Chapter Sixteen, Part One Now, standing upon the stage, who can see the glimmer of tears in my eyes?

Have you ever imagined that after years and years of hard work, you finally succeed? That you stand on the stage, tears shining on your face, proclaiming to the world that you have made it? How many people would be moved by such a scene? Perhaps this is the moment Lin Fei had to learn to face after making his mark in the NBA.

Lin Fei’s longing for home was always so deep. Back in middle school, his village felt so familiar and dear. When he went to high school in the city, he realized how warm it was to return to his small hometown. In university, studying in another province, he found everything from his home province so comforting. Now, living in America, how could he suppress his homesickness? And so, he decided to return home.

Such big news could never escape the eyes of those frenzied reporters. Usually, if a celebrity so much as sneezes, the journalists would trumpet it to the skies—let alone Lin Fei wanting to go home! The reporters had only a few tricks: constantly pestering the star’s agent, friends, or close buddies for information; staking out the training grounds to see if the player skipped practice, which would surely mean something was up; and then there were the paparazzi, especially formidable, infiltrating every corner of the city—no one could escape their gaze, least of all someone who shined as brightly as Lin Fei.

As soon as he stepped out of the airport, the scene before him nearly startled him—a sea of enormous signs reading, “Lin Fei, we love you!” “The Man Who Made God Cry!” and so on. Overwhelmed with emotion, Lin Fei had never imagined he would see this day. Truly, from having nothing, to earning a bit of fame, and now such a grand reception—it all felt like a dream. The past seemed as if it had happened only yesterday. He still remembered the moment he boarded the plane to America, still remembered the loved ones and friends who had come to see him off.

Lin Fei waved symbolically, and the fans screamed madly. No one could say exactly why the fervor was so intense. Among the fans were both the young and the old; it was clear Lin Fei’s popularity had started to seep into every corner of the fanbase.

He went straight home. Everything was so familiar, so beautiful.

He had barely settled in when the phone rang—it was Fatty, the leader of his university dorm, calling. “You’re back and you didn’t let us know? Didn’t even give us a heads up or let us come pick you up? Even though we’re all busy after graduation, you know we’d have run to see you. We’ve never really seen a superstar in the flesh, and now, one of our brothers is a mega star. Ha ha!”

“Hey! There were so many people at the airport, they nearly burst the place. You can’t imagine it—worse than the cafeteria at school during mealtime. You should’ve seen it. How’s everyone at the dorm?” Lin Fei replied.

“Come on, you still remember to ask? Back at school, we’d skip classes and meals just to watch you play, all your die-hard fans. It wasn’t easy for us, you know? But you, you barely called us. On campus, you were more famous than Kobe, more legendary than LeBron! Ever thought about coming back to school? If you did, the stadium would overflow! You know how our classmates brag about you outside? At graduation, when we got drunk, we’d shout in the streets, ‘Lin Fei’s my buddy!’ Even when looking for jobs, people ask, ‘Were you in Lin Fei’s class?’ I swear, you’ve made us all proud.”

“Alright, how about you help get in touch with everyone? I’ll treat everyone to dinner.”

“Really? You’ve struck it rich, so where will it be? Let us pick the place—it can’t be too shabby for a superstar.”

“Sure, anywhere in Jinan, you choose.”

“Deal! To be honest, we always said we’d extort a bit from you when you came back, but now we all feel a little embarrassed! Ha ha.”

“It’s settled then. Contact everyone you can—I owe you all plenty of dinners.”

Lin Fei was always popular. He was generous by nature, and though he’d been so focused on basketball at school that he didn’t have many best friends, he was always sincere with those he did have.

He then called his closest friend. “Hey, Big Fool, how have you been lately?”

“You? You actually remember us? Damn, I’ve missed you so much I could cry!”

“Cut the crap! Ha, what’ve you been busy with?”

“Same as always—work! Not going so well, actually thinking of trying something else.”

“I feel like all jobs are much the same. Our major didn’t really prepare us for anything. Ha, but hey, I still haven’t graduated.”

“Damn, easy for you to say. You make money easily, we’re still running around out here. The job hunt is so depressing, always feeling inferior in front of interviewers.”

“I wouldn’t know. By the way, are you free? I want to organize a dinner for all our classmates.”

“Dinner? After graduation, everyone’s scattered—some in Hainan, some back home. Not many of us are left nearby. But if you’re going to pay for everyone to fly in, it might just work. How about it?”

“No problem, just contact whoever you can. Fatty just called—I told him too. By the way, how are you and your wife, Mei? When’s the wedding?”

“Sigh, can’t afford a house. She doesn’t mind, but I still feel a huge sense of responsibility.”

“Ha, not many in our class are single now, right?”

“I haven’t done a survey. Ha, are you still thinking about her?”

“Heh.”

“How long has it been since you two spoke?”

“Not since graduation.”

“Well, the guys checked for you—she’s still single. You’re just dragging your feet.”

Lin Fei smiled bitterly. “Alright, tell everyone to bring their spouses and partners.”

He was filled with anticipation. In those hardest times, those who had supported him were now gone from his side as he stood on the brilliant stage. Suddenly, Lin Fei felt like singing karaoke, especially those songs—“I Finally Lost You” and “My Good Brother”—that had accompanied him from a boy on the court, to the field, to glory. He often hummed them, no matter how many people joked that while singers made money, his singing could kill. But regardless of joy or sorrow, he always turned to music.

After chatting with his family for a while, another call came—a clear, crisp voice: “Hello, is this Senior Lin Fei?” The voice was so delicate it seemed it might shatter with a breath of wind.

“Yes, that’s me. And you are…?”

“I’m your junior, Shan Shan, from university. I wanted to ask when you’d be free now that you’re back.”

Lin Fei was back mainly to rest, but even rest was tightly scheduled. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is there something you need?”

“I’m the president of the Success Society at school. Many students admire your drive and would love to invite you back to your alma mater to share your experiences—your perseverance means a lot to us juniors…”

Lin Fei laughed, a little embarrassed at the exaggeration. “I do have some free time, but aren’t you all busy with exams? Won’t the holiday start soon?”

She giggled, “When you were at school, didn’t you always skip class to play basketball?”

“Oh? Who said that?”

“That’s what everyone says! They say you were the madman of the court, always skipping class. That you’d rather play in the rain than sit in a lecture.”

Lin Fei laughed. The voice on the phone was so endearing. “Well, that’s why I still haven’t graduated—I need to go back next year to finish my credits and get my diploma.”

“Senior, don’t worry about being good or bad, just share your experience with us. If we learn well, that’s fate; if not, there’s no harm in what you have to teach.”

“Alright. Can I contact you when I’ve got time? Is this the right number? I just got back and haven’t arranged everything yet.”

For some reason, Lin Fei found the voice so moving. He didn’t even know her full name, just that she called herself Shan Shan—what a lovely name, he thought.

After a night’s rest, though jet lag meant he’d already had enough sleep, Lin Fei woke early the next morning. Without disturbing anyone, he grabbed his old basketball and went to a nearby court to practice. He wore his favorite Lakers jersey, number 24—he always thought that one looked best.

He got there so early that the court was empty.

Shooting alone, Lin Fei still felt a little out of place, even though it was so familiar—so many mornings over the past years had been just like this. He practiced three-pointers, collecting his own rebounds, shooting from each of the five NBA All-Star three-point contest spots, going back and forth. Since the Chinese three-point line is a bit closer than the NBA’s, he shot from farther back, and, to his satisfaction, the shots kept going in. “If only I could shoot this accurately in the NBA when no one’s guarding me!” he thought.

After a while, he decided to try dunking. After nearly a year in the NBA and so many points, he’d never actually dunked. The rim on this court seemed a bit low—not quite regulation. He stretched his legs, dribbled, and took three steps for a one-handed dunk—barely making it. It wasn’t exactly impressive, given his height and leaping ability. Unsatisfied, he started from half-court, accelerating, sprinting into the paint, and leapt high for a one-handed rim-grabber—this one had some flair and showed he could really jump. He tried a two-handed slam next—exhilarating! He had never felt the need to dunk in the NBA, where everyone was a dunker, but here, on the court of his childhood, it felt different.

He remembered how, as a child, he longed to grow tall enough to dunk, dreaming of being as tall as Yao Ming. But as he grew closer to the rim, the urge to attack it faded—he cared more about scoring efficiently than showy dunks.

More than a practice, it was Lin Fei reliving his past, savoring the sweetness of those years.

Finished with his “training,” the morning sun broke through. Lin Fei grabbed his ball and headed for breakfast—his favorites, egg-stuffed pancakes and meat buns. He remembered being too lazy to get up, rushing off-campus for breakfast, buying food for his dormmates.

“Lin Fei?” a petite girl on the other side of the food stall asked, seemingly familiar.

Munching on his bun, Lin Fei looked up, eyes widening. “Yu Ting?”

“You still remember me?”

“Of course—how could I forget a beauty?”

“You’re here for breakfast too? What are you up to these days?”

Lin Fei was confused. He’d assumed everyone who remembered him would know what he was doing now. He didn’t think he was world-shaking, but surely his old classmates should know, given his fame. He stammered and grinned foolishly, “Just messing around, not doing anything serious, wandering about!”

“Really? That can’t be—you were such a good student!”

Now Lin Fei didn’t know how to continue. “Heh, I still haven’t graduated.”

Yu Ting’s eyes widened. “Really? Are you in grad school?”

Since she had no idea what he was up to, he saw no need to explain—she’d find out eventually. “Yeah, graduate school.” He found himself amusing; from anyone else, it might sound evasive, but with Lin Fei, his tone was so sincere you’d believe him, even if it was a lie.

“Oh! I have to get to work. Let’s chat again sometime!”

Talking with Yu Ting, a classmate from first year of high school, Lin Fei felt deeply moved—some people, once you pass them by, you never think of them again.

He hurried home to check with Fatty and Big Fool about the dinner plans and sent group texts to see who could come. Then he hopped on QQ to shout out in the group chat: “Hey, pretty boys and girls—who’s free? Let’s pick a time for a meal!” Soon the group exploded. They finally settled on the night after next—out of a class of forty-five, only fifteen could make it. After graduation, even that was a feat.

He thought of Shan Shan again—what an interesting girl, not even revealing her surname!

He dialed her number. The same clear voice answered, soft but excited, as if trying to suppress her delight. “Senior?”

“Yes, I wanted to tell you—I can come to school the day after tomorrow. Is that okay?”

Her voice dropped even lower. “Senior, I’m in class. Can you text me?”

He remembered how he used to answer calls during class, too, and smiled. “Alright, I’ll text. Pay attention in class!”

Hearing her say that made him inexplicably happy.

He sent her a few casual messages, and suddenly really wanted to know what the girl on the other end looked like. She wouldn’t tell him, only saying, “Just call me Shan Shan.” He guessed she must be cute, judging by her voice.

He wondered how he’d share his experiences—he’d imagined this scene a thousand times, but now, faced with it, he felt he had nothing to say. It was like love—when you don’t have it, you imagine it’s beautiful, but once you have, you realize it’s nothing much. Like cramming for final exams—so exhausting at the time, but looking back, not so bad.

Though he’d long gotten used to facing reporters and countless fans, the thought of speaking before his classmates, before his juniors, made him a little excited, even nervous.

He went to the Quancheng Road pedestrian street to pick out some clothes. With his fame, you’d think people would recognize him, but only occasionally did someone stare. No crowds of fans followed him, and he preferred it this way. On the court, he often felt the weight of millions on his shoulders, but here, surrounded by the bustle of people and traffic, there was a certain charm.

After wandering for ages, he got tired—as one does when shopping alone. He chuckled to himself. He didn’t care much about clothes—he used to prefer loose, comfortable, and cheap outfits, especially jerseys. Since becoming famous, people told him to dress better, but he’d never cared. Even in the NBA, where inactive players were required to wear suits on the bench, he felt uncomfortable—he just wasn’t the gentleman type.

In the end, he picked out a suit, similar to the one he wore at the draft, taking seriously this meeting with his juniors.

Several classmates called, asking if he’d be going back to school. He just laughed and said yes. Truly, it was bound to be an exhilarating moment.

Seven o’clock in the evening, at the stadium—the most meaningful place of all.

Lin Fei arrived to find the place packed. In just two days, the event had been organized and publicized—nothing at the school had ever been this popular.

Few people actually knew him by sight; everyone present knew his name but may have only glimpsed him in passing on campus.

Staring at the scene, Lin Fei didn’t know how to take the stage. Everything had been arranged so hastily, there was no time to prepare a speech or an entrance.

He called Shan Shan.

“Hello, Shan Shan?” he asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Yes. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the basketball court.”

“Where exactly? We’ll come find you.”

An idea came to Lin Fei. “Tell everyone I’m here—let them know from the stage.”

“You want to make a surprise entrance? Senior, you’re really something. Okay!”

After hanging up, someone took the stage.

“Fellow students, tonight we welcome our senior—a basketball star, a super idol for the guys, and the dream lover of the girls!”

The crowd erupted in laughter.

“We are honored to have him here. He’s in the audience—look around you!”

Lin Fei bowed his head and smiled, watching the girl on stage—a tall, elegant, and poised young woman. Could she be Shan Shan? She reminded him of the girl he once liked, not because they looked alike, but because they were both beautiful in his eyes. But this girl wasn’t quite his type.

He touched his nose and stepped onto the stage in casual attire. The crowd gasped, as if seeing a superstar. Compared to him, the fanfare for visiting Korean pop stars seemed trivial. The cheers were deafening: “Lin Fei! Lin Fei! Lin Fei!” perfectly in sync.

Lin Fei raised his hands for calm and began to speak.

“I’m really happy, truly happy, to see my juniors give me such a welcome. I’m flattered.

Even though I’m your senior, I haven’t graduated yet! So calling me ‘senior’ is a bit embarrassing.

Have you ever imagined that one day, the place I stand could also be your stage? Years ago, I kept repeating one phrase: ‘I have a dream.’ Now, standing here, I still want to say it.

My favorite film is ‘Forrest Gump.’ You know that line: ‘Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get—it means never give up before you’ve tried.’ I feel like my journey has been like Forrest’s—just running, always chasing something.

In my third year of high school, I studied desperately and finally got into this university. It was tough, but looking back, it was the hardest and most rewarding time of my life. At university, I threw myself into basketball, didn’t even find a girlfriend, failed a class, but eventually made the school team, led us to historic achievements, made it to the CBA, and incredibly, to the NBA. But now I realize how much of campus life and precious friendships I missed—of course, I also missed my own love story.

Everyone has their own life. I’ve gained a lot, but I’ve also lost a lot. If I could choose again, I might hesitate and pick an ordinary campus life.

In the NBA, I sat on the bench for a long time. Many doubted me. I read the forums—some even said I should just come home rather than embarrass myself. But most of what I saw was encouragement, especially from you, my juniors. With your support, I kept going and going—and finally, I succeeded.

Do you know what they called those few minutes I got? God’s Tears. I don’t even know where I found the courage, but after making the last shot, my mind went completely blank. I learned something: if you can forget yourself, you can become the best version of yourself.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I believe I’ll keep chasing my dreams.

I’m reminded of a song by Andy Lau, ‘Today’—‘I waited so long for this day, waited so long to realize my dream. The road ahead is mine to explore, and I no longer care if I’m tired or not…’” As he sang, tears shimmered in his eyes. The crowd joined in.

At that moment, Lin Fei didn’t even know what he was saying!

“And to Shan Shan, my junior, clearly our school is full of talent!” he joked.

Suddenly, the crowd chanted, “Shoot! Shoot!”

Lin Fei picked up a basketball, dribbled, his movements as smooth as ever, his shot as graceful as a dream.

...

As Lin Fei was leaving, he received a text: “The pretty girl on stage wasn’t me! Senior, good luck!”

That was an unexpected shot. Smiling to himself, he replied, “Same to you!” Clearly, this wasn’t a buzzer-beater.

After this “I Have a Dream” knockoff speech, Lin Fei caught a bus. It had been ages since he’d ridden one—crowded, but familiar and comforting. Even with millions to his name, he still enjoyed watching the thronging crowds and city traffic.

He hurried to meet his friends for their gathering—just over a dozen of them. The plan was to eat and drink heartily, then see what fun might come after; it had been so long since they’d last met, and men, when together, know how to have a good time. Whatever came next would be improvised.

Reuniting with friends after almost a year, they were on the verge of tears, all vowing not to leave sober tonight.

In Shandong custom, Lin Fei was the host, Big Fool the co-host. At the table, no one cared who could hold their liquor—no one wanted to be called a coward. Each started with six shots in one go—a heroic start, more exhilarating than a buzzer-beater.

After a few rounds, the conversation flowed. “Lin Fei, you have no idea how much we regretted not having you at graduation. At least today you made up for it.”

“Don’t mention it! You think I didn’t want to be there? I had some things to handle in America. I missed you all so much! Even now, when I look at my photoshopped face in the graduation photo, I feel awful. If you want to punish me with drinks, I’ll take it.” With that, he downed three more, feeling the alcohol hit. His friends were stunned—his drinking matched his basketball skills, which, to them, were almost mythical.

“Fatty, why didn’t you bring Juan? Lin Fei’s been hoping to see her for ages,” someone teased.

“You really are a success now!” someone said, with a meaning Lin Fei alone understood. He smiled quietly.

“Let’s not talk about that. As long as we’re all happy, that’s enough.”

“I went to school today—your solo speech was amazing!”

“Seriously! We used to think you were quiet, but on the court you came alive, and on stage you shone even brighter. Truly, you can’t judge a book by its cover! Look at you now.” The truth-telling had begun.

Time for some songs! The one they sang most at graduation—“Brothers.” “If in this life we are brothers, in the next I’ll think of you; the drifting river, every night, every night, raining, I think of you…” Suddenly, their eyes glistened with tears—tears worth a king’s ransom.

Ah, Lin Fei, you really do get to people! Fatty always used to say, “Other people sing for money, you sing for your life!” And, “Brother, you’re a legend.” Laughter, song, and the full spectrum of emotions filled the night.

No one could say how much they drank. Suddenly, one friend had an idea: “Let’s go play basketball! It’s been ages—after graduation, there’s never time. Let’s go now, while we’re still drunk!” Sometimes, words fail where a ball can speak. Lin Fei, after all, used to have conversations with the ball, practicing alone at night.

And so they went, stumbling to the court, Lin Fei especially so, vomiting several times along the way. But true friendship means no one leaves sober! The court was nearby, so they made it.

Drunk, they clutched balls and ran back and forth under the hazy glow of streetlights. No one could dribble properly; some carried the ball with one hand, reaching out wildly with the other. Layups were a mess—crab-like sidesteps, wild shots. The game had no rules.

Suddenly, one player, weaving and nearly falling, managed to cross half-court, shoot a three-pointer—miraculously, it went in. All totally drunk, yet still playing—amazing! People say drunken words are honest; who knew you could see true basketball skills after a few drinks? Had Lin Fei reached such a level that even drunk, he played like a pro? If there are people who can play basketball drunk, what should we call it—drunken ball? That’s a real talent.

The court was filled with the smell of liquor and chaos. Several people lay sprawled on the ground, but it felt warm and brotherly. No one knew how long they played. Some fell asleep right there, snoring thunderously. Someone, thoughtful, went to fetch straw to cover the sleeping ones. In the distance, someone shouted, “Hey, why are you pushing our bikes?”

Many couldn’t sleep, chattering away on the ground. “Lin Fei, remember when they called you the basketball madman? No one believed in you—you were a true talent. The hardest thing is perseverance; you had the guts to withstand all that pressure and mockery. You created a miracle. Only madmen can achieve greatness. Remember how we wasted time in the dorm playing Dota, and look at us now.” Talking and talking, Lin Fei drifted into sleep.

In his dreams, he found himself back on stage, those glistening tears in his eyes…