Familiar Posture

Even though he didn't get a single minute of playing time the entire game, Link was incredibly hyped all night long.

After all, this was the Toyota Center. This was the NBA. This was a place he'd only ever been able to see through a television screen.

Beside him sat Chase Budinger, and further down the bench were "Mighty Mouse" Kyle Lowry, Jordan Hill, Courtney Lee—all Rockets stars he'd once known only by name.

And behind him were nearly twenty thousand fervent fans. In the G League, a crowd of around two thousand had already felt mind-blowing to Link. But here at the Toyota Center, the number of spectators was ten times that! And the roar of the crowd was ten times louder than any G League game.

On top of that, the fierce collisions on the court, the sharp blasts of the referees' whistles, and the shouting from players and head coach all sent Link's adrenaline skyrocketing from his seat on the bench.

A spot on the bench like this was something money couldn't even buy. As a fan, how could Link not get swept up in this atmosphere?

So even when the game entered garbage time, Link was still watching with great interest. The Argentine, Scola, had played flawlessly today, dominating the paint in Yao Ming's absence.

Watching Scola sweat it out on the court and secure the victory, Link desperately wanted to experience that feeling too—to contribute to his team's win.

But obviously, that wasn't realistic. He'd spent the entire previous day doing commercial appearances, and today he'd trained separately from the team. Under those circumstances, the head coach definitely wouldn't put him in.

Still, Link wasn't discouraged. He still had two more games to make an impression. If he could put up a strong performance in just one of them, maybe he could earn a second ten-day contract?

Just as Link was lost in thought, the Pistons called a timeout. There was 1:48 left on the clock, but Detroit was trailing by nearly twenty points.

Given how the Pistons had played up to that point, a comeback was highly unlikely. So the purpose of this timeout was probably to pull the starters and officially declare the game garbage time.

Link stood up to high-five the players coming off the court. Even though he wasn't close with any of the Rockets yet, basic courtesy was a must.

After the high-fives, Link sat back down at the end of the bench. He noticed several cameras aimed at him. As a player with yellow skin, he'd never be short of camera time. Unfortunately, today he couldn't put on a show for the Chinese fans who loved him.

"Link! Get over here!"

In the noisy arena, Link heard a loud shout.

His heart suddenly raced, and he turned his head toward Adelman. At first, Link thought he'd misheard. Today, he'd imagined Adelman calling his name more than once, only to realize it was just his own wishful thinking.

But when Link saw Adelman actually waving at him, he couldn't stop his whole body from trembling.

This time, he was really calling him!

The Rockets players all looked at Link in surprise, watching this new teammate who'd never practiced with them. Link froze for a second too, but quickly tore off his disposable warm-up shirt and ran over to Adelman.

He came to the NBA to play games, didn't he!?

"Link has taken off his warm-up shirt! Coach Adelman is planning to put him in for the final two minutes. Let's see what kind of show Link can bring us!"

At the same time, the CCTV commentator was shouting with excitement. This was the second time a Chinese player had taken the court for the Rockets since Yao Ming went down.

Even if it was just garbage time, even if it was only the last two minutes, right now, every Chinese fan who had time to watch the game had their eyes locked on Link.

The massive Chinese market had been fully activated by the Rockets in that moment.

Adelman looked at Link but didn't give him any specific instructions. He only said one sentence, but that sentence filled Link with fighting spirit.

"Remember, don't lose that fire."

Adelman finished speaking and, before Link could react, pushed him onto the court.

At that moment, the Toyota Center erupted with thunderous cheers. Countless Chinese fans rose from their seats, filled with immense pride.

"Who's this guy? I don't remember the Rockets having this player in their last game," said Chris Webber from the commentary desk, far less enthusiastic than the Chinese fans or the CCTV announcer.

"Tom Lin, goes by Link. Two days ago, he was playing for the Oklahoma City Blue. Day before yesterday, he just signed a ten-day contract with the Rockets. His last two games in the G League were decent—he got a triple-double against Luke Ba Weiyuan and a double-double against Stephenson. Those two games got the NBA's attention."

Beside Webber, Kevin Harlan read off his notes. He didn't have high expectations for Link. Any fool could see why the Rockets had signed him.

In the Rockets' current slump, a Chinese-American player could draw eyeballs like no one else could.

As for the Chinese-American's performance? Who cared?

Link stepped onto the court under Webber and Harlan's dismissive gazes. He saw the giant "R" logo at center court and couldn't stop his heart from pounding.

The Toyota Center was incredibly special to every Chinese fan, and now he was standing on the very floor of the Toyota Center from nine years ago.

Both teams had put in their full bench units. For the Rockets, it was Jermaine Taylor, Courtney Lee, Link, Patrick Patterson, and Jordan Hill—a true garbage-time lineup.

For the Pistons, they had Will Bynum, Ben Gordon, Austin Daye, and Monroe on the floor. Notably, the Pistons had kept McGrady in the game, since Detroit was plagued with injuries, and Hamilton and Prince were too old to play heavy minutes. So McGrady, coming off the bench, had to finish out the garbage time.

Suddenly, garbage time became interesting. Because everyone realized Link would be matched up against McGrady!

When the game resumed, the Rockets had the first possession. Link actually wished he could play alongside Lowry, but Lowry was now the Rockets' starting point guard, so he had to put up with Jermaine Taylor's sluggish pace.

Link didn't know any of the Rockets' plays, so he had to rely on his instincts to read the game and move. He drifted to the right corner, clearing as much space as possible for his teammates.

Taylor didn't hesitate. Seeing his teammates spread the floor, he raised a hand and called for a screen from Jordan Hill. As a fringe player who could be cut at any moment, Taylor naturally wanted to leave a lasting impression on Adelman with a highlight or two.

So, once Hill's screen was set, Taylor drove to the basket.

Don't think that just because it was garbage time, no one was trying. The game was already decided, but these were all bench players fighting for playing time. Everyone wanted to show their best.

So Will Bynum, the Pistons' backup point guard, played tight defense.

Will Bynum was only 1.83 meters tall. Surviving in the NBA at that height was no easy feat. After all, the world didn't have many geniuses like Chris Paul.

If you lack height, make up for it with grit. Bynum defended aggressively, seriously slowing down Taylor's drive.

So when Taylor finally got into the paint and tried to use his height advantage for a layup, the Pistons' backup center, Daye, had already rotated over.

Daye wasn't some superstar. The peak of his career was winning a championship with the Spurs in the 2013-14 season.

The guy was average in skill, but he played hard on defense, especially with an unusual obsession for steals and blocks.

So the California big man came charging in from the side just as Taylor leaped, rose high into the air, and swatted Jermaine Taylor's raised basketball away like a volleyball!

"Oh! That's brutal. Who does Jermaine Taylor think he is? Russell Westbrook? Hahahahaha."

Seeing Taylor humiliate himself by overreaching, the commentators Webber and Harlan burst into laughter on the broadcast desk.

The basketball was swatted away, flying straight toward the right corner baseline. Just as it seemed destined to go out of bounds, a pair of large hands caught it.

It was Link, the Houston No. 5 making his first appearance, who had grabbed the ball!

"Link snags the rebound—his first valid stat in the NBA. But I believe Tracy won't let him score easily."

No sooner had Webber finished speaking than Link, without even jumping, casually tossed the ball toward the basket as if taking a leisurely stroll.

Everyone, including Adelman, was stunned! What was this guy doing? Even in garbage time, you can't just take a shot that casually! Not only was he shooting over a defender, but he didn't even jump!

Just as everyone was about to burst out laughing or start cursing, a dark figure suddenly shot out and caught the ball midair.

Then the "dark figure" tensed every muscle, gathered strength, and slammed the ball viciously through the hoop!

"BANG!"

The rim bent downward under the immense force. Everyone stared—Jordan Hill was hanging from the rim. After landing, he roared to the sky; nothing excited Hill more than an alley-oop dunk.

"Alley-oop, that was an alley-oop! How did he see Hill? As far as I know, this guy hasn't even practiced with the Rockets yet. But... no, that's impossible!"

Webber clutched his head. Such a covert alley-oop connection should, in theory, only appear between two players with great chemistry. Yet the fact was, this was Link and Hill's first time playing together!

There were only two explanations for that play: either Link and Hill got lucky by blind chance, or that No. 5's ability to read the game rivaled that of a point guard!

Adelman smiled—he liked players who used their brains. Meanwhile, McGrady stared at Link in shock. That unhurried, effortless demeanor of his—why did it feel so familiar?

As for Link, what he was thinking right now was that he'd definitely make the Top 5 plays of the night.