Chapter Ninety-Six: Kill the Body, Destroy the Heart

He Xinghui was not especially powerful and seldom dunked; he relied mainly on jump shots.

At that moment, Raja Bell had not been thinking that far ahead at all. Ever aggressive on defense, he simply stepped squarely into He Xinghui’s path.

He meant to use his own body to draw an offensive foul and do his part for the team.

Without that kind of defensive mentality, he never could have risen from an undrafted nobody to a vital piece on a strong team.

The instant people saw it, the crowd shot to its feet.

A clash of flesh and flesh like that was exactly the sort of thing male fans loved most.

Of course, some bold young women loved it too.

A few female spectators even covered their eyes, likely because the sight was too violent.

He Xinghui leaped high, split his legs wide, and with his left hand even braced Bell’s shoulder for a moment.

Then he simply sailed cleanly over him and smashed the ball through the rim with a thunderous finish.

It was brutally violent, and utterly stunning.

The whole sequence was much like Carter’s dunk over the French center.

The only difference was that Bell was a little shorter.

But that made no difference at all to the crowd’s satisfaction.

This was a genuine riding dunk, something exceedingly rare in an official game.

What’s more, before the game He Xinghui had boasted that he would fulfill Diaz’s wish and perform exactly such a dunk.

Now he had delivered on his word, and the dunk carried an added layer of meaning.

“MVP! MVP! Superstar!”

The arena erupted.

After one of his die-hard fans had deliberately looked up the Chinese meaning of He Xinghui’s name, he had gained yet another nickname.

Compared with that, “superstar” sounded a little more imposing than “big cousin,” and fit the dunk just right.

As soon as he landed, He Xinghui ran straight toward Diaz. He had to hurry and complete his celebration, because he could not be sure there would be a timeout next.

If the Suns launched a fast break right then, he would lose his chance to stab Bell in the heart.

He Xinghui was clearly overthinking it. The NBA was a business league, and there was no way it would ruin such a classic moment.

A scene this iconic deserved to be shown to the audience again and again, until everyone was satisfied.

At a time like this, to keep playing without a timeout would be unforgivable.

So although the Suns had not called one, the game did stop, because the officials did.

The giant screen began replaying He Xinghui’s riding dunk in slow motion, while He Xinghui was already in front of Diaz, leaning his face forward.

They had not arranged this beforehand.

But He Xinghui believed Diaz would not be foolish enough to reject such a spotlight moment.

Sure enough, understanding his meaning, Diaz leaned in and kissed him.

And the uninhibited Diaz did not kiss him on the cheek. She simply turned He Xinghui’s head straight and kissed him on the lips.

“Jealous. So jealous.”

Leo played the perfect reaction meme off to the side.

Of course, he was only saying it. He was not exactly short on beautiful women. It was the male stars with poor luck in love who were aching inside, and the ordinary men on the other side of the screen who would never have a chance to taste Diaz’s lips.

“Damn it, I’m just trying to watch a game and I still have to be force-fed this public display of affection. Is life really this hard?”

“Didn’t he already have Charlize? How is he still flirting with Diaz? That’s too much. Can’t he leave one for me?”

“Let me enjoy a scene like this just once, and dying would be worth it.”

Countless male fans shed tears of envy.

“Damn it, he got to show off again, and he got to take advantage again.”

Barkley slammed the table hard.

“Come on, Charles. You were always too honest when you played,” Smith said with a laugh.

“After this game I’m going to suggest to Stern that players be banned from showing affection during games. Competitive basketball ought to be a little purer.”

Barkley played the villain for a moment, and it was obvious this would once again stir up arguments among fans.

Should players be allowed to use unconventional celebrations during a game or not?

But that was for later. On the court, Bell stared at He Xinghui with a hollow expression.

This was not the first time he had been made into a backdrop, but this was the most painful of them all.

Being ridden over for a dunk was embarrassing enough. Worse still were He Xinghui’s heartless words.

When He Xinghui had boasted earlier, Bell had truly thought he was mad.

He never imagined that the clown would turn out to be himself.

He Xinghui had done exactly as he said, taking fame, glory, and beauty all at once.

And Bell had been the one to make it possible.

Thinking of that, Bell regretted stepping up on defense, regretted playing this game, and his heart ached.

“Bro, don’t take it to heart. We’ll win this game,” Nash and Marion came over to comfort him. They could both understand how Bell felt at the moment.

Even they, as mere bystanders, felt a twinge of envy now, let alone the man involved.

“I know,” Bell replied in a dazed voice.

He understood everything, but actually not caring about it was impossible.

Play resumed, and Bell’s focus dropped sharply.

If only I had not stepped up on defense that time.

That thought kept echoing through his mind, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

Strike while the iron is hot. On an NBA court, being merciful to your opponent is being cruel to yourself.

The Clippers began feeding the ball to He Xinghui again and again, letting him attack Bell directly.

Bell, still dazed, was far less efficient on defense, and he soon committed several mistakes, allowing He Xinghui to score repeatedly.

In the end, D’Antoni had no choice but to call a timeout and take Bell out so he could calm down.

With the Suns’ perimeter anchor removed, the Clippers’ disadvantage immediately shrank.

At the same time, the score became 47 to 48, with the Clippers pulling ahead by one.

Of course, that lead was almost meaningless. The battle ahead was what mattered.

Coming in for Bell was James Jones, a swingman with good size for both guard and forward spots.

Deadly from three, weak on defense, and not much of a shot creator with the ball.

On the Suns’ next possession, Jones was matched up with He Xinghui.

Jones said, “You shouldn’t have done Raja like that. He’s a good guy.”

“You mean I’m supposed to coddle you all then? Fine, go ahead and attack. I won’t defend, so you won’t say I’m bullying you again.”

He Xinghui straightened up, stepped aside, and adopted the stance of a man who refused to defend.

Those words nearly stunned the referee silly, leaving him unable to tell whether it counted as a foul.

If you said it did, He Xinghui did not seem to have done anything heaven-defying.

If you said it did not, his behavior was too bizarre to ignore.

The last player this strange had been the Worm himself, Rodman. He had once sat on the floor in a tantrum, demanding a call be reversed, refusing to get up until the referee changed it.

In the end, he was ejected on the spot.

Compared with that, He Xinghui was being unreasonable too, but he was not disrupting the flow of the game.

So the referee did not blow the whistle.

Jones, standing nearby, was almost furious to death. He had merely spoken a fair word, so what was the meaning of He Xinghui looking so wronged?

And what did he mean, refusing to defend? The ball wasn’t even in my hands. Defend what, exactly?

Enraged, Jones reached out for the ball.

He had no intention of being polite to He Xinghui. He wanted to bury a three and make the Clippers pay, preferably enough to anger Dunleavy into taking that obnoxious guy off the floor.

Jones called for the ball, and Nash hesitated briefly before deciding to pass it.

The instant the ball left his hands, he regretted it, because he clearly saw the corner of He Xinghui’s mouth lift ever so slightly.