After winning Game 2, many experts now placed the Knicks' chances of winning the championship above seventy percent.
In his post-game interview, Lin Yi remained characteristically understated.
Character might be invisible, but Lin Yi believed it mattered. Rebirth and the system had taught him that some things in this world still lay beyond what science could fully explain.
Reporters asked the usual questions, including what it was like facing Tim Duncan.
"Tim is a great player and someone I've looked up to," Lin Yi said simply. He kept his comments brief. Duncan had earned legendary status, and Lin Yi had no interest in the kind of empty praise that felt more like marketing than sincerity.
When asked about the Finals series, Lin Yi answered calmly: "The goal is to win four games. That's what success looks like."
The NBA had seen plenty of comebacks. Reaching the Finals was an achievement, but it was the ring that counted. Anything less would feel unfinished.
The reporters left disappointed. They had hoped for stronger headlines, but Lin Yi offered little to work with.
The media also spoke with Cristiano Ronaldo, who had attended the game as Lin Yi's guest. Ronaldo remained a major name in global sports. On Twitter follower counts, he sat in first place, slightly above Lin Yi.
"I'm really happy Lin invited me to watch the NBA Finals," Ronaldo told reporters. "He's an incredible player, and I believe the Knicks will win the championship this year."
He also mentioned that he and Lin Yi had exchanged training methods and even a few nutritional recipes, noting that some of Lin Yi's approaches could benefit him as well.
Two training junkies, the media noted down.
Reading the interview later, Lin Yi smiled to himself.
When Cristiano remains young in a few years, will people give me any credit for that? he thought. He was only half-joking.
Without Ronaldo's early exit from that future European Championship final due to injury, one might almost suspect he had a system of his own. How else could someone keep improving past thirty?
These had been tough years for Ronaldo's fans, but Messi's supporters—currently enjoying their peak—had no idea what was coming.
. . .
The morning sun filters through the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the living room where Lin Yi closes his suitcase one last time.
Game 2's victory still buzzes in his veins – Knicks up 2-0 against the Spurs – but now it's wheels up to San Antonio for Game 3 on the 12th.
Elizabeth stands nearby, her silk robe loosely tied, her large globes with the curve of her pregnant belly more pronounced under the fabric. She holds a pastel-blue box tied with a ribbon, her eyes sparkling with that mix of playfulness and deep love that always undoes him.
Lin sits on his luggage, pulling her into his arms first. His hands slide around her waist, one palm settling protectively over her belly, feeling the subtle warmth of their growing child. He nuzzles her neck, inhaling her scent – tropically sweet.
"Baby, you're glowing. Makes leaving hurt more."
She melts against him, tilting her head to press soft, lingering kisses along his jaw. Her fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently to guide his mouth to hers. Their lips meet slowly and deeply, tongues sliding together in unhurried strokes, wet and tender.
She sighs into the kiss, her free hand tracing down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his shirt.
"I hate these trips too, but you'll crush them. Come back to us with another win and a trophy." Her voice is husky, laced with affection as she rocks her hips forward, pressing her belly and the pussy against his growing bulge.
He groans low, hands roaming up her back, then down to cup her ass, squeezing the soft flesh through the robe. Fabric parts easily; his fingers dip between her legs, finding her pussy already slick.
He strokes her folds gently, thumb circling her clit in lazy loops while she whimpers, kissing him harder – sloppy, open-mouthed, sucking his tongue like she can't get enough.
"Liz... fuck, you're soaked. Want me to eat you before I go?"
She laughs breathy, pulling back just enough to hand him the cake box, but keeps her body flush to his.
"Later, champ. First, this." Her eyes dance mischievously. "One piece per day. I've cast a spell on them – eat two, and our baby zaps you."
She places his hand back on her belly, covering it with hers, their fingers interlacing.
Lin chuckles as he glances at the box – perfectly portioned to last through Game 5.
"Huh. Don't believe in the boys and I to get it done in four games." Lin said.
"I'm not that evil." Liz's eyes twinkled in mischief, "I got to give the Spurs one win for a Finals participation."
"How evilly sweet of you."
Lin said, laughing before setting the box aside, drawing her closer for another kiss, this one slower.
His lips trail to her forehead, then her cheeks, peppering feather-light kisses while murmuring, "I swear, one piece a day. For you. For our little one. You're my good luck charm, Liz. Every bucket, every assist – it's all for getting home to this."
He kneels suddenly, pressing his lips to her belly in a series of soft, adoring kisses through the robe. She threads fingers in his hair, cooing softly, her thighs parting instinctively as arousal builds.
Standing, he pulls her into a tight embrace, their hearts thumping together. She wraps her arms around his neck, legs hooking around his waist as he lifts her effortlessly. They sway like that, kissing deep again – tongues tangling, breaths mingling, her robe falling open fully to bare her swollen breasts.
Nipples brush his chest; he captures one in his mouth, sucking gently, tongue flicking the peak while she arches, moaning his name. "Lin... love you so much. Be safe. Dominate them."
His cock strains against his jeans, grinding up into her wetness, but he sets her down reluctantly, hands lingering on her hips.
"Love you more. Can't wait to bury myself in you after the win."
They had one last kiss before he grabbed his suitcase and the cake box, stealing a final pat to her ass.
With Elizabeth's well wishes, Lin Yi and his teammates boarded the Knicks' luxury charter flight to San Antonio.
Curry, Griffin, DeRozan, and others planned to fly in later to cheer them on.
As for Harden, Lin Yi figured he might stay in New York for the rest of the year. If the Rockets ever reached the Finals against them, the simplest strategy would probably be giving Klay a stack of VIP passes to New York's best nightclubs.
. . .
With the series at this stage, praise for the Knicks poured in, but attention also turned to how the Spurs might adjust. Many neutral fans hoped for a longer, competitive series rather than a quick sweep.
Back in San Antonio, Coach Popovich was in playful form during his own press conference. He looked at one reporter with an exaggeratedly innocent expression and asked, "Aren't you going to ask me anything?"
The reporter sighed. "Come on, Coach. We both know you won't say anything useful."
Popovich chuckled. "How do you know if you don't ask?"
The reporter reluctantly tried again: "Coach, what adjustments are you planning for Game 3?"
Popovich nodded, hummed thoughtfully, and then stared at the reporter in silence for a good ten seconds.
The reporter could only stare back in disbelief. It was a small mercy that no one threw a shoe at him. When it came to teasing the media, Popovich had few equals.
Coincidentally, upon arriving in San Antonio on the 10th, Lin Yi told reporters, "Our tactics for Game 3 are simple: pass, move, and shoot."
One reporter muttered under his breath, "You've got to be kidding me."
It almost sounded like the two men had coordinated.
Lin Yi was genuinely telling the truth, yet the reporters looked ready to pull their hair out. How were they supposed to file meaningful stories when both the old master and the young star gave them almost nothing to use?
In the end, Chinese and American outlets turned their writers into makeshift tactical analysts. Speculative reports flooded out before Game 3.
. . .
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