Chapter Forty: Famous Quotes

On the 23rd, the Clippers flew to Houston for an away game against the Rockets.

In the original timeline, the Clippers were supposed to play the Hornets that day.

But in this timeline, the schedule had changed somewhat.

However, He Xinghui didn’t pay much attention to it. If a butterfly in the Amazon could stir a hurricane in North Carolina with a flap of its wings, then his own time-traveling influence on the schedule was hardly excessive.

Perhaps, simply because this timeline now included him, Stern had deliberately arranged this “China Derby” before the Christmas showdown to warm things up.

At this moment, Bater had already returned to China, Wang Zhizhi had been let go by the Heat before the season, and Yi Jianlian had yet to join the league.

Still fighting in the NBA were only He Xinghui and Yao Ming.

This derby was highly valued in China, and the authoritative duo of Zhang He and Sun Zhengping had been sent early to cover the game live.

Conveniently, after airing this match, they’d broadcast the Christmas game a couple days later.

Upon arriving in Houston, He Xinghui left the team to visit Yao Ming’s home.

On one hand, it was a gathering of compatriots; on the other, he was there to be interviewed by Zhang He and Sun Zhengping.

He Xinghui had gone abroad before gaining much fame, so Chinese fans knew little about him. A conversation was needed to let fans get to know him.

The interview was relaxed, as casual as a few old friends chatting on the sofa.

The only difference was the presence of a camera.

“I’m from Shaoguan, born into an ordinary family, and transferred to an American high school...” He Xinghui introduced his basic background.

Ordinary family?

Zhang He wiped his brow anxiously.

A family able to send their child abroad for study at the turn of the century—how ordinary could that be? At least, financially, there was nothing ordinary about it.

“What month of ’86 were you born, Xinghui?” Sun Zhengping asked.

“December 2nd,” He Xinghui replied.

“Wow, so you’ve just turned nineteen—not long ago. That makes you the youngest player from our country to enter the NBA.” Even Yao Ming couldn’t help but feel envious.

He had been twenty-two when he entered the NBA, missing the prime years for growth.

“Xinghui, your start in the NBA has been very successful. Do you have any advice to share with players back home?” Zhang He asked.

Wang Zhizhi and Bater were talented, but their NBA careers had been less than satisfactory.

“Hmm...” He Xinghui paused, then continued, “I think that when you first enter the league, you can’t expect immediate success. In your first season, don’t aim too high—maybe set a small goal, like averaging twenty points a game.”

Experience in the NBA—He Xinghui certainly knew a few things.

But this kind of experience isn’t something people can simply learn by being told; it’s closely tied to personality.

Those shy guys know that chasing girls requires persistence, but their personalities just won’t allow it.

So, He Xinghui didn’t have much to share and could only quietly put on airs.

“...” The two middle-aged men were dumbfounded. Used to serious dialogue, they couldn’t keep up with He Xinghui’s rhythm.

He Xinghui, from an ordinary family, has a “small goal” of averaging twenty points—is that even reasonable?

Yao Ming, meanwhile, laughed so hard he could have been an internet meme.

“Xinghui signed a seven-year, ninety-five million dollar contract at age nineteen. He must be the youngest billionaire from our country, and it’s earned by his own ability, not inheritance.” Sun Zhengping shifted the topic, since sharing experience was going nowhere.

Chinese fans were not only interested in He Xinghui’s performance, but also in his endorsement deals.

Ninety-five million dollars—over seven hundred million yuan.

Given the current situation back home, ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of people would never earn that much in a lifetime.

“That money isn’t easy to get; there are many conditions to be met. And after taxes, it’s not actually that much,” Yao Ming said.

He worried that people would grow jealous of He Xinghui’s income and try to freeload off him, causing unpleasantness.

With He Xinghui’s personality, he wasn’t someone easy to deal with.

“What are those conditions?” Sun Zhengping asked.

“To get it, you have to win the scoring title, regular season MVP, championship, Finals MVP, and so on,” He Xinghui replied.

“Wow, that’s really not easy. The people at Reebok are quite shrewd,” Zhang He remarked.

“Well, it’s not that hard for me. For me, winning MVP isn’t a question of ‘if,’ but ‘how many.’ Besides, I’m not really interested in money; I chose Reebok mainly to challenge Nike’s leadership,” He Xinghui said.

“...” Zhang He and Sun Zhengping could only stare.

In just a few minutes, He Xinghui had left Zhang He and Sun Zhengping speechless several times.

They realized He Xinghui was extremely unconventional—no hint of seriousness—and very different from Yao Ming’s personality.

They could only attribute it to He Xinghui’s youth and lack of maturity.

“Tell us about your daily life. Everyone’s curious what you do,” Sun Zhengping asked.

“I sing in my mansion, dance in nightclubs, flirt with girls on campus—my life is just that simple and unadorned,” He Xinghui replied.

“...” Zhang He felt the conversation was impossible to continue.

“Xinghui, young, rich, and handsome—you must be popular with the ladies,” Sun Zhengping teased.

“I care about personality when choosing a girlfriend. Actually, I have face blindness and can’t really distinguish beauty. These are a few of my ex-girlfriends—I don’t even know if they’re pretty,” He Xinghui said, showing them his phone with photos of several stunning women.

Zhang He and Sun Zhengping, both old-timers, felt awkward looking.

“You say you just sing and dance—what about training? Playing in the NBA must require constant practice,” Sun Zhengping redirected the topic.

“Occasionally. My biggest regret is joining the NBA—my real dream was to be an actor,” He Xinghui said.

“...” How reckless.

Zhang He felt the interview had been too hasty. Had he known, he would have researched He Xinghui more beforehand, instead of being so passive now.

They chatted a bit more before wrapping up the interview quickly.

Though brief, it was packed with substance.

“Zhang, should we edit this footage before airing?” Sun Zhengping asked.

Ordinary family, small goals, uninterested in money, uncertain about women, regrets playing basketball—if this kind of unserious talk went public, who knew how fans would react?

“How can we edit it? He only said one thing that could be considered sensible. If we edit, we might end up with less than a minute left,” Zhang He complained.

“So should we just air it as is?”

“Yes. Times have changed, now young people value individuality. These bold statements might be exactly what the younger generation likes,” Zhang He decided not to cut a thing. He’d seen enough to know that He Xinghui didn’t care about controversy at all.