Chapter 118: I’ll Try to Score Less from Now On

"Next time."

Upon hearing this reply, the crowd erupted in cheers once again. It meant there would be a next time, and even more spectacular performances to look forward to. If any other player had said this, the fans might have scoffed. After all, is an eighty-point performance something you can just summon at will? But coming from He Xinghui, everyone felt compelled to believe it. Those who had doubted him before already felt the sting of a metaphorical slap to the face.

"Cool." The fans remarked, filled with emotion.

Other players, protective of their public image, were always cautious and rarely spoke so boldly. He Xinghui, by contrast, spoke with such nonchalant ease, showing no interest in padding his stats further when the opportunity arose. By comparison, he was truly cool.

Shortly after, He Xinghui left the court, and both teams pulled their starters, leaving the reserves to play out the final few minutes. On the Clippers' bench, laughter and joy filled the air. They had helped He Xinghui achieve his goal, which meant they could blackmail him for another round of favors. The Cavaliers' bench, however, was like a funeral procession; everyone looked grim. They couldn't help but worry about how the media would evaluate them after the game. It might even affect their market value.

James had already returned to the locker room before the game even finished. Remaining under the lens of the cameras was a form of torture for him. Yet, while he could escape for now, he could not avoid the post-game press conference. He was not the type to burn bridges with the media just to protect his own mood, so he dutifully endured his anger and showed up to face the journalists' barrage.

"LeBron, congratulations on putting up 35 points, 6 rebounds, and 6 assists."

As soon as the reporter spoke, James felt like crying. While 35 points was a high total, being congratulated for it under these circumstances sounded like mockery.

"No, I played terribly today. I hope to do better next time," James denied.

"LeBron, what is your take on the player He?" the reporter asked. Although framed as a question, it was essentially a request for James to offer some praise. After all, in this situation, no one could deny that He Xinghui was exceptional.

"He is an incredible player. His scoring ability is explosive. The sky is the limit for him." There was no choice; James had to offer insincere praise.

"LeBron, He said you don't deserve to wear the number 23 jersey. What do you think?" the reporter pressed.

"This is just He's trash talk, an attempt to get inside my head. In reality, he doesn't think that way. In my opinion, every player and every fan should be allowed to wear their idol's jersey..."

"So, were you affected by it?"

"..." James remained silent.

The reporters' questions were sharp, but James's answers were equally refined. After the interview, the journalists hadn't managed to make him lose his composure. By now, they were used to it. With James, you only ever got official, scripted responses; you would never learn his true thoughts or feelings. Therefore, the interview with He Xinghui was the main event.

The reporters saw James out and waited for the Clippers. This time, only He Xinghui appeared. Dunleavy had reasoned that no one ever asked him questions anyway, and this would be even more true today. With an 82-point game, there was only one focus.

He Xinghui sat down, and just as a reporter was about to start, He spoke first. The journalists could only silently endure it, learning to get used to a player who didn't follow the standard script.

He Xinghui scanned the room and said, "Where is my old friend Johnson? Why didn't he come? I wanted to give him the first question."

At this, some reporters burst into laughter. Before the game, Johnson had gone all out, publishing numerous articles attacking, mocking, and satirizing He Xinghui; he had become the number one "He-hater" in the basketball world. Johnson had been at the arena, waiting for He Xinghui to make a fool of himself. But before the game was over, he had left with a dark expression, abandoning the assignment his company had given him. There was no other choice; staying would only invite further humiliation. Most people couldn't handle that level of social catastrophe.

"He, Johnson has likely left. Why don't you give the opportunity to me?" Lucy smiled.

"Okay."

"He, I think all the fans are as curious as I am: did you have absolute confidence before the game started?" Lucy asked the question everyone cared about most. Scoring 82 points was shocking, but with Kobe's 81-point game as a precedent, people could eventually accept it. However, to announce beforehand that he would score 82 points and then actually do it was something beyond comprehension.

"Actually, I just said it casually. I didn't expect it to actually happen," He Xinghui smiled. Whether others believed him or not, he had successfully pulled off the bluff.

As soon as he finished, another reporter chimed in: "Have you considered that if you hadn't succeeded, you would have faced a lot of skepticism and criticism?"

"So what? You don't actually think I care about your skepticism, do you?" He Xinghui countered.

This response left the reporters feeling quite awkward. As the gatekeepers of public opinion, reporters were usually feared by stars, leading them to habitually assume that He Xinghui would care about their evaluations. Now, He Xinghui's words were like a splash of cold water, snapping them back to reality.

The remark stung. One reporter, feeling annoyed, retorted: "He, have you thought about how your reckless shooting disrupts the team's system, and that it might not be a good thing for the team?" It was as good as calling him a ball hog.

Everyone turned their gaze toward this reporter, eager to see if another hero was about to follow in Johnson's footsteps. He Xinghui replied: "You're right. In the future, I'll try to score fewer points."

"..." The reporters were speechless.

He Xinghui's words always sounded strange. What did he mean by "try to score fewer points"? Was he suggesting that not scoring was harder than scoring, and that it took effort to score less? Hearing this, everyone really wanted to punch him. As for the reporter who asked the question, he was even more unsettled. He tried to explain: "That's not what I meant..." If He Xinghui really did start scoring very little, his fans would likely drag the reporter out like a criminal. You couldn't reason with fans, so he had to avoid that blame at all costs.

Having witnessed the sharpness of He Xinghui's tongue, the subsequent questions from the reporters were much more mundane, focusing on his feelings and mood. Facing these, He Xinghui gave equally official responses. He was happy, thanked his teammates for their support, and thanked the coach for his trust—a masterclass in political maneuvering.

In the end, the press conference concluded in an unexpectedly harmonious atmosphere. It even made some reporters feel uneasy; under normal circumstances, a press conference with He Xinghui should have ended in a heated argument.