Chapter Seventy-Eight: Yet Another Audacious Move

He Xinghui was flustered—if he got ejected, defeat was inevitable. With Kobe’s current state, scoring two more points was a foregone conclusion. The fans of He Xinghui were anxious too; they couldn’t bear to see their idol lose. Even the referees were uneasy, uncertain about whether the move warranted a call. If they let it go, Kobe’s fans would be upset; if they blew the whistle, they would spoil an epic showdown and leave endless regrets.

Fortunately, in this moment of crisis, He Xinghui came up with a clever solution. Instead of waving his finger, he pressed it against the dimple on his cheek, like a girl acting cute, and said to the referees, “Don’t you think I look adorable?”

Though the gesture was mortifying for a grown man, He Xinghui had no other choice if he wanted to avoid ejection. Some referees were stunned into silence, while others burst out laughing, their composure shattered. In all their hundreds of games, they had never witnessed such a ridiculous moment.

As for the foul call, they decided it was unnecessary. Since He Xinghui hadn’t waved his finger, they had ample room to interpret the situation as they saw fit.

The Clippers players covered their faces, distancing themselves from He Xinghui, unwilling to be associated with him. The Lakers players shouted at the referees, demanding a technical foul for provocation.

“My eyes! My eyes! Oh… I get it. He’s really got the heart of a girl. He wanted to lose the bet so he could dress up in women’s clothes, but something unexpected happened and messed up my plan,” Barkley exclaimed, slapping his thigh as if he’d uncovered some great secret.

At that moment, Smith wished he could tell the audience that he didn’t know this guy at all.

On the court, Kobe’s fans were still calling for a foul, but the referees ignored them and the game continued.

The Lakers kept possession. Kobe received the ball again and forced another shot. Even being blocked didn’t shake his resolve. The opponent’s absurd performance couldn’t dampen his will to win.

This time, the ball went in.

61 to 60—Kobe took the lead by one point.

Kobe pounded his chest, but his appearance lacked the fierce aura of a gorilla, missing that King Kong momentum. Still, his fans didn’t care, nor did Vanessa, who celebrated excitedly on the sidelines.

The Clippers attacked, with thirty seconds left on the clock. In this situation, He Xinghui decided to shoot quickly so his team could get another possession.

Just past half court, about a meter beyond the three-point line, He Xinghui suddenly rose and shot. The ball went in.

61 to 63—He Xinghui reclaimed the lead by two points. There was some luck involved, but that two-point advantage nearly secured victory.

Overcome with excitement, He Xinghui rushed straight to Charlize Theron, wrapped his hands around her head, and kissed her on the lips.

Theron, who had been clapping, was stunned. When she recovered, there was nothing she could do. God knows how many people were watching; if she slapped him, it would become the joke of the year.

Whether she liked it or not, she could only cooperate in the moment. Luckily, He Xinghui kept his composure and released her before things went too far.

Seeing Vanessa nearby, surprised and amused, He Xinghui suddenly had a mischievous thought: if he kissed Vanessa now, would Kobe come after him? That would be quite the thrill.

No, no, no… He Xinghui quickly killed the idea. Too dangerous, too wicked—better not.

...

“Oh my God,” said a neutral observer.

“Shit, motherf—,” muttered a male Kobe fan.

“So romantic,” sighed a female fan, neutral.

“What’s Cousin doing?” asked a child.

He Xinghui’s action was like a stone thrown into a pond, sending ripples throughout the arena. Male fans were so jealous their eyes teared up—why couldn’t they be the lucky ones? After all, that was Charlize Theron, one of the world’s top ten most beautiful women.

Female fans felt jealous too, wishing they had been kissed instead. To be kissed in front of tens of millions of viewers—what a romantic moment. If it were them, they would bask in endless envy and admiration. That was their ultimate pursuit, a moment worth dying for.

“Why not me? Why wasn’t I the one kissed?” cried a female fan, voicing her heart’s desire.

“Come on, I’m still here. Can’t you wait until I leave before saying something like that?” her boyfriend muttered, regretting he’d come to the game. Although he knew his girlfriend had no chance, it felt wrong for her to be thinking about another man.

...

“Motherf—, outrageous.”

“Even beating him up wouldn’t be enough.”

“Agh, comparing myself just makes me angry.”

The Clippers players were so envious they could barely stand it. If not for fear of team penalties, they’d have defected and helped Kobe take down He Xinghui, the villain. Watching him show off every day was unbearable.

Kobe watched the scene, and even his iron heart was shaken. He grew angry, adding fuel to He Xinghui’s fire. He wasn’t just angry at He Xinghui, but at himself for failing to defend him. If only he’d stopped him earlier, He Xinghui wouldn’t have had the chance to steal the show.

...

TNT.

“&%$#@*&%$#...” Barkley was so jealous he could barely speak.

“He’s such a showman. Why didn’t I think of that when I won the championship? Now I feel that, even with a title, my career still has regrets...” Smith said, catching sight of Barkley’s fiery glare and wisely shutting his mouth. Who knows what the already unhinged Barkley might do.

...

In China, the broadcast director often cuts scenes that don’t align with socialist values. But this time, he hesitated, unable to decide quickly if the moment crossed the line. His indecision meant the domestic fans saw the entire episode.

“Well, well, this young man...” Sun Zhengping struggled to find words, settling for an awkward laugh.

Compared to his restraint, the fans were much more exuberant.

“Whoa, oh wow.”

“Such a bold move!”

“Damn, life’s a win.”

“Alright, I’ve learned this one; I’ll try it at my next game.”

“XX Peace, you deserve it.”

Chinese fans rarely witnessed such romance in real life. He Xinghui’s stunt dazzled them, blinding their titanium-plated eyes. Some were already plotting to imitate it.

The uproar settled and the game resumed.

Twenty-six seconds remained, Lakers’ ball, Kobe running down the clock.

“I won’t let this clown have the last laugh. I’ll finish you right here and make your actions look as ridiculous as a clown’s,” Kobe said, shocking He Xinghui by taunting him with trash talk.

“Kobe, I think after this game, you’ll realize I’m your greatest rival in the league. Today, you’ll learn what it feels like to be defeated by your arch-enemy,” He Xinghui replied—not trash talk, but a statement of fact. Its effect was just as biting.

But Kobe was a superstar for a reason. In desperate moments, he unleashed energy no one could imagine.

With five seconds left, Kobe pulled up and shot. The ball went in.

“Kid, you’re too young to take the throne,” Kobe said, patting He Xinghui on the shoulder.

When it came to swagger, he was no slouch either.