Chapter 160: The Scheme to Trap Kobe

February 19th, Sports News Express.

[He's Whimsical Ideas, an Unprecedented Rookie Challenge.]

In yesterday's Rookie Challenge, He used a subversive performance style to turn the game into a spectacle, transforming it into the effect of a comedy film.

Throughout the first half of the game, there was non-stop laughter. Every player was assigned a fresh and comical persona, such as Nate Robinson, the block king who only blocked his own teammates' shots, and the Magic Howard who loved long-range three-pointers...

The second half was incredibly exciting; fans paid for one ticket and received double the enjoyment...

[What are the Coaches' Criteria for Selecting Reserves?]

That He barely missed out on the main game is understandable; after all, Kobe and Nash possess unbeatable popularity. However, why did those coaches fail to select He when choosing the reserves?

Comparing statistics, He's scoring ranked eighth in the league.

Both Parker and Ray Allen, who made the reserves, had lower averages than him.

Comparing status, he was the primary option of his team.

Both Brand and Marion, who made the list, were still second options on their respective teams.

Comparing seniority, he was a rookie, which went without saying. However, if selection were based on seniority, Mutombo should have been the one selected.

In short, the coaches' criteria for selecting reserves remained as baffling as a riddle.

[Stern Should Have Made an Exception to Let He Participate in the All-Star Game; Stern Made a Mistake.]

[Upset in the Rookie Challenge, the Rookies Win, and He Captures the MVP.]

[He Drops More Golden Quotes in His Interview.]

...

The media reviews of He Xinghui were exceptionally high, praising his contribution to the Rookie Challenge, noting that he pioneered a new model and opened up a brand new door.

At the same time, some media outlets began to fight his corner, arguing that he should have been selected for the main game, while taking the opportunity to bash the league, Stern, and the coaches.

It wasn't personal; it was simply what the fans loved to read.

Flaying the league and the coaches at this moment catered to the fans' tastes and resonated with them.

Capitalizing on the fame generated by the Rookie Challenge, Reebok scheduled the release of his signature sneaker for the 19th.

His first signature shoe, the 'Xing Generation', officially debuted yesterday, and it was precisely what He Xinghui wore during the Rookie Challenge.

The most distinctive feature of this sneaker was the abundance of little stars painted on it; in other respects, it was pretty much the same as anyone else's shoes.

A pair of worn-out kicks couldn't offer many gimmicks. First generation, second generation, third generation—it was all just changing patterns on the exterior to fleece money.

Of course, if the fleecees could derive happiness from the experience, it almost seemed worth it.

In the end, the shoe company was happy, He Xinghui was happy, and the fans were happy.

In terms of boosting the total index of human happiness, it actually seemed pretty good.

In comparison, the Xing Generation was already quite flashy, with distinct North American and Chinese editions.

The North American version featured yellow as the main tone with red stars.

The Chinese version featured red as the main tone with yellow stars, and the number of stars was strictly limited to five.

This, once again, was the sentimental marketing ploy orchestrated by Zhao Liping and her team.

After completing the fan meet-and-greet and filming a couple of commercials along the way, the time arrived for the Three-Point Contest and the Slam Dunk Contest.

He Xinghui actually could have skipped them, but he chose to go and join in the fun anyway.

At the arena, he ran into Little Spud Nate Robinson, Andre Iguodala, J.R. Smith, and others.

"Nate, I bet a million dollars that you'll win the Slam Dunk Contest today. Care to wager?"

He Xinghui said.

"..."

Nate Robinson didn't know how to respond; he was enticed by the million dollars as much as he wanted the dunk contest trophy.

"Shit, you have that much faith in Nate?"

Iguodala expressed his dissent.

"Oh, sounds like you want to place a bet?"

He Xinghui smiled.

He remembered that Nate Robinson would win the slam dunk title in 2006; in fact, he even remembered that Nate would eventually win three slam dunk titles.

Although those three dunk titles were somewhat watered-down, standing at just five feet nine inches tall, it was truly a remarkable feat.

"I'm not as rich as you."

Iguodala said with a wry smile.

One million dollars was still a massive sum to him.

"He, why aren't you participating in the Slam Dunk Contest?"

Nate asked casually, and the others awaited He Xinghui's answer out of curiosity.

"I'm just giving you guys a chance. If I entered, would there even be any glory left for you? So, work hard; this is your only chance this year."

He Xinghui said.

"Shit."

The group collectively raised their middle fingers at him.

"Nate, after you finish your dunks, we can do a performance together."

He Xinghui looped his arm around the little spud, and the two discussed a plan to please the fans.

Shortly after, the Three-Point Contest commenced.

The participating stars included Ray Allen, Gilbert Arenas, Dirk Nowitzki, Jason Terry, Chauncey Billups, and Quentin Richardson—a truly dazzling lineup.

Upon entering the arena, He Xinghui walked over to the cluster of players that included Kobe, James, and Paul.

Watching the game with rivals was sometimes much more interesting than watching with friends; it gave you the chance to tease and taunt them.

"Come on, step right up and place your bets. I'm betting Dirk wins the Three-Point Contest."

He Xinghui clapped his hands, summoning the group.

"Oh, what's the stake?"

Kobe asked. While he wasn't particularly fond of gambling, the prospect of an opportunity to beat He Xinghui greatly interested him.

Winning wasn't even the primary goal; it was the sheer feeling of being able to gloat over He Xinghui afterward.

"How about the loser has to play a whole game wearing a skirt?"

He Xinghui said.

"Ew... yuck..."

The group let out sounds of disgust.

"Please, can we bet on something a bit more refined and original?"

Kobe complained. He couldn't even bear to imagine the visual of playing basketball in a skirt.

"Aside from that, I really can't think of anything interesting to wager. After all, I'm not short on cash, and winning a little pocket change from you guys is pointless."

He Xinghui said.

"Shit."

Another player voiced a protest. He Xinghui's remark was just too punchable, making it sound as though his victory was already set in stone.

Furthermore, this casual display of wealth left players who hadn't yet made their big fortunes feeling thoroughly depressed.

"How about this: the loser has to tie the other person's shoelaces before the start of the next game."

Kobe smiled mischievously.

He figured that if he could make He Xinghui tie his shoelaces in front of the cameras, the feeling would be absolute perfection.

"Whoa."

The group gasped; Kobe was playing for high stakes here.

For a fringe role player, tying someone else's shoelaces was no big deal.

However, for megastars like Kobe and He Xinghui, kneeling to tie an opponent's shoelaces in public was equivalent to lowering oneself beneath the other, dealing a heavy blow to one's public image.

It might even cost them millions of fans.

All eyes turned to He Xinghui, eager to see whether he would accept the challenge.

Backing down would be humiliating, but accepting carried enormous risks.

"No problem, LeBron, what about you?"

With Kobe on board, He Xinghui felt it wasn't enough and wanted to trap James into it as well.

"No, no, no, He, you know me; I'm not a gambling man. I can act as your witness."

James hurriedly declined; he had no desire to put his image in jeopardy.

"What about the rest of you? Anyone else joining?"

He Xinghui asked.

"Me."

Odom decided to join the fun.

"And the rest of you? Are you all cowards?"

He Xinghui asked.

"..."

The group desperately wanted to clarify that this had nothing to do with being cowardly or brave.

Afterward, the three of them each selected the contestant they backed.

He Xinghui chose Dirk Nowitzki, knowing that barring any unforeseen circumstances, Nowitzki was a lock to win.

Kobe chose Gilbert Arenas, driven purely by personal preference; after their recent scoring duel, he believed Arenas was immensely formidable.

Odom chose Quentin Richardson because he was the defending three-point champion.

Jason Terry went first, posting 10 points and injecting some comic relief for the audience.

When Quentin took the floor, Odom cheered him on excitedly.

Living up to expectations, Quentin tallied 20 points, which should have been enough to secure a spot in the finals.

Sure enough, the performance of the three-point shooters in this edition was generally mediocre.

Ultimately, the players advancing to the finals were precisely Quentin, Arenas, and Nowitzki.

James, Paul, and the others couldn't help giving He Xinghui and the other two a thumbs-up—their reads had been dead accurate.

With the suspense carried over to the finals, James and the rest grew visibly excited.

Quentin went first, but his performance fell apart this time, managing only 15 points.

"Hahaha, Lamar, are you ready? Starting tomorrow, I'm never washing my shoes again."

He Xinghui laughed heartily.

"..."

The crowd was speechless; the unwashed shoe tactic was something none of them had anticipated.

"You can do that?!"

Odom looked like he wanted to cry.

"Don't celebrate too early; it might not be you who has to tie them."

Kobe retorted.

Next up, Nowitzki took the court and put up 18 points.

"Hahahahaha..."

This time it was Kobe's turn to burst into laughter. Eighteen points could hardly be considered high; as long as Arenas maintained his shooting touch from the first round, victory was assured.

The cameras captured Kobe patting He Xinghui on the shoulder and laughing heartily, sparking endless speculation among fans, who were dying to know what could possibly make the usually stoic Kobe laugh so happily.

"Kobe, don't celebrate too early. The higher the hope, the greater the disappointment usually is."

He Xinghui muttered.

While he sounded relaxed on the outside, on the inside he was panicking like mad. He couldn't remember the exact winning score of this year's three-point contest and had no idea if Nowitzki's score constituted a meltdown.

Consequently, his mind was already racing on how to welch on the bet.

Tying Kobe's shoelaces in front of everyone? Forget about it.

Arenas stepped up to the line.

Clang, clang, clang.

The sound of those bricks hitting the rim felt like heavy hammer blows landing on Kobe's chest, making him ache to the point of wanting to vomit blood.

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant, Kobe. If you really wanted to win, you shouldn't have secretly handed him your skill set."

He Xinghui gloated from the sidelines while taking a jab at Kobe.

In the end, Arenas finished with 16 points, crowning Nowitzki the champion.

Kobe's expression instantly darkened, while He Xinghui strutted around in triumph nearby.

And this scene was once again captured by the cameras.

There was simply no help for it; their cluster of stars was the most dazzling in the building, drawing the most attention from the cameramen.

Once again, fans were consumed by curiosity about what on earth had transpired over there.

"Let's make another wager—bet on who takes the slam dunk crown."

Kobe entered full "see you after school" mode; he was determined to keep gambling until he won.

"No, no, no. The best way to beat someone is to defeat them once and then never play them again."

He Xinghui said.

"That's shameless! In gambling, there's no such thing as winning and running away; we have to fight until dawn."

Kobe said.

"I am shameless, and I don't care. If we're going to bet again, you'll have to settle our current debt first."

He Xinghui laughed.

Although he could probably win another bet against Kobe regarding the dunk contest, there was no need. Even if he won, Kobe would just demand another double-or-nothing.

If he won too much, Kobe might actually renege.

Right now, the timing was just right.

"..."

Kobe was speechless.

Following the Three-Point Contest came the Slam Dunk Contest, an event that used to boast astronomical television ratings.

However, ever since the legendary 2000 Slam Dunk Contest, audience expectations had been set impossibly high, while subsequent participants consistently underperformed and failed to satisfy those lofty demands.

Consequently, by this point, the Slam Dunk Contest wasn't quite as magnetic as it used to be.

Of course, relatively speaking; right there in the arena, He Xinghui still saw seats packed to capacity.

Hafiz Abdul Hakim Warrick was the first to take the court—the Grizzlies' 19th overall pick from the previous year. He was largely anonymous in the league, and perhaps even some Grizzlies fans didn't even recognize him.

Warrick strapped on a headband, sprinted toward the basket with the ball, and threw down a basic dunk.

This move fully showcased his massive hands, as he secured the ball firmly.

Aside from that, there was nothing else to speak of.

Vince Carter, lurking in the corner, let out a mischievous chuckle.

Several other stars couldn't help breaking into smiles either.

Next up was J.R. Smith, who started dribbling the ball from the baseline of the opposite half-court, though nobody knew why he felt the need to run from so far away.

Even more absurdly, by the time he reached the half-court logo, he lost control of the ball, forcing him to clumsily chase after it and trot all the way back to the baseline to start over.

An NBA player turning the ball over while simply dribbling was utterly ridiculous.

He Xinghui immediately covered his mouth with both hands, adopting an expression that screamed, 'I am not allowed to laugh.'

To make matters worse, the cameras captured that exact moment.

On his second attempt, Smith finally succeeded, sprinting in and taking off from the free-throw line.

That in itself was commendable.

Regrettably, that was the extent of it—he simply dunked from the free-throw line with zero additional flourish or creative flair.

In Jordan's era, that dunk would have passed muster.

By current standards, however, it was hopelessly outdated.

41 points was the score evaluated for Smith.

Nate Robinson took the floor and, riding on sympathy votes generated by his height, managed to pull off 49 points.

Yet, judging purely by the mechanics of his dunk, it was by no means worth a 49.

This year's slam dunk contest was truly a tough watch.

It wasn't until Iguodala's second dunk that He Xinghui finally bothered to applaud.

Iguodala charged in from behind the backboard, caught a lob thrown by Allen Iverson, and used his immense wingspan to wrap the ball around the backboard before slamming it home.

As the ball went through, his face practically brushed against the backboard.

This sequence tested a player's psychological composure and technique to the extreme.

Unfortunately, Iguodala executed this masterpiece in the preliminary round—a strategic misstep.

Propelled by that single dunk, he and Nate Robinson advanced to the finals.

And then, those two fellows proceeded to 'torture' the audience during the finals.

While they weren't doing it on purpose, their execution was simply lacking.

Nate Robinson flubbed a single dunk attempt over a dozen times, sending the commentators into fits of laughter bordering on asphyxiation, before he finally managed to scrape it together.

Even more absurdly, the judges proceeded to hand out high scores across the board.

As for Iguodala, devoid of any fresh creativity, his final dunk was a between-the-legs tomahawk.

Worse still, he botched the initial attempt.

Ultimately, the judges awarded the victory to Nate Robinson.

The arena fell flat into an awkward silence; there were no screams, no cheers, not even jeers—the atmosphere plunged into an intensely uncomfortable void.

Of course, the audience couldn't be blamed.

They had arrived full of anticipation, only to sit around for the better part of a day and witness such a dismal spectacle; how could anyone feel good about that?

Their disappointment was profound.

Nate Robinson's expression darkened noticeably.

At that moment, Nate suddenly recalled his plan with He Xinghui and rushed to snatch the microphone from a staff member.

Perhaps this little scheme could offer some form of compensation to the fans.

Nate Robinson sighed internally.

Then, he spoke into the mic: "To reward the fans, I'm going to perform one extra dunk—a transformation dunk."

Hearing the first half of his sentence, the crowd was on the verge of booing.

However, upon hearing the word "transformation," their curiosity was instantly re-ignited.

What kind of transformation? Did he think he was a Transformer?

Just as the spectators were filled with bewilderment, a phone booth-like prop was wheeled onto the hardwood.

Nate Robinson stepped inside the telephone booth; American audiences immediately grasped the reference—Superman changed inside a telephone booth, pulling his shorts over his tights to complete his transformation before rushing out to save lives.

When the 'transformed' figure emerged from the booth, the crowd was suddenly stunned, erupting into shrieks of excitement.

They discovered that Nate had transformed into He Xinghui, clad in a full Superman outfit.

"Oh, what a flamboyant transformation! Let's see who we have here, it's our absolute favorite He-He-He-He-He-He..."

The arena DJ scrambled to salvage the moment.

The crowd screamed and went wild.

Following yesterday's masterclass, He Xinghui's popularity was currently unmatched.

The fans never imagined they would get to witness He Xinghui throw down a dunk at this All-Star weekend.

Underneath the basket, the mascot was holding a basketball aloft as He Xinghui charged forward in his Superman costume.

What he intended to perform was Aaron Gordon's legendary dunk.

Dashing toward the mascot, He Xinghui leaped into the air with his legs tucked, grabbed the ball with his left hand, passed it underneath his buttocks to switch hands, and while soaring entirely over the mascot, hammered it home with a right-handed windmill.

This move might not have possessed the utmost difficulty, but its visual appeal was off the charts.

The sheer athleticism and artistry left onlookers utterly breathless.

"Oh my god, what just happened?"

Barkley's jaw dropped, Kobe's jaw dropped, James furrowed his brow, Nate's jaw dropped, and the entire audience dropped their jaws...

Immediately afterward, wave upon wave of deafening screams and cheers erupted.

At the exact moment of their deepest disappointment, one man had stepped forward to deliver a stunning surprise, making every cent of their ticket price worthwhile.

That sensation of snatching joy from the jaws of disappointment felt even better than finding money on the street.

The judges raised their ten-point paddles high into the air, fully expressing their admiration.

Nate Robinson leaped directly onto He Xinghui's back in celebration.

Though he had been upstaged, he felt no lingering bitterness; he infinitely preferred this triumphant ending to the cold, awkward silence of moments before.

Ultimately, the Slam Dunk Contest trophy still belonged to Nate Robinson.

However, the next day's newspapers were once again entirely monopolized by He Xinghui.

[The Man Who Saved the Slam Dunk Contest.]

[He Should Have Participated in the Dunk Contest.]

[A Stunning Slam: The 'Load-Managing' He Possesses Infinite Energy Within.]

...