Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Countenance of All Living Things

“Damn, I’m jealous.”
Mobley cursed as he watched He Xinghui basking in the cheers of the fans.
“So am I.”
“So am I.”
Cassell and Kaman spoke with a hint of grievance in their tone, clearly feeling sour inside.
“You’re only now starting to envy him? I’ve been jealous of him for a long time.”
Yaroslav was even worse, his voice tinged with a whimper.
“Me too,” McCarty said, and the two embraced, comforting each other in their misery.
“Let’s beat him up later. The guy never includes us in his celebrations.”
Maggatte, dressed in a suit, suggested, regretting bitterly that he hadn’t been able to play in this match.
His suggestion was met with unanimous approval.
Whenever other players shined, they celebrated with their teammates—shoulder bumps, hugs, shared joy. Only He Xinghui preferred to steal the spotlight all by himself.
Captain Brand stood silently by, recalling his agent’s advice. The agent had urged him to seek a transfer, because the brilliance of He Xinghui was simply too dazzling.
To be his teammate—even with better stats—meant getting less attention, which could be demoralizing.
As for status, there was no way to compete with He Xinghui in the future.
This was only He Xinghui’s first season, and he was already enjoying the treatment reserved for a team’s core.
After this season, Brand’s position as leader would surely be lost.
If the Clippers were championship contenders, Brand wouldn’t mind being second in command.
The problem was, the Clippers clearly had no hope of winning the title.
To be the number two on a team with no shot at a championship—Brand wasn’t satisfied with that.
He was still young, and still wanted to fight, to raise his historical standing.
Compared to the Clippers’ complicated feelings, the Celtics were simply angry and jealous.
He Xinghui’s brilliance only deepened their dejection as the backdrop.
They had fantasized about stopping He Xinghui’s game-winning shot, imagining the media ridiculing him as a clown.
But now, they looked more like the clowns.
Their bold words and lofty ambitions seemed ridiculous in hindsight.
Each time they remembered, they couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, unable to face anyone.
“Let’s go. We’ll win it back next time.”
In the end, Pierce’s thick skin won out, and he quickly recovered.
At the same time, in the TNT studio—
Barkley was left speechless.

If He Xinghui hadn’t made the shot, he could have criticized him from a hundred and eight angles.
But now that He Xinghui had sunk it, Barkley’s previous bravado became a sign of confidence.
Heroism is judged by victory or defeat—not only in China, but everywhere.
“Without a doubt, a future star of the league is rising. I dare say his achievements will not fall short of Kobe’s.”
Smith, rarely so outspoken, boldly predicted He Xinghui’s future.
To compare him to Kobe was high praise indeed.
If the league divides players into five tiers, Kobe now belongs in the top tier, alongside O’Neal, Duncan, Nash, James, and Nowitzki.
In terms of commercial value, Kobe stands above Duncan, Nash, and Nowitzki.
Smith’s evaluation stunned the fans watching at home—they could hardly believe they were witnessing the rise of a superstar.
Of course, some fans strongly disagreed.
Especially Kobe’s diehard supporters, who couldn’t accept the notion that a rookie could be compared to their idol.
“Let’s talk about this after he wins a championship. At best, he’s another Jamison—maybe not even as good as Jamison.”
A Kobe fan sneered.
“That’s rich, as if Kobe won all his championships by himself. Without O’Neal, he’s nothing.”
A Kobe detractor retorted, and a heated debate ensued.
China, CCTV.
“This game was absolutely thrilling,” Sun Zhengping sighed. In the past, commentating other games felt like clocking in at work—no passion.
But calling He Xinghui’s match just now, his heart surged and swelled as the game reached its climax.
When He Xinghui actually completed the game-winning shot, he couldn’t help but shout, so exhilarated was he.
“It looks like our country’s basketball is finally about to shine. With Big Yao and A Xing, we’re guaranteed at least a spot in the world’s top eight.”
Zhang Heli actually wanted to say top four, but his cautious nature made him settle for top eight.
“Coach Zhang, what do you think about A Xing’s strength compared to Big Yao?”
Sun Zhengping asked.
“......”
Zhang Heli was at a loss—this was a question bound to offend someone.
Whether he said He Xinghui was stronger or Yao Ming was stronger, some people would be displeased.
So he played it safe, saying, “They play different positions, have different technical strengths, and even different personalities—it’s impossible to compare. The only certainty is that both are the future of the men’s national team...”
For fans, the question of who is stronger—He Xinghui or Yao Ming—isn’t crucial, at least not yet.
What mattered now was that He Xinghui’s playing style was so cool, so stylish, so audacious.
A game-winning shot is one thing, but telling your opponent beforehand—now that’s not just defeating, but demoralizing.
Still, it must be admitted, this kind of swagger feels incredibly satisfying.

“Whatever, from now on Brother Xing is my number one idol.”
A fan declared.
“What about Yao Ming? Wasn’t he your idol before?”
His friend asked.
“Yao Ming can only be my second idol. Can’t help it—he just doesn’t play as cool as Brother Xing. Besides, with my height and build, I can only imitate Brother Xing’s style. No way I can copy Yao Ming.”
“Imitating Brother Xing’s style—be careful, you might get roughed up. There are no referees to protect you on the street courts.”
“No worries, I’ve got life insurance.”
...
“Do you see that? That’s the future king of Los Angeles. You actually wanted to trade him—I have to question your competence.”
Sterling mocked Elgin Baylor, who had previously been urging him to trade He Xinghui.
The Big Bird had offered an irresistible deal.
To acquire He Xinghui, the Big Bird racked his brains—offering quality players and trying to match salaries.
He had to bring in a third team to make it work.
The final plan: the Pacers would send Artest, Jermaine O’Neal, and a first-round pick to get He Xinghui and a bad contract from the Blazers.
A ten-million-a-year player, Ratliff, scoring less than five points per game.
The Blazers would send Ratliff and two first-round picks to get Jermaine O’Neal.
The Clippers would send He Xinghui and receive Artest plus three first-round picks.
That was the gist; any minor salary mismatches would be smoothed over with trade exceptions.
On the surface, the Pacers sacrificed the most—two franchise stars, a first-round pick, and a bad contract.
But in reality, they weren’t losing out. Jermaine O’Neal had injury concerns, Artest was a troublemaker with plans to leave.
By landing He Xinghui, the team’s box office was guaranteed.
If He Xinghui grew into a superstar, it would be a massive win.
The Blazers cleared a bad contract and got O’Neal, pairing him with Randolph to form Portland’s twin towers.
The Clippers seemed to profit most, giving up a late pick to get Artest and three first-rounders.
Just draft a great center, patch up the roster, and they could build a championship contender with no weaknesses.
At least, that’s what Elgin Baylor believed.
Unfortunately, before he could finish explaining his reasoning to Sterling, Sterling had already vetoed the trade.
Sterling didn’t even give a reason; he just asked Elgin to watch the game with him.
When He Xinghui hit the game-winner, everything became clear.
A rookie who gets MVP chants in his first season—if they dared trade him away, the club’s glass windows would need replacing every other week.