Chapter 46: A Fifty-Point Game and a Reunion with the Rookie of the Year

He had finally bought a Lamborghini, and it seemed as though the world was just that beautiful. His dream had finally come true, and everything felt so effortless. Truly, in the moment when you achieve your dreams, only you can truly savor the wonder of it all.

In the following game against the Pistons, however, Lin Fei was far from successful. The point guard he faced was the aging McGrady, a former two-time scoring champion whose career had been marred by injuries. Now, on a veteran contract with the Pistons, McGrady had surprised everyone with a late-career resurgence. Lin Fei was up against just such an opponent—no longer as fast, no longer as precise in his shooting—at least in theory. McGrady’s legs should no longer have kept up with Lin Fei. Though McGrady’s height gave him an advantage at point guard, for Lin Fei, that was never an issue.

Yet, McGrady easily posted a triple-double against Lin Fei: 15 points, 10 rebounds, and 10 assists. Lin Fei managed 20 points, but that was from 16 attempts, making only 5 shots—his field goal percentage not even reaching 35%, a far cry from his prior scoring-leader performances.

His prolonged slump began to raise doubts about his abilities. Lin Fei seemed trapped in a curse; no matter what he did, he couldn't get the ball through the hoop. His speed might still be there, but even when wide open, the ball refused to fall. It was deeply frustrating.

That night, Lin Fei quietly reflected on the reasons for his struggles. At the start of the season, he could score at will—so what had changed? Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind: Had his recent training been less diligent? In the past, even after games, he would still squeeze in a little practice. Now, it seemed ages since he’d last done that. Could such a small change have such a huge impact? Impossible! He used to feel so grounded on the court. But now? There was a strange emptiness inside.

Lin Fei called a friend he hadn’t spoken to in a long time.

“How have you been lately?” Lin Fei asked.

“Not bad, just a bit uneventful,” came the reply, followed by a little laugh.

“I feel the same. Suddenly, I feel so helpless, so lost. Standing on the court, I want to win, but I’m stuck in a strange cycle—nothing goes in, no matter what I try.”

“You’re still playing basketball?” His friend seemed unaware that Lin Fei had become a global basketball superstar in the NBA. “Really, there’s no need to be so obsessed with things.”

Hearing that, Lin Fei’s heart tightened with a trace of sadness. He had achieved fame and fortune, commanding the court at will, but he still couldn’t win one person’s heart. He forced a small laugh, “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“No, not at all. Maybe I’ve put on a little weight.”

“Then you’re as beautiful as ever.”

...

Lin Fei muttered to himself, “No need to be so obsessed. You mean I don’t have to wait for you anymore, huh?” Suddenly, he threw his head back and let out a long, anguished cry. “What’s the point of cars and houses? What’s the point of fame and fortune? My cars and houses, my reputation—aren’t they grand enough? Why, then, can’t I win her affection?”

The night was so still, as if it might swallow the entire city.

A sudden urge to cry washed over him. His dreams had once been so simple, so pure. Now? The more you gain, the more you lose.

He went to train. Seeing the basketball, motionless on the floor, he thought, My friend, it seems only you have accompanied me all this way, only you have loved me so deeply.

Basketballs have a soul, truly. When you pour your heart into the game, it learns your language. Lin Fei had always had an uncanny feeling for the ball, and now it returned.

“Be yourself. The more you bear, the lower you fly. The more you let go, the faster you soar.” It was as if the basketball itself was speaking to him. Perhaps loneliness had lasted too long. Friends like Keynes would go through fire for him, but soulmates were rare. They were all friends, yes, but not of the same kind. Only a handful could understand his heart.

Suddenly, Lin Fei realized how long it had been since he’d felt so intimately connected to the ball. Over the past while, he had clearly let himself go—Lamborghinis and champagne, fleeting pleasures that could never deceive his lonely heart. He picked up the ball, stepped into the backcourt, and let fly a three-pointer from deep. The ball flew straight and true toward the rim—swish! Even from the far end, the crisp sound was unmistakable. The ball was in.

Was this shot Lin Fei’s declaration—I’m back?

It turned out that the heavier you take things, the harder it is to soar. The noise and excitement of recent days had, in fact, only weighed him down further. At this thought, Lin Fei sent another three-pointer sailing through the net from the backcourt.

In the next game, Lin Fei would face last season’s Rookie of the Year, Arnold. In the blink of an eye, a season had passed, and there they were, meeting again. If not for Arnold last season, Lin Fei might have claimed the league’s highest rookie honor with his late-season surge. That would have been his first NBA accolade. And if not for Lin Fei, Arnold would have basked alone in the glory of being the league’s top newcomer. Lin Fei’s dazzling start to the season had even overshadowed Arnold, but now, a dozen games in, Arnold seemed the more promising prospect.

Arnold was averaging 25 points and 13 rebounds per game, both among the league leaders, while Lin Fei’s scoring, after a string of 30-plus-point games early on, had dipped but still held at 25. Their head-to-head clash was sure to draw all eyes. Some people are destined to be rivals from the very start—like Jordan and Malone, Duncan and Billups, Anthony and James, Yao and Stoudemire. They were all great, but only rivals can truly measure each other's greatness. Now, the most anticipated matchup was Lin Fei versus Arnold.

Their positions on the court were worlds apart, but their stats made for an easy comparison.

At the tip-off, both Lin Fei and Arnold showed strong offensive instincts. Arnold grabbed three offensive rebounds right off the bat, slamming two back in for emphatic dunks, as if to declare dominion—this paint belongs to me.

Lin Fei hadn’t yet entered the game, but he was already on his feet, burning with desire for the court. No way—I won’t let you run wild like that. This court is mine! Lin Fei clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Every second on the bench was agony.

Midway through the first quarter, Lin Fei checked in. By then, Arnold had already tallied 8 points and 6 rebounds. Lin Fei glared fiercely at his opponent, exuding the murderous aura of one possessed—a killer’s intensity only found in those with an unquenchable thirst to score.

Coach Nelson knew Lin Fei had been off his game recently, but he also saw his hunger. As he sent Lin Fei in, he said, “Remember, no matter when you step on the court, this team is yours. This court is yours.” Lin Fei felt a surge of inexplicable strength at his back.

From the moment he stepped on, Lin Fei went wild—racing the ball up past half-court in four seconds, pulling up from two steps beyond the center line for a deep three. Everyone knew Lin Fei had struggled lately; such spectacular shots had become rare. But this one?

Swish—the ball sailed cleanly through the net. After scoring, Lin Fei exchanged high-fives with his opponent, his confidence undiminished.

Arnold, further fired up, threw down a tomahawk dunk over Claude-son, pinning him beneath the rim and hanging there to proclaim: I am the true king. See that, Lin Fei? Only those who dominate the paint are true rulers of the court. The Warriors’ interior was being crushed; Jobs and Claude-son were ineffective, missing even layups. Aix seldom drove inside, preferring jump shots. The Warriors had speed and solid organization, but lacked a finisher.

Lin Fei, on his second play, took the ball coast-to-coast straight at the basket—this time a direct confrontation with Arnold. Arnold closed in fast, and Lin Fei charged the rim, unable to stop in the paint. With no choice but to power forward, Arnold, eyes locked on him, was poised for a chase-down block. Lin Fei, nearly behind the backboard, twisted in midair for a 180-degree reverse layup. Arnold was right there, nearly pinning him to the glass, but with a nearly unnatural hand position, Lin Fei spun the ball off the backboard with fierce left-side English. The ball spun rapidly, skimming the rim before dropping in, as Lin Fei crashed with a bang into the stanchion.

The arena erupted. “Unbelievable! A top-10 play! That was gorgeous—footwork, speed, aerial evasion, the reverse—absolutely perfect!” the commentators exclaimed.

Lin Fei had utterly shaken off his slump. His competitive fire now fueled his relentless scoring, running, and shooting.

Arnold, too, was a force of nature, repeatedly overpowering the Warriors’ defense. This was more than a basketball game—it was cinema come to life, the very definition of “human highlight reel.”

In the closing moments, Lin Fei nailed a three-pointer and let out a triumphant roar. That shot was his tenth three of the night, nearly tying the league’s single-game record of twelve. Lin Fei finished with a staggering 50 points, a new career high and his first 50-point game of the season. As many said, “Three-point records? Lin Fei will break them all—it’s only a matter of time.” Behind him stood a dejected Arnold, who put up a monstrous double-double: 30 points, 22 rebounds, and 14 free throw attempts. Incredible! Both were only sophomores, yet they unleashed such astonishing energy.

Fly, fly—the sky is your only limit! That was how Sports Weekly described Lin Fei’s performance. Heaven bears witness: a king is born.