On that early December night, the FleetCenter was packed.
Boston's fans had come to see a special game.
The Philadelphia 76ers were visiting Boston.
And Philadelphia's star was the local kid they had once known so well, the one Lin Qi had personally sent away-Dana Barros.
The atmosphere before the game was a little complicated.
When Barros entered through the visitors' tunnel with his team, applause rose from the stands, mixed with a few conflicted boos.
Boston remembered him. They remembered his barrage of threes off the bench last season, his breakout performance against the Knicks in the playoffs, averaging 20.1 points over seven games.
They also remembered that Lin Qi had used this hometown favorite as a bargaining chip and sent him away.
Barros did not look toward those stands.
He kept his head down and warmed up.
But anyone who knew him could see that his usually gentle face was drawn tight tonight.
Lin Qi stood at the entrance to the players' tunnel, watching his former player from afar.
An entire arena separated them.
And so did those harsh words flung at the doorway of that little room a year ago.
"Next season, when we meet again... I'll destroy your team on your home court, in front of all of Boston."
Lin Qi knew Barros had brought those words back with him tonight.
As soon as the game began, Barros showed everyone what he had experienced during his year in Philadelphia.
The "little cannon" who could only fire away in limited minutes off Boston's bench was gone.
In his place was a true lead guard, with the ball in his hands.
In the first quarter alone, a string of fluid offensive plays caught the Celtics' young backcourt off guard.
A pull-up three off a pick-and-roll... swish.
A beautiful pass after drawing a double-team on a drive... an assist.
Slipping free off another screen... another three.
He was playing with such ease.
In Philadelphia, he had thirty-six minutes a game, an undisputed role as the centerpiece, and plays designed specifically for him.
Everything Boston had held back in him had been set free here.
Sam Cassell guarded him, only to be shaken off by a step-back as Barros knocked down a three.
Young Wesley tried guarding him, but the vast gap in experience left him dancing in the palm of Barros's hand.
By the end of the first quarter, Barros alone had already scored in the teens.
Lin Qi sat on the sideline, watching his former player flourish on his home court, his feelings too complicated to describe.
He knew better than anyone why Barros was so terrifying tonight.
Because what he had said was true... this was who the local kid should have been all along.
It was Lin Qi who, with his memories as a transmigrator, had known Barros would break out in Philadelphia.
So he had forcibly held back Barros's breakout in Boston for a year, then sent him back as his most valuable bargaining chip in exchange for the future.
Now, on the night Barros returned to Boston, the volcano that had been suppressed for a year erupted completely.
It was not as though the Celtics did not fight back.
Garnett scored repeatedly inside, Sam Cassell orchestrated several counterattacks, and Murray and Person hit threes to keep chasing.
This young team showed plenty of resilience, keeping the deficit close several times.
But every time the Celtics looked ready to catch up, Barros stepped forward.
A three, a drawn foul, or a crucial midrange jumper.
Like a true assassin, he delivered cold-blooded offense at every critical juncture, extinguishing the Celtics' newly kindled hopes again and again.
This was experience.
This was a star who had played for several years and now held an undisputed role as his team's centerpiece, thoroughly outclassing a group of still-green youngsters.
By the third quarter, Barros's scoring total had climbed into the thirties.
Philadelphia's bench erupted.
And every time Barros made a shot, he would instinctively glance at Lin Qi on the sideline.
There was no smugness in that look, no provocation.
Only a stubborn determination, pent up for a year, to finally prove himself to that man.
Lin Qi understood that look.
It said, Look, Lin Qi. You were right.
In Philadelphia, I'm an All-Star averaging over twenty points a game.
But why didn't you give me that chance back then?
Why did you have to send me away?
Lin Qi did not avoid his gaze.
He simply sat quietly, watching the local kid he had personally sent away now personally "destroy" his team.
By the final quarter, there was little suspense left.
Barros was scorching hot.
Against him and the system Philadelphia had built around him, these young Celtics looked inexperienced and overmatched.
Sam Cassell gave everything he had, and Garnett gritted his teeth and battled inside.
But sheer fighting spirit could not bridge the gap in experience and chemistry.
The final buzzer sounded.
The Philadelphia 76ers had won on the road.
And Dana Barros had finished with a frighteningly high point total.
An explosive stat line worthy of a place in his career memories.
He had made good on his bold words.
On Boston's home court, in front of all of Boston, he had personally destroyed Lin Qi's team.
In the locker room, the young Celtics tasted this feeling for the first time.
They had not been crushed by a stronger team.
Instead, one of their "own"... a former teammate, had taught them a harsh lesson in a way that said, "I should have belonged with you."
Garnett sat sullenly, his usually talkative mouth offering not a single wisecrack tonight.
Sam Cassell wiped away his sweat and stared at the floor, the competitive veteran unable to accept the loss.
Lin Qi entered the locker room without blaming anyone.
"Chins up," he said. "Tonight, we didn't lose to Philadelphia."
"We lost to someone who wanted this win more than we did, and deserved to win this game more than we did."
Lin Qi paused and looked around the room.
"Dana Barros used to be one of us. The way he played tonight is no disgrace to us."
"Remember how tonight felt... remember what it feels like to get destroyed."
"Then turn it into fuel to make yourselves stronger."
The youngsters nodded, only half understanding.
Lin Qi said nothing more.
He knew this lesson was good for these young players. Too many wins could go to their heads.
One loss like this could help them see where they stood more clearly than ten victories.
But only Lin Qi knew that what he felt tonight was different from what the young players felt.
After the game, in the players' tunnel.
Lin Qi waited there quietly.
Barros came out, his face as gentle as ever.
But the intensity he had held inside for a year had yet to fade from his eyes.
The two met in the tunnel.
Silence hung in the air for several seconds.
"Great game, Dana," Lin Qi spoke first. "Best player on the floor."
Barros stopped and looked at him.
At last, he asked the question he had held back for a year.
"Lin Qi, I just want to know one thing."
His voice was calm, but carried an almost imperceptible tremor.
"Last season, you knew all along, didn't you?"
"You knew I could play like this. But you sent me away anyway."
"Why?"
Lin Qi looked at him without avoiding his eyes.
He could not tell Barros the truth.
He could not say, Because I came from the future. I knew you were supposed to break out in Philadelphia. I knew you were worth that price.
That was why I dared to trade you for that high school kid who could change the team's fate.
He could not voice the cruelty of that "I know you better than you know yourself."
"Because I believed that on a team that truly belonged to you, you could become the player you deserved to be."
It was the only answer Lin Qi could give, half truth and half guilt he could not put into words.
"In Boston, you had Sam Cassell and Dominique Wilkins ahead of you. You could only ever be the sixth man."
"But I knew you should be more than a sixth man."
"So you sent me away for my own good?"
Barros laughed.
There was hurt in that laugh, and acceptance, and a trace of lingering resentment.
"Lin Qi, that spiel of yours sounds fucking beautiful."
"I don't expect you to believe it," Lin Qi said. "I just want to say one thing... Dana, nobody is happier than I am to see you play the way you did tonight."
"You proved yourself. You deserved this."
Barros stared at Lin Qi for a long time.
Faced with those words, some of the stubbornness he had held inside for a year slowly began to dissolve.
At heart, he was a gentle person, after all.
"...Next time," Barros finally turned his head away and muttered, "I'll destroy your team again."
With that, he picked up his bag and left without looking back.
Lin Qi stood where he was, watching him go, and let out a soft breath.
He had won.
On the grand chessboard called "team building," he had traded Barros for the future. He was unquestionably the winner.
But tonight, he had lost.
He had lost a game, and he had also lost that tangled, indescribable reckoning between himself and this local kid.
With a transmigrator's "omniscience," he had decided another person's fate.
Even if that decision had ultimately sent Barros somewhere better and allowed him to become a better version of himself.
To the person whose fate had been decided, it was still a betrayal.
He had rewritten history.
He had forcibly held back the breakout Barros should have had a year earlier, then personally restored it in another form.
After a long detour, the breakout that belonged to Barros had finally returned to where it should have happened-Philadelphia.
It had merely arrived a year late.
And merely taken a form that left Lin Qi with even more conflicting feelings.
Will history really let you mold it however you please?
Tonight, Lin Qi had found part of the answer to that question.
He could reshape the board and manipulate the rules. He could decide which team someone joined, at what age they broke out, and whose bargaining chip they became.
But he could not change the talent in a person's bones.
He could not change the destiny that would ultimately bring that talent into bloom.
Still less could he change... the crease in the heart of someone he had molded this way, one that could never be smoothed away.
He was the mastermind with a god's-eye view.
But he was not God.
Lin Qi took one last look at the empty tunnel, turned, and walked into Boston's early winter night.
Behind him was a young team that had lost a game, but was growing.
Ahead lay a brand-new road, its script torn to pieces by his own hands, its destination now unknown.