David Falk hurried over to Li Fei with a freshly compiled interview bulletin in hand.
"Fei, Allen just made a statement outside. He said he's the best player on this planet, and that he came to New York to take your head."
There was a hint of teasing in Falk's voice. He knew Li Fei far too well.
Li Fei took the bulletin and gave it a glance. There was no anger on his face; instead, a faint smile appeared.
"The best player?"
Li Fei rose to his feet and stretched his terrifying 2.45-meter wingspan. His bones and joints crackled like beans popping in a pan.
"I like his confidence. If he didn't have that 'I'm the best in the world' attitude, I wouldn't have signed him."
He pulled on the Knicks jersey embroidered with a gold-trimmed number 1, and his gaze instantly turned deep and cold.
"But Allen seems to have forgotten something. You don't sit on this league's throne just by shouting slogans."
"If he thinks he's the best, then come beat me."
"At Madison Square Garden, I'll make him understand that between 'best' and 'great,' there is a chasm he may never cross in his lifetime."
Li Fei walked out of the locker room. The security personnel lining the tunnel all lowered their heads in greeting, as though welcoming an emperor inspecting his domain.
The instant both teams stepped onto the court, the roof of Madison Square Garden nearly blew off from the roar of the crowd.
Monica Bellucci, seated courtside in a black plunging gown, applauded Li Fei elegantly. Her appearance caused another stir among the courtside camera crews.
On the other side, Spike Lee was decked out head to toe in Knicks gear, wildly hurling trash talk at Iverson in the distance.
The starting lineups