Chapter Ninety-One: A Master of Logic

In the postgame interview, the reporters barely bothered to ask about the game just played and instead turned straight to the next one, leaving He Xinghui no chance to bask in the moment.

"He, you’re facing the Suns next. Do you think you can keep this run going and keep winning?" a reporter opened with what was clearly a trap.

"That’s for later. Shouldn’t you be asking about this game right now?" He Xinghui did not throw out any reckless boast. After all, the Suns were strong, and he had no guarantee of victory.

It felt great to slap other people in the face; slapping his own would be another matter entirely.

"He, are you dodging the question because you’re afraid of the Suns?" Johnson laughed. "Can’t you answer it directly?"

If they could get the unbearably arrogant He Xinghui to admit fear of the Suns, it would be enormously entertaining. The anti-He crowd would love it.

Better yet, it might even shatter the image he had built for himself.

Fans who loved his swagger would surely feel a bitter sting if their idol showed weakness.

"Afraid of the Suns? Ridiculous. I can guarantee you one hundred percent that I will not lose to them in the next game," He Xinghui said.

The room erupted with delight. They had laid this snare precisely for him to step into.

One hundred percent? Even Jordan would not dare say that.

"Nonsense. No player can guarantee before a game that he won’t lose. That is pure rubbish," Johnson shot back at once.

"Why not? If I take leave and don’t play, then I can’t lose, can I?" He Xinghui said with a smile.

At that, several inexperienced reporters toppled straight out of their chairs.

That logic was absurdly airtight.

If he didn’t play, of course he couldn’t lose.

If the Clippers lost, what did it have to do with him not being on the floor?

In fact, it only highlighted how indispensable he was.

"But on what grounds would you take leave? Taking leave without cause shows a lack of professionalism," Johnson blurted, flustered. If He Xinghui simply skipped the game on leave, there really would be nothing he could do about it.

And this was a game He Xinghui was likely to lose; Johnson did not want him to slip away from the reckoning.

"Who said I’d be taking leave without cause? I’m injured," He Xinghui said.

"You're injured? I don’t believe it. You’re a liar!" Johnson snapped. He Xinghui had been bouncing around on the court just moments ago; how could he possibly look injured?

"My heart is injured. I won the game and none of you even congratulated me. That hurt my feelings deeply. Coach, is that reason enough to take leave?" He Xinghui asked Delaney.

Delaney’s inner response was: I don’t know. It’s none of my business. Don’t ask me.

The reporters were collectively speechless. He Xinghui’s words were a little shameless, perhaps, but they had indeed failed even to offer a single congratulations. That was not exactly professional either.

"You..." Johnson wanted to strike back, but he could not think of what to say and could only seethe at his own slow wits.

"Ha ha ha, just kidding. I’ll play in the next game," He Xinghui said.

Damn it. The few reporters who had just picked themselves up off the floor landed there again.

They wanted very much to complain: could you not act normal for once? Be serious. This is a press conference, a show watched by countless people.

"The quality of reporters these days is really terrible. They can’t even ask a question properly," He Xinghui said, shaking his head as the reporters looked miserable, wearing the expression of one lamenting another’s misfortune.

Those words stabbed Johnson right in the heart. From his angle, He Xinghui was wearing a wicked smile as he looked at him. Feeling both guilty and enraged, Johnson snapped, "Why are you looking at me? Are you saying I have low quality?"

"Oh, no, no, no, don’t misunderstand. I’m not targeting you. What I mean is that everyone here has low quality."

At that moment, He Xinghui seemed possessed by an elder martial brother, his arrogance fully unleashed.

What a pity Johnson was not as bold as the black bear; otherwise He Xinghui would have demonstrated fists to all directions and feet to the four seas.

"That’s all for today’s questions," the Clippers’ press officer finally came out again to clean up the mess. He had already decided to ask the boss for a raise. This job was too hard; it was wearing him to the bone.

The farce ended. Though the reporters had failed to coax He Xinghui into declaring that he would surely beat the Suns, they still had his attack on the press to write about.

Meanwhile, in front of television sets, fans were thoroughly entertained by the explosive press conference.

Before this, they had never seen such an entertaining, intense one.

Only He Xinghui would dare go head-to-head with reporters like that.

"If you don’t play, you won’t lose. Ha ha ha, Cousin’s logic is flawless."

"So it turns out I’m stronger than Duncan. His NBA losing rate is about forty percent, while mine is zero."

"A wounded heart is still an injury. Nothing wrong with that. What, you look down on mental illness?"

Fans put their ingenuity to work, inventing all sorts of amusing lines.

But of course, that still was not the main point.

Those humorous bits could have been discussed at length another time. But right now, the clash between He Xinghui and the reporters was what truly deserved attention.

"Ha ha ha, don’t misunderstand. I’m not targeting you. I almost thought Cousin was about to apologize, but no—he did not disappoint me after all. He was targeting everyone."

"So霸气. Only someone with immense confidence could say something like that. A normal person would never even think of such a line."

"Cool. That’s exactly how you should talk back to reporters."

"Love it, love it. Cousin is my eternal god."

America was a place that prized individuality. The more unorthodox and unconventional the behavior, the more likely it was to be celebrated.

It was much like the hippie culture of old, which had once swept the nation.

All of He Xinghui’s behavior catered perfectly to the fantasies of those who sought a self-styled, unconventional expression of identity.

This press conference further worsened his relationship with the media, but his popularity among fans only grew stronger.

On the 17th, in the sports pages:

[The Lakers battle the Heat, and Kobe drops another forty-plus.]

[Going shot for shot with Kobe, Wade pours in 37 but cannot save the day.]

[Arenas scores 35 to topple the 76ers.]

Most major outlets tacitly followed the same pattern, giving top priority to the brightest performances by domestic stars.

It was as if doing so could somehow preserve their standing.

He Xinghui’s game against the Jazz was placed at the very end.

But the choices made by online readers proved one thing:

Public opinion could be guided, but not completely controlled.

The story buried at the bottom ended up receiving the most clicks.

Kobe scoring 40? What was there to see? He had done the same two days ago. Boring.

As for Wade and Arenas?

If even Kobe with 40 points was not worth watching, then they had even less to offer. Boring.

If one had to say whose news was most interesting, it was still Cousin.

[Big Cousin drops another famous quote, revealing a rare logical genius.]

[Big Cousin clashes with reporters again, bluntly calling them unprofessional.]

[Arrogant He hurls another threat, claiming the Suns will be beaten.]

The final headline came from the pen of the notorious anti-He Johnson.

He Xinghui had already explained that the line about beating the Suns one hundred percent was just a joke, but Johnson, nearly driven mad with rage, simply ignored the facts and twisted the quote out of context.

To the fans, however, such behavior was as laughable as a clown's act.