Chapter Sixty-Four: Passing the Ball—To Think It, to Achieve It

Having untied the knot in his heart over that scoreless game, Lin Fei now needed only to help his team win more matches.

The next game was against the Lakers—a team Lin Fei perhaps loved to face the most. Every time he played against them, his state was excellent.

"Maybe I should listen to my teammates and pass the ball more, as long as there’s an opportunity!" Lin Fei told himself before the game.

Once again, Lin Fei came off the bench.

The Warriors’ starting lineup faced an aging Lakers squad. On the court, the team moved the ball continuously, embodying Coach Nelson’s philosophy: the ball is the center, and it must move faster than the players. The league had already struggled with the Warriors’ whirlwind style, and now, facing this even faster tactic, they seemed powerless. Midway through the first quarter, the Warriors led the Lakers 16–10.

Nelson substituted Lin Fei into the game. Before stepping onto the court, Lin Fei kept reminding himself: more passing! Pass! Pass!

As soon as he entered, Lin Fei received the ball, took two dribbles, and immediately passed to a teammate. He ran off the ball, sprinting to the frontcourt. The ball rotated through the hands of two teammates and returned to him. Lin Fei instinctively raised his arms, ready to shoot—but the words "pass the ball" flashed through his mind. He hesitated, then quickly passed to Jobs, who was already well-positioned. Jobs caught the ball without the slightest pause, turned, and jumped—nothing but net.

That assist left Lin Fei feeling strangely light.

At that moment, Lin Fei was tasked with guarding Fisher. The aging Fisher still possessed solid perimeter skills, and facing Lin Fei’s defense, he calmly sank a three-pointer. In truth, Lin Fei had badly lost track of his man.

A surge of competitiveness rose in Lin Fei; he wanted to rack up points in front of Fisher. "Baldy, if I weren’t focused on passing today, you’d be in trouble." Everyone has two sides—this was Lin Fei’s impulsive side speaking, but rationality prevailed.

This time, Lin Fei ran straight to the midcourt line, letting his teammates inbound the ball and always staying ready to receive it.

A quick exchange of passes brought the ball up, and Lin Fei was waiting at the three-point line. With Fisher closely trailing him, catching the ball proved tricky. Lin Fei retreated a few steps, finally receiving it, but the Lakers’ defense was already set.

In these situations, the Warriors’ tactics relied on constant movement, especially from the forwards and wings, plus some motion from the point guard to create open shots. But with Lin Fei on the floor, his teammates weren’t yet familiar with his style of organizing the offense. Lin Fei recalled the coach’s instructions, but trying to apply them rigidly felt like grasping at straws—there simply wasn’t time.

He steadied himself. Fine! I’ll rely on my own instincts! Yet this time, Lin Fei didn’t want to score by himself, but to create a scoring opportunity through his own ability.

He observed the situation: the defenders on Jobs and Claudson overlapped a bit. If he made a quick cut, both defenders would help, leaving one man open. All he had to do was get the ball to the unguarded player. "I really am too clever," Lin Fei thought, a thrill running through him.

A burst of speed—no need for fancy moves, just pure acceleration was enough to shake off Fisher. As expected, both help defenders came, leaving Claudson’s man out of position. Lin Fei slipped a pass between his legs to Claudson, who finished with a three-step dunk. The crowd erupted—no one could say if they were more amazed by Lin Fei’s uncanny pass or Claudson’s thunderous slam.

Coach Nelson watched in disbelief. This kid’s adjustment is so quick! Two assists as soon as he entered the game. Yesterday, he was all about playing solo and jacking up threes; today, he suddenly stops shooting altogether. Such a rapid transformation! Nelson was frankly astonished. He’d seen Lin Fei in many games—knew he was blazingly fast, deadly accurate, and explosively aggressive. Sometimes he’d even dish out assists. But he’d never imagined Lin Fei could change roles so swiftly. The player’s adaptability was simply beyond imagination. The thought brought a secret smile to Nelson’s lips—this kid truly was a talent worth developing.

Those two consecutive, brilliant assists boosted Lin Fei’s confidence. Assisting should be even easier than scoring. When I shoot, I have only one target—the basket, which everyone knows. But passing? I’ve got so many options.

Nelson had originally planned to play Lin Fei for half a quarter before subbing him out, since in the past, Lin Fei would dominate the ball—receiving, dribbling, and shooting all in one go. But tonight, he rarely held onto the ball, making crisp, decisive passes instead. In half a quarter, Lin Fei didn’t take a single shot but notched five assists! Was that some kind of record? Who could say.

At the end of the first quarter, as Lin Fei rested, Nelson patted him on the head. "Oh! Incredible! Your passing skills are truly impressive!"

Lin Fei grinned broadly. In the past, he’d never seriously considered focusing on passing, but now, feeling his own passing prowess, he was genuinely happy.

"I want to try being a pass-first guard," Lin Fei told Nelson.

"You can do it! But I think you should also try shooting sometimes!" Nelson replied.

Lin Fei smiled sheepishly. In truth, those five assists were partly out of spite. "You say I don’t pass? Fine, today I’ll only pass, no shooting—satisfied?" At first, there had been a hint of resentment, but now, the joy of assisting had washed it away. Whatever temper he’d nursed was long forgotten.

"Hey! How was that pass I made to you?" Lin Fei asked Cairns excitedly.

"Oh, I prefer alley-oops," Cairns joked.

"Really? You’re matched up against Kobe, you know!" Lin Fei exclaimed.

"Heh, ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of dunking on him."

"Alright! I’ll give you the chance!"

"Oh, you sure talk big!" Cairns laughed heartily—it was clearly a joke.

But Lin Fei only smiled faintly. To him, it wasn’t a joke.

Lin Fei brought the ball up and passed to Cairns, who immediately returned it. Both kept moving without pause.

Facing the tightest defense, Lin Fei deliberately spread out, weaving inside the three-point line like an eel, darting back and forth until he penetrated the paint. He kept dribbling, as if he owned the opposing key. But there was no shot opportunity—Gasol and Bynum had built an aerial wall before him. Lin Fei circled around, and as Gasol and Bynum adjusted, a gap opened. At that moment, Cairns and Kobe were wrestling near the free throw line. Lin Fei spun away; Kobe stepped in from the line, perhaps finally annoyed by Lin Fei’s antics under the rim—exactly what Lin Fei wanted. As Kobe shifted, Lin Fei whipped a pass through Gasol’s legs to Cairns. Seizing the chance, Cairns took three steps. Kobe, just turning to face the basket, could only watch as Cairns soared in with a tomahawk slam—"boom!"—stuffing the ball with ferocity, pinning Kobe beneath him.

The arena thundered.

What must Kobe be thinking now? The passage of time spares no one? Who could say.

And what did Lin Fei think? If I set my mind to something, I will make it happen.

He raised his hand toward the sky.