Flights from New York to Boston take just over an hour.
When the morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the TD Garden the next morning, Lin Qi was already sitting behind his large desk, a cup of black coffee in hand.
He picked up his phone and sent Rasheed Wallace a short text message: "Nine o'clock in the morning, in my office. Just you alone."
At 8:55, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door.
"Knock knock knock."
"Enter."
The door was pushed open. Rasheed Wallace walked in alone. He was wearing a loose tracksuit and his ever-present Air Force 1 high-tops.
"Lin, you wanted to see me?" Rasheed strode over to the sofa and sat down. "If it's about what happened during yesterday's training, when I threw the towel, let me make it clear first, I was angry with myself..."
"Huh? When did this happen? Never mind, it's not important..." Lin Qi put down his coffee cup. " Rasheed, you've taken 38 technical fouls this season."
Rasheed's face froze instantly. As if a sore spot had been touched, he shifted his body uneasily, rubbing his knees vigorously with both hands.
"I know, Lin," Rasheed said in a muffled voice, his tone a mixture of frustration and self-blame. "The media keeps saying I'm a madman who could explode at any moment, that I'm dragging the team down... I swear I'll control my temper in the playoffs, even if that whistleblower is blind, I'll try my best to sew my mouth shut, I..."
"You don't need to apologize," Lin Qi said calmly, without any inflection. "Because it wasn't entirely your fault."
There was a moment of silence in the office.
Rasheed froze, then abruptly looked up, his Anthony Davis furrowed tightly together. "... What do you mean?"
Lin Qi placed his hands on the table, his gaze sharp as a knife. "Literal meaning. Rasheed, a large portion of your 38 technical fouls were intentionally targeted and provoked on the court by someone trying to eject you."
"Buzz..."
Rasheed felt as if his head had been struck hard by a sledgehammer.
He suddenly jumped up from the sofa.
"Who?!" Rasheed's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, and the veins in his neck throbbed. "I fucking know! That bastard Donaghy in the previous match, he did it on purpose, didn't he?!"
Lin Qi nodded.
" Tim Donaghy. He was involved in match-fixing, and you were targeted by him and other referees."
"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!"
The self-doubt throughout the season, the guilt of dragging the team down, the frustration of being wronged by the entire league, the anger at being called for technical fouls when they were standing still... all of these transformed into a furious rage that wanted to tear everything apart.
"I fucking said those calls were wrong!" Rasheed paced back and forth in his office like a caged beast, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. "In Game 2 of the first round, I didn't even open my mouth, and he called a technical foul on me! And in the regular season against the Lakers, O'Neal elbowed me, and I only glanced at the referee, just one glance! And he gave me a technical foul!"
Rasheed whirled around, staring intently at Lin Qi, his chest heaving violently.
"Where is he? Where is that bastard Donaghy now? I'm going to find him!"
Wizards spoke coldly after the other person's heavy breathing had subsided somewhat.
"Have you made enough of a scene?"
Rasheed stopped in his tracks, his eyes still bloodshot.
"If you've had enough, sit down." Lin Qi's tone carried an undeniable air of authority. "The matter is resolved."
Rasheed paused for a moment, then obediently sat back down on the sofa. "... What's resolved?"
Lin Qi stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of Rasheed.
"Yesterday, I flew to New York with evidence of the referees' involvement in match-fixing and their conspiracy against you, and spoke with David Stern about it," Lin Qi said casually. "I gave him two choices: either I hand the evidence over to the FBI and the New York Times, or he immediately takes action against Donaghy and guarantees that no referee will ever dare to target you or Boston again."
Rasheed sat there, stunned, staring at Lin Qi in disbelief.
" Stern... agreed?" Rasheed's voice trembled slightly.
"Agreed." Lin Qi nodded. "The FBI has already secretly intervened. Donaghy will be in federal prison for a long time, and the other referees involved will also be secretly removed. Nothing will be made public, and you can't talk about it publicly, or we'll be in big trouble."
"Why..." Rasheed's voice became aggrieved, "Why won't you make it public? Why won't you let the whole world know how that bastard did this to me?"
Lin Qi walked up to Rasheed and patted him heavily on the broad shoulder.
" Rasheed, you're a fighter. I know you argued with the referee on the court, and it wasn't just for yourself. When Pierce was fouled maliciously and the referee turned a blind eye, you were the one who rushed in to stand up for him. When Garnett was pushed down, you were the first to step in and protect him. Your teammates know that, and I know that too. We see your contributions to the team."
Rasheed's eyes instantly reddened.
The person in front of him not only understood his grievances, but also single-handedly stormed the Alliance headquarters in New York to seek justice for him.
"Lin..." Rasheed's massive body trembled slightly, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted from his spine in an instant. "I thought it was really because I had a bad temper, I thought I was hurting this team... I've been blaming myself for the entire season..."
"The only thing you've done to hurt the team," Lin Qi smirked, "Is that you're still standing here with that long face."
Rasheed paused for a moment, then burst out laughing, though tears welled in his eyes.
He wiped his face hard, nodded vigorously, and revealed his signature arrogant yet relieved smile.
"Lin," Rasheed looked at Lin Qi, his eyes more serious than ever before, "After playing in this league for so many years, no one... no one has ever protected me like you have."
Lin Qi smiled and leaned back in his chair.
"Alright, enough with the act, get back to training."
Rasheed took a deep breath, nodded vigorously, pushed open the door, and strode out.
A few minutes later.
The moment Rasheed pushed open the training hall door, his aura underwent a dramatic transformation.
Inside the training hall, the teammates are warming up.
Garnett saw him and gave him a big high five as he passed by.
"Smack!"
The sound was extremely clear and loud.
Garnett keenly sensed something was wrong. He noticed Rasheed's eyes...
The anxiety, unease, and potentially uncontrollable aggression that had lingered in Rasheed's eyes throughout the entire season had completely vanished.
Pierce walked over to Garnett and whispered, "What's wrong with Rasheed today? He seems like a completely different person..."
Garnett patted the basketball in his hand, watching Rasheed's hard-working figure as he trained.
"He just went to Lin's office; I wonder what they talked about."
Noon.
After training, Rasheed sat alone in front of his locker in the locker room. He took out his phone and sent a text message to Lin Qi.
"Lin, I want to help Boston win the championship."
A few seconds later, the phone vibrated. Lin Qi's reply was only a few extremely brief words.
One is not enough.
Rasheed looked at the text message, gripped his phone tightly, and a smile crept onto his lips.
Instead of showering and changing, he got up and walked back to the empty training hall.
His teammates had all left, but Rasheed brought in the basketball shooting machine.
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
Under the lights of the training hall, Rasheed Wallace jumped, flicked his wrist, and landed again and again.
Sweat quickly soaked through his green training uniform.
But he didn't stop.
This season, he's going to crush anyone who dares to stand in his way.
Not for any other reason than for the person who shielded him from all the storms of life.