Chapter Forty-Two: Facing Off Against McGrady

Where am I? What just happened? The Rockets players stood stunned for several seconds.

They’d seen their share of lightning-quick scores, but those usually came as last-second buzzer-beaters, not someone hurling a half-court shot right at the tip-off. That was sheer recklessness.

Even more outrageous—it actually went in.

When he snapped out of it, McGrady felt a wave of irritation. He realized that He Xinghui’s shot would inevitably make its way into the highlight reels once again.

The Rockets had already begun inbounding the ball, but the commentators were still marveling at He Xinghui’s basket.

“This must be the fastest opening score in NBA history,” Zhang He-Li exclaimed, his mouth agape. Soccer had its records for fastest goals, but the NBA didn’t track such things. Even so, Zhang was certain—no one had ever done what He Xinghui had just done. After all, who else would fling a wild shot like that right from the start?

“I have to say, A-Xing’s composure is really something else,” Sun Zhengping commented with sincere admiration. Someone lacking in mental toughness wouldn’t dare spin such tall tales during interviews, let alone pull off a stunt like this on the court.

“It looks like A-Xing’s status on the Clippers is pretty secure. Ordinary role players wouldn’t dare act so recklessly,” Zhang He-Li added.

Meanwhile, across the vast expanse of China, cheers erupted from tens of thousands of viewers in front of their televisions.

There was only one way to describe that shot—unbelievable.

“Look at Xing-Ge, acting like it’s nothing at all—damn, that’s cool.”

“Snatching the general’s head from amidst a million troops—this must be what that kind of swagger feels like.”

“Yao, give us a response!”

As if answering the fans’ call, Yao Ming did the unexpected and launched a shot from beyond the three-point line.

It went in, too.

Once again, shouts erupted from the small shops where fans crowded around TVs. The shopkeepers were not amused. If these guys hadn’t at least bought some sunflower seeds and drinks, he might have just turned the TV off.

“Your countryman doesn’t play by the rules—a center shooting threes? Am I supposed to guard him out there too?” Kaman grumbled. If Yao played like this the whole game, he’d be ready to call the cops. With Yao’s size, having to guard both the paint and the perimeter was a nightmare—he might as well be shot.

After those two absurd shots, the game finally settled into its normal rhythm.

The fans watching finally breathed a sigh of relief. If He Xinghui and Yao Ming kept up that pace all game, everyone would lose their minds.

Clippers ball. He Xinghui, facing McGrady, pulled up for a three-pointer—and nailed it.

“Yeah!” He Xinghui pumped his fist and roared.

This was the thrill of A-level skill.

That game against the Hornets had been a windfall—he’d finally accumulated 2,000 anger points. Before this match, he’d upgraded his three-point shooting to A-level, his only A-level attribute so far.

This…

Zhang He-Li was at a loss for words. That gorgeous half-court three to start the game—He Xinghui had looked so nonchalant. Now, after a fairly routine shot, he was all fired up, which left Zhang utterly confused.

None of this made any sense.

“A-Xing, I’m getting old—don’t put me through this,” Zhang lamented inwardly. Commentating on a player with such unpredictable behavior was no easy task.

On the court, after sinking the shot, He Xinghui didn’t forget to throw some trash talk.

“Six to zero,” he remarked casually, enough to seriously annoy McGrady.

As a former scoring champion, losing an offensive duel to a rookie was a blow to the ego.

McGrady called for the ball, shuffled his feet, and then pulled up for a jumper.

Everyone seemed to have the hot hand at the start—McGrady’s shot went in.

“I score as many points as I feel like,” McGrady declared.

“Tracy, you know what frustrates a team’s star the most? It’s not having teammates who can’t keep up. But do you know what’s even worse?” He Xinghui continued his friendly banter.

Before the game, McGrady had already warned himself: ignore He Xinghui’s trash talk. But now, curiosity got the better of him. After all, his time with the Magic had been defined by teammates who just couldn’t deliver. He wanted to know—what could be more frustrating than that?

He Xinghui went on, “The worst is when your teammates are so good, they take your place as the team’s core.”

“Your game is declining, Yao is getting better, and you’re already second fiddle. It won’t be long before the Rockets cast you aside. How is it that you’ve experienced every single nightmare a franchise player can face?”

He Xinghui almost burst out laughing. He wasn’t making this up—McGrady’s prime had been in Orlando, surrounded by CBA-level teammates. Just as he finally found reliable teammates, his own play nosedived.

Compared to Kobe, McGrady’s story was truly tragic. Kobe won championships alongside the Big Shaq during his formative years, then grew into a leader and pushed Shaq out, becoming king himself—unbelievably lucky.

“Get lost—you have no right to judge my career,” McGrady snapped.

Still, McGrady was McGrady. Even irritated, it didn’t affect his game. He shook off He Xinghui, received a pass from Alston, jumped, shot—missed.

For a moment, there was a certain fluid beauty to his movement—if only the ball had gone in. Since it didn’t, it was just awkward and comical.

Possession switched. He Xinghui, ball in hand, feigned a drive. With McGrady focused on stopping the penetration, He Xinghui pulled off a move rare in this era—a step-back jumper.

He was lucky—the shot swished through the net again.

“I heard you worked hard on defense because you couldn’t get playing time in Toronto?” He Xinghui grinned. That infuriating smile made people want to punch him.

Toronto had been McGrady’s darkest days. To gain the coach’s trust, he’d had to start with the dirty work, and his defense had been excellent. But as the Magic’s core, he’d needed to focus on offense, and his defense declined sharply. Like Leonard ten years later—when you become the team’s focal point, your defensive impact inevitably drops. Not everyone could be as relentless as Kobe, dominating both ends.

Reminded of his struggles and mocked for his hard-earned defense, McGrady could only respond with a mid-range jumper.

“Nice, you managed to help your team fall behind by a point this possession,” He Xinghui chuckled.

The score had been tied—He Xinghui hit a three, McGrady answered with two. In that single possession, the Rockets clearly got the worse of it.

“Tracy, don’t listen to him—your shot was great,” Yao Ming said, noticing McGrady’s mood was off. He went over to offer encouragement, and also gained a clearer understanding of just how sharp He Xinghui’s trash talk could be.

It was truly powerful. Even though the whole team knew in advance not to pay attention to He Xinghui’s words, it was much harder to ignore them in the heat of play.

At that moment, Yao was thankful he played center. If he had to match up against He Xinghui for extended stretches, he wasn’t sure he could take it either.