Allen Iverson stood there without moving.
He did not pull a towel over his head as he had before, nor did he collapse onto the floor.
He simply stood there with his hands on his hips, his chest still heaving violently. Sweat had soaked through his No. 3 jersey, clinging tightly to his body and outlining muscles that were not particularly bulky, yet brimming with explosive power.
He lifted his head and met Li Fei's gaze.
Separated by nearly the entire length of the court, their eyes met in midair.
No words were exchanged, yet it said more than a thousand words ever could.
It was the purest salute between warriors, the mutual appreciation of heroes.
The corner of Iverson's mouth suddenly tugged upward into a proud, unruly smile.
He slowly nodded at Li Fei, then held his head high and became the first to walk back into the players' tunnel.
There was not the slightest trace of desolation or defeat in his retreating figure. Instead, he looked like a victorious general returning from battle, the pride carved into his bones untouched by even the most brutal loss.
Li Fei withdrew his gaze and smiled as well.
He liked opponents like this.
In the broadcast booth, the three commentators fell silent for a full five seconds after the final buzzer before finding their voices again.
"A game... a game beyond words."
Kevin Harlan's voice was hoarse, as though it had been scraped by sandpaper. "We witnessed history. We witnessed two superstars take individual heroism to its absolute limit. Allen Iverson's performance tonight was enough to earn everyone's respect."
Bill Walton let out a long breath. He adjusted his tie and spoke in a tone that was almost lyrical. "In the myths of ancient Greece, mortals who challenged the gods often