Chapter Fifty-Five: Contrast

On the court, the game was a back-and-forth battle. The Clippers held the lead, but the margin hovered steadily between three and five points—a slim difference. Midway through the first quarter, the Celtics were on offense. Davis drove to the basket, twisting in mid-air past Kaman’s defense for another acrobatic layup—another high-difficulty shot converted.

By this point, Davis had made four of his seven shots, an impressive display. After landing, instead of hurrying back on defense, he struck a stylish pose beneath the rim to celebrate. It had been a long time since he’d played so well, and the excitement went to his head.

He had no idea that at that very moment, Hexinghui was already sprinting past half-court. From the baseline, Cassell quickly inbounded the ball, sending a pinpoint long pass down the court. The ball landed in Hexinghui’s hands, with no one between him and the basket. Yet he chose not to dunk, but to pull up for a three-pointer instead.

It went in.

That brought his tally to five out of seven, including two from beyond the arc, for a total of twelve points. Originally, Hexinghui had wanted to let out a triumphant shout—a unique and eye-catching celebration could easily win over new fans. But he restrained his excitement, deliberately keeping a calm mask, all to create a sharp contrast with Davis and render the latter’s celebration ridiculous. He jogged back on defense with an expressionless face, as if to say, “Is scoring a basket really worth getting worked up over?”

In that instant, Hexinghui had ascended to a new level. He had mastered the art of trash-talking through expression alone, riling up his opponent without uttering a word. At least, judging by the anger flaring in Davis’s eyes, the effect was no weaker than if he’d taunted him aloud.

Hexinghui’s cool composure made Davis’s recent celebration look clownish by comparison. In the broadcast booth, Smith chuckled, “Davis scores two, and Hexinghui immediately answers with three, making Davis’s celebration look downright comical. Is he celebrating because his team is falling further behind?”

“That was a sneak attack—Hexinghui is too cunning,” Barkley grumbled through clenched teeth. He had been hoping Hexinghui would get crushed, so he could mock him mercilessly on air, but Davis wasn’t holding up his end. With no better option, he could only complain about Hexinghui’s slyness.

“No, no, no, that’s just smart play. Hexinghui is a player who uses his head,” came the counterpoint from his co-host. One would disparage, the other would praise—it was their usual routine.

On the court, Rivers had finally lost his patience and called a timeout. If things continued this way, Hexinghui would tear his team apart.

If he didn’t call a timeout now, his coaching would be called into question. Unfortunately, drawing up plays was not Rivers’s forte. He could only offer encouragement: “Ricky, stay focused, give it a hundred percent out there…”

Thankfully, he had his assistant coaches. When Rivers finished, his assistant instructed Pierce to double-team Hexinghui.

Timeout over, the teams returned to the floor. The Clippers went on offense, getting the ball once again to Hexinghui—it seemed they intended to target Davis relentlessly. This time, Pierce arrived to double-team him. With two defenders converging, Hexinghui had neither space to drive nor an open shot; he was forced to pass. In his haste, he sent the ball toward Cassell, only for West to intercept it—a Celtics fast break ensued.

What looks like a simple pass is, in reality, anything but; otherwise, playmakers wouldn’t be so highly valued in the league. Last season, Nash averaged fifteen and a half points per game and still took home the regular-season MVP; he’ll likely repeat this year. It’s his passing that generates the best opportunities for his teammates.

After the turnover, Hexinghui was a little frustrated, but his teammates didn’t mind. In this league, turnovers are simply a part of the game.

On the next possession, when Hexinghui saw Pierce moving in to double-team him again, he quickly passed to Cassell before Pierce could close the distance, letting Cassell run the offense. This avoided another turnover, but it also diminished Hexinghui’s threat on offense.

Yet the commentators didn’t diminish Hexinghui’s performance in the least. On CCTV, Sun Zhengping remarked, “Wow, he’s getting double-teamed—what an honor for a rookie! This is the opponent’s recognition of his ability. There are players who go ten years without being treated like this.”

“Axing is drawing two defenders’ attention for the Clippers, which means a four-on-three advantage for the rest…” Zhang Helin continued, analyzing how Hexinghui’s presence benefited the team by drawing the extra defender.

This praise was echoed not just by Chinese commentators but also by American broadcasters. They had no choice—Hexinghui had simply played too well in the first quarter: high scoring, high efficiency, and attracting double-teams—all the marks of a core player.

Had Hexinghui become the Clippers’ centerpiece? The thought flashed through many minds—only to seem utterly absurd the next moment.

Basketball is a team sport; even Jordan couldn’t win without the right help.

With the defense focused on him, Hexinghui began to embrace the more tedious aspects of the game: drawing defenders, running plays to disrupt the opposing defense, and focusing on defense himself. These contributions didn’t show up in the box score, but they were crucial. With Hexinghui attracting so much attention, his teammates found themselves with easier looks. Brand began to assert himself, attacking the rim again and again, rendering the Celtics’ adjustments ineffective. Though they had limited Hexinghui’s scoring, they’d unleashed Brand—the real weapon.

If a team has just two stars, they’re nearly impossible to defend—think Shaq and Kobe. The saving grace for the Celtics was that the Clippers’ defense was nowhere near the level of the three-peat Lakers. Playing against the Clippers was relatively easy.

At small forward, McCarty was no match for Pierce. When Ricky Davis’s efficiency dropped, Pierce took up the offensive burden, leaving McCarty helpless and on the verge of tears. Known as a scoring machine with a dazzling array of moves, Paul Pierce’s offensive arsenal was far more varied than Hexinghui’s—posting up, driving, pull-up jumpers, he could do it all.

After Pierce knocked down three straight shots, Hexinghui couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to provide help defense. But Pierce instantly kicked the ball out to Davis, who was wide open and scored easily.

This season, Pierce averaged nearly five assists per game—not overwhelming, but not to be ignored. After one attempt at help defense, Hexinghui stopped worrying about McCarty. He didn’t want Davis racking up too many points—that would affect his own reputation and his ability to generate “anger points.” The worse Davis played, the more upset he’d get, and the easier it would be to provoke him. Conversely, if Davis had a good game, he’d be in high spirits, and Hexinghui’s trash talk would lose its sting.

“Nice, you scraped together another two points,” Hexinghui taunted as he returned to Davis’s side, continuing his verbal barrage. His words suggested Davis was only capable of picking up easy points, lacking real skill.

Though these taunts weren’t quite as cutting as before, Hexinghui made up for it with sheer volume, tossing out one jab after another without missing a beat.