"Damn, did Kobe take something today? How's he this accurate?" a fat man in a Knicks No. 1 jersey said nervously.
"Fuck, that damn fat O'Neal is way too fierce. Even Sabonis can't hold him off."
"What are you panicking for?" The most composed-looking guy in the dorm, wearing glasses, pushed them up and said with certainty, "Didn't you see Brother Fei's stats? 11+4+4, and that was only the first quarter! Brother Fei hasn't really started yet! He's observing, probing. Once he figures out the Lakers' weaknesses, the second quarter is when we close this game out!"
His words immediately won everyone's agreement.
"That's right! Brother Fei is unbeatable!"
"Let the OK Duo see what a real king looks like!"
At a securities exchange in Beijing, quite a few traders who should have been tensely watching the market had secretly opened video-streaming plug-ins on their computers, following the game out of the corners of their eyes.
When they saw Li Fei drill a step-back three right in Kobe's face, several of them couldn't help clenching their fists in silent celebration.
But whenever O'Neal ravaged the paint, their brows would knot tightly together again.
To them, Li Fei had long since become more than just a basketball player.
He was a national hero bringing glory to his country on the world's greatest stage, and the Li Fei Sports Brand he had founded was the shining pride of domestic products, the only Chinese brand capable of standing toe-to-toe with Nike and Adidas.
Every victory by Li Fei was like a shot of adrenaline for a nation developing at breakneck speed and yearning to prove itself on the world stage.
In Guangzhou, an old-fashioned television mounted on the wall of a morning tea restaurant was broadcasting the game. Several middle-aged men sipping tea