Chapter 38: Grievances Across the Pacific
The ringtone of a video call request sounded somewhat piercing in the quiet apartment.
Lin Feng looked at the jumping rabbit avatar on the screen and the two words below it.
Yinna.
His fingertips hovered over the screen for a moment before finally swiping to connect.
The screen lit up, and a slightly haggard Eastern face appeared in the frame.
Yinna's hair was still a bit damp, clearly having just finished a high-intensity training session. Her makeup was slightly smudged, but her cold, elegant beauty was not diminished in the slightest.
Her background was a brightly lit practice room, with a layer of mist covering the mirrors.
Seeing Lin Feng's face, she forced a smile and spoke first in Chinese.
"Congratulations, you won again."
Her voice carried a hint of fatigue that was hard to detect.
"Yeah," Lin Feng leaned back on the sofa, making himself look relaxed. "It's just a regular-season game."
"It's not as simple as just a regular-season game," Yinna's tone became more serious. "I saw the news. Everyone is saying that pass of yours was historic. You're a hero in Los Angeles now."
"The media likes to exaggerate," Lin Feng smiled.
Looking at the girl on the screen, he asked with concern, "It must be very late over there, right? Why haven't you rested yet?"
"I just finished practice," Yinna subconsciously adjusted her bangs, her eyes flickering away.
"Don't overwork yourself. Take care of your health."
"Yeah, I know."
After a few routine greetings, a brief silence fell over the video call.
Only the faint sounds of other members' practice slogans could be heard from the practice room.
Yinna bit her lower lip, seemingly making a difficult decision.
Finally, as if she had made up her mind, she spoke as if casually.
"I... saw some news on the internet today..."
Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained a calm expression.
"Oh? What news?"
Yinna didn't speak. She brought over her tablet and adjusted the angle so the camera was pointed at the screen.
On the screen was exactly that gossip report from TMZ.
A close-up of Taylor Swift's profile in the VIP seats and the blurry back of the number 1 jersey in the distance formed a very storytelling image.
[The Diva's New Prey? The Lakers' oriental sharpshooter, Lin Feng!]
The glaring headline was presented right before Lin Feng's eyes.
Yinna moved the tablet away and looked back at Lin Feng.
Her voice was very soft, carrying an unmistakable tremor and grievance.
"She... is an amazing singer, isn't she?"
"Do you two... know each other?"
This question was like a tiny needle crossing the Pacific, accurately pricking Lin Feng's heart.
He saw the unease in her eyes, that panic of fear of loss that she was trying hard to suppress.
Lin Feng didn't answer immediately.
He just looked at her quietly, and then revealed a gentle and frank smile.
"Yinna."
He called her name.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think a rookie who has only played a dozen games would have the chance to know a diva of that level?"
His tone was very relaxed, as if he were telling a joke.
Yinna was stunned for a moment and subconsciously shook her head.
Lin Feng continued, "Los Angeles is just like that. There are all kinds of celebrities watching games at Staples Center every day."
"They sit courtside, reporters take photos, and then they can make up a hundred different stories."
"Yesterday it was her, tomorrow it might be Anne Hathaway, and the day after it could be Scarlett Johansson."
"It's just a tactic for the media to grab attention. You don't need to take it to heart."
His explanation was reasonable, and his tone was sincere with a hint of self-deprecation.
He cleverly placed himself in an 'unworthy' position, perfectly avoiding the core fact of the 'text messages,' and only emphasized the huge gap in their status and the partial truth of 'no private meeting.'
Yinna listened quietly, the panic in her eyes gradually calming under Lin Feng's gentle words.
But that grievance still hung on her brow.
She whispered, "But... the way she looked at you was different."
A woman's intuition is sometimes sharper than any evidence.
Lin Feng's heart tightened, knowing he had to give her a reassuring pill.
He put away his smile, and his expression became exceptionally serious.
"Yinna, look at me."
Yinna looked up, meeting his focused gaze.
"I promise you, there is nothing between her and me."
"Those news reports are all fake, just catching at shadows."
"To me, those unattainable superstars are far less real than the sweat you shed in the practice room."
After saying this, he felt it wasn't enough.
He needed a more powerful promise to completely shatter the unease in her heart.
Lin Feng looked at her and spoke solemnly.
"During the All-Star Weekend, the NBA will have a short break."
"At that time, I'll take leave and fly to Seoul to see you, okay?"
These words were like a warm light, instantly illuminating Yinna's dark heart.
Flying to Seoul to see her?
This meant that in his heart, her position was irreplaceable.
This was more powerful than any hollow explanation.
Yinna's eyes turned red all of a sudden.
Joy, emotion, and the grievances she had just accumulated all surged up at this moment.
She nodded vigorously, but tears unhelpfully slid down.
"Mm!"
She responded with a sob, then feeling embarrassed to be like this, she quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand, only for more to fall.
Finally, she simply broke into a smile through her tears, with tears hanging at the corners of her eyes but her lips turned high up.
"You're not allowed to lie to me!"
"I won't lie to you," Lin Feng looked at her cute appearance and also laughed. "Pinky swear."
He extended his pinky finger toward the screen.
Yinna also smiled, using her slender pinky finger to lightly touch the screen.
This childish gesture made the slight estrangement and suspicion between the two vanish into thin air.
After chatting for a few more minutes, telling her to rest early, Lin Feng finally hung up the video.
The apartment returned to silence.
The smile on Lin Feng's face faded bit by bit.
It was replaced by a complex and determined expression.
He walked to the full-length mirror in the living room and looked at himself in the mirror.
That face, comparable to Daniel Wu's, was now filled with calmness.
Just a shadow-catching gossip report could make Yinna, far away in Korea, so uneasy.
He realized that the fame and strength he currently possessed were far from enough.
He not only couldn't control the media's public opinion, but even protecting the person he wanted to protect seemed so difficult.
He needed more powerful strength.
He needed to stand in a higher place so that everyone could only look up.
He needed to possess absolute strength so that all rumors and slander would become pale and powerless before him.
His consciousness sank into his mind again.
On that semi-transparent system interface, the line of gray words [Aomine Daiki's Unrestricted Shot] seemed to be flashing with an enticing light.
The thought of unlocking it became more urgent and clearer than ever at this moment.
This was no longer just about becoming stronger on the court.
It was even more about gaining the power to control his own destiny and protect his loved ones.
Lin Feng's gaze became sharp.
He turned back to the bedroom and opened the closet.
Inside hung a row of top-tier suits sent by sponsors, with the tags still attached.
He took out a well-tailored black Armani suit and put it on.
A white shirt and a black tie.
When he looked in the mirror again, the man in the mirror had shed the greenness of the court, adding a mature man's charm and a hint of danger.
He picked up his car keys and walked out of the apartment.
Downstairs was parked a brand-new Aston Martin DB9just delivered by a sponsor.
He pulled open the door and sat inside.
Starting the engine, accompanied by a beast-like low growl, the sports car merged into the brilliant night traffic of Los Angeles.
His goal was clear.
Beverly Hills.
Taylor Swift's party.
Chapter 39: Ticket to the Vanity Fair
The engine of the aston martin DB9 let out a low growl as it smoothly passed through the heavily guarded gates of Beverly Hills.
Before him was a brightly lit modern mansion, like a crystal palace perched on a mountaintop.
As soon as the car came to a stop, countless blinding white lights erupted from the darkness outside the estate.
The paparazzi's camera flashes were like a dense net of fire, trying to pierce through the car windows to capture any trace of the person inside.
The car door opened.
Lin Feng stepped out from the driver's seat, his black Armani suit reflecting a high-end texture under the lights.
His face was expressionless, as if the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with him.
"It's Lin Feng! It's really him!"
"How did he end up at Taylor's party?!"
"Shoot quickly! This is a headline!"
The shouts of the reporters and the sounds of camera shutters blended together, forming a feverish wave of noise.
Several tall security guards in black quickly stepped forward, pushing back the crowd and building a human wall between Lin Feng and the frenzied media.
Lin Feng didn't even glance at the reporters. He took long strides, walking calmly through the path cleared by the security personnel.
The heavy, carved wooden doors opened before him and closed behind him.
Inside and outside the doors were two completely different worlds.
The frenzy and noise outside were completely shut out.
Inside, jazz music flowed, crystal glasses clinked crisply, and the air was a mix of champagne, cigars, and top-tier perfume.
This was the center of the vanity fair, the intersection of power.
Lin Feng's gaze swept across the room.
He saw a white-haired old man who had just won the Oscar for Best Director, holding a wine glass and chatting merrily with a blonde, blue-eyed Victoria's Secretsupermodel.
Not far away, a top Hollywood action star was surrounded by several producers, discussing the investment for his next movie.
Everyone here possessed immense energy capable of influencing public opinion and the flow of capital.
They were the apex predators of this city's food chain.
Lin Feng didn't feel the slightest bit out of place.
He walked to the bar, where a waiter respectfully handed him a glass of Perrier-Jouët champagne.
Holding his glass, he didn't rush to join any circle but instead walked to a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside was the brilliant night view of Los Angeles, with ten thousand lights looking like scattered stars.
He sipped his wine quietly, like a calm hunter; before entering a new hunting ground, the first thing to do was observe and familiarize himself with the environment.
He could feel that from the moment he walked in, countless gazes had fallen upon him.
There was curiosity, scrutiny, amusement, and undisguised assessment.
A rising star in the sports world, an Oriental kid who commanded the winds and clouds at the Staples Center, had suddenly burst into their top-tier entertainment party.
This in itself was a topic full of drama.
Lin Feng didn't care about these gazes.
He was simply waiting.
Waiting for tonight's host.
Suddenly, there was a subtle change in the atmosphere of the party.
The crowd seemed to be parted by an invisible hand, creating a path.
A flash of dazzling red entered Lin Feng's field of vision.
Taylor Swift.
She wore a boldly tailored red gown that perfectly accentuated her already tall figure.
Her snow-white skin seemed to glow against the red dress.
Her long blonde hair, signature red lips, and sapphire-like eyes made her look like a queen about to be crowned.
Ignoring everyone's stares, she moved with clear intent, heading straight through the crowd toward the Oriental man drinking alone by the floor-to-ceiling window.
The focus of the entire room instantly converged there.
"I thought you'd be scared off by the flashes outside, my mr. artist."
Taylor walked up to Lin Feng, raised her glass, her voice carrying a hint of a smile and teasing.
Lin Feng turned around, met her gaze, and the corner of his mouth curled into a perfect arc.
"artists are used to living under the spotlight, aren't they?"
His response was neither humble nor arrogant, carrying a posture of equality.
A flash of appreciation flickered in Taylor's blue eyes.
"Well said."
She gently swirled the champagne in her glass.
"But the spotlights here are much hotter than those on the court."
"I like a challenge," Lin Feng replied calmly.
Those four words made the smile on Taylor's face even brighter.
"I knew you'd say that."
She stepped half a pace closer, the distance between them becoming somewhat ambiguous.
"So? Is my collection of 'artworks' here to your satisfaction?"
Her gaze swept over the star-studded guests throughout the room, her tone carrying the pride of a host.
Lin Feng was about to respond to this pun.
His gaze, however, inadvertently drifted over Taylor's shoulder toward another corner of the party.
There, a woman was leaning lazily against a white marble pillar.
She wore a low-cut black gown; its simple style was worn with an ultimate sense of sexiness.
Beneath the gown were the proud curves that drove men all over the world crazy.
Short blonde hair, hazy eyes, and a playful smile playing on her lips.
In her hand, she held not champagne, but a glass of amber whiskey.
As if sensing Lin Feng's gaze, she looked up, her eyes piercing through the crowd to meet his precisely.
There was no surprise in her eyes, only a hint of knowing amusement, as if saying: You finally saw me.
Lin Feng's heart gave a slight thud.
Scarlett Johansson.
The Hollywood box-office queen who portrayed the classic image of "Black Widow" on screen.
The moment he recognized her, a stream of blue information that only he could see appeared in his mind.
[Detected a new ss-rank charm target: Scarlett Johansson.]
Another SS-rank!
Lin Feng's breath hitched for half a second.
The condition for the system to unlock skills was "completing the first deep intimate link with an ss-rank charm target."
The "target" here was plural.
This meant his choice was not the only one.
Yinna, Taylor, Scarlett... they were all keys to opening the next skill treasure trove.
A crazy and bold thought took root in Lin Feng's heart.
At the moment his mind wavered, a soft, warm sensation came from his arm.
Taylor Swift had already affectionately linked her arm with his, pulling him back from his thoughts.
The scent of vanilla and fresh flowers from her body lingered at the tip of his nose.
"Let's go, my mr. artist."
Taylor's voice carried an undeniable intimacy, her red lips almost touching his ear.
"I'll take you to meet a few boring friends."
"They're all incredibly curious about you."
She pulled Lin Feng and turned toward the center of the party.
Led by her, Lin Feng's steps followed involuntarily, his gaze taking one last look at that corner.
Scarlett Johansson raised her glass of whiskey toward him, making a toast from afar.
Then, she turned around, leaving her sexy back for Lin Feng to see.
Chapter 40: Battle of Wits and Undercurrents
Taylor's warm arm tightly linked with Lin Feng's, leading him away from the loneliness by the window and pulling him toward the true center of the party's vortex.
The unique scent of vanilla on her body was like an invisible net, enveloping him.
"Let's go, my mr. artist."
Taylor's voice carried the joy of a victor.
"I'll take you to meet a few boring friends."
Her red lips drew close to Lin Feng's ear, her breath warm.
"They're all incredibly curious about you."
Lin Feng followed her lead, but his gaze involuntarily glanced back at the corner where Scarlett Johansson had disappeared.
That woman was like a glass of mellow whiskey, with a powerful aftertaste.
Soon, Taylor led him to a small circle of middle-aged men.
One man, with meticulously combed white hair and gold-rimmed glasses, was Hans, a star producer for Universal Music.
Another, with a receding hairline but sharp eyes, was James, an up-and-coming director for Paramount Pictures.
"Everyone, let me introduce you."
Taylor's voice caught everyone's attention.
"This is the one I mentioned to you, Lin Feng."
Hans's gaze lingered on Lin Feng for a moment, carrying a professional scrutiny.
"The Lakers' eastern magician? He looks even more upright than on TV."
Director James was more direct, his eyes seemingly assessing the value of a commodity.
"Mr. Lin, with your looks, even if you didn't play basketball, there would definitely be a place for you in Hollywood."
Lin Feng smiled, showing no sign of being flattered by the compliment.
He raised his glass, gesturing to the group.
"You flatter me, Director. I'm just an athlete, used to running on the court."
He paused, turning his gaze toward the producer, Hans.
"However, I've always felt that a thrilling basketball game and a classic song have something in common."
Hans became interested: "Oh? How so?"
"Rhythm."
Lin Feng uttered a single word.
"From the opening feelers to the deadlock in the middle, and finally to the climax of a game-winning shot. All these transitions require a perfect rhythm to control. Just like a song, from the buildup of the intro to the narrative of the verse, and then the emotional explosion of the chorus."
These words left both Hans and James momentarily stunned.
They had thought he was just a simple-minded athlete, never expecting such insight in his conversation.
The look of pride on Taylor's face deepened.
This was exactly what she wanted everyone to see: the man she chose was by no means ordinary.
Just as the atmosphere was becoming harmonious, a discordant voice cut in.
"Yo, isn't this our big pop star Taylor? Found a new 'inspiration' again?"
A young man wearing a flashy silk shirt with a low-cut neckline walked over.
He was handsome, but his eyes carried a sense of flippancy and arrogance.
Ryan Collins, a B-list Hollywood actor whose primary claim to fame was his scandals with various divas and supermodels, and one of Taylor's rumored ex-boyfriends.
He ignored the others, his gaze locking directly onto Lin Feng, filled with undisguised hostility and disdain.
"Hey, athlete."
A contemptuous curve tugged at the corner of Ryan's mouth.
"The drinks here might be more expensive than your entire year's salary."
"Don't get drunk and end up unable to pay the bill, making Taylor lose face."
As the words fell, the surroundings instantly went silent.
Even the flowing music seemed to have been muted.
Everyone's eyes focused here, filled with the amusement of watching a spectacle.
The smile on Taylor's face vanished instantly, her blue eyes turning icy cold.
Her arm around Lin Feng's tightened subconsciously.
She was about to speak, ready to tear this clueless ex to shreds with the harshest words.
A warm palm gently covered the back of her hand.
Lin Feng shook his head at her, signaling that she didn't need to speak.
He turned to face the provocative Ryan, a polite smile even lingering on his face.
"Thank you for the reminder."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears.
"However, my profession has taught me one thing."
Lin Feng raised his champagne glass and gave it a slight shake toward Ryan.
"The value of a thing doesn't lie in how expensive its price tag is."
"But in whether it can help you'score' at a critical moment."
He looked at Ryan, whose expression was starting to change, and his smile became meaningful.
"Whether it's on the court or at the box office, right?"
"Pfft—"
Taylor couldn't hold it back any longer and burst out laughing.
This laugh was like a signal.
Within the surrounding crowd, suppressed chuckles followed one after another.
Who didn't know that Ryan Collins's last starring role had been a box office disaster where the investors lost everything, and the media mocked him as "box office poison"?
Lin Feng's words seemed to be about basketball, but in reality, they were like a precise scalpel, cutting open Ryan's most embarrassing scar and sprinkling a handful of salt on it for good measure.
Talk about a low blow!
Ryan's face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver.
Failing to humiliate with money, he instead had his "box office poison" facade stripped away in public.
He felt the eyes of everyone in the room pricking him like needles.
"You..."
He pointed at Lin Feng, trembling with rage, but couldn't utter a single word.
The smile on Taylor's face faded, replaced by a queen-like indifference.
She took a step forward, shielding Lin Feng.
"Ryan, I think your social duties for tonight are over."
"Now, you can leave."
Her voice carried no emotion, as if she were shooing away an annoying fly.
Slapped in the face publicly, Ryan's last shred of dignity was crushed under Taylor's icy gaze.
He gave Lin Feng a venomous glare, as if to etch his image into his heart.
Then, he turned tail and fled, squeezing through the crowd in embarrassment under the mocking gazes of the onlookers.
The minor disturbance thus subsided.
But the way everyone at the party looked at Lin Feng had completely changed.
This eastern man not only had the looks that captivated Taylor but also possessed such a sharp, composed mind and eloquence.
He was no mere pretty plaything dependent on a queen.
He had his own claws.
Taylor turned around, her blue eyes strikingly bright, filled with admiration and surprise.
"You always manage to surprise me, mr. artist."
She linked her arm with Lin Feng's again, her posture even more intimate this time.
"Come on, let me take you to see a true 'work of art'."
Her tone carried a hint of showing off as she pulled Lin Feng along, taking the initiative to weave through the crowd toward the lounge area on the other side of the party.
There, by a white marble pillar, Scarlett Johansson was leaning lazily.
She seemed to have been watching everything that just happened with great interest, the smile on her lips not yet faded.
Taylor stopped in front of Scarlett.
The gazes of two women, both standing at the pinnacle of the vanity fair, collided silently in the air.
"Scarlett."
Taylor spoke first, her voice sweet but carrying a sense of staking her claim.
"Let me introduce you to Lin Feng."
She emphasized her words pointedly.
"A true artist."
Scarlett's gaze swept over Taylor's arm linked with Lin Feng's before slowly rising to settle on Lin Feng's face.
Ignoring the sharp edge in Taylor's words, she reached out her fair hand to Lin Feng.
"Hello, Lin."
Her voice had a unique raspy quality, sexy and enchanting.
Lin Feng naturally released Taylor's arm and shook Scarlett's outstretched hand.
Her hand was very soft, carrying a hint of the liquor's chill.
Scarlett's gaze sized him up without reservation, and finally, her red lips curled into a playful arc.
"I watched your game against the Los Angeles Clippers."
"That last ball... the pass was very sexy."
Chapter 41: Resonance on the Balcony
"That pass was sexy."
Scarlett Johansson's husky voice was like a feather, lightly scratching the eardrums of everyone present.
Especially Lin Feng, who was standing in front of her.
Taylor Swift's hand, which was linked through Lin Feng's arm, unconsciously tightened slightly, and a hint of vigilance was hidden beneath her sweet smile.
Lin Feng, however, seemed oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between the two women.
He released Taylor's arm with natural and polite movements.
Then, he shook the hand Scarlett had extended.
It was very soft, carrying the coolness transferred from a whiskey glass.
"Miss Johansson, you flatter me."
Lin Feng's voice was calm and gentle.
"I just did what I was supposed to do."
His palm was broad and strong; after a brief, polite clasp with Scarlett's soft hand, he released it.
"Is that so?"
Scarlett's red lips curved into a playful arc, and her gaze swept back and forth between his face and Taylor's.
"I, on the other hand, think you're always doing things you'shouldn't do,' and doing them exceptionally well."
The implied meaning in that sentence caused Taylor's expression to change slightly.
"Scarlett, Lin is my guest."
Taylor's voice was still sweet, but it now carried the posture of a hostess who would not tolerate intrusion.
"Of course, your guest."
Scarlett raised the whiskey in her hand, no longer looking at Lin Feng, but at Taylor.
"Have fun, you two."
Having said that, she turned around, her sexy silhouette—which drove countless men wild—swaying as she disappeared into the other end of the crowd.
An invisible confrontation ended in a flash of lightning.
"Don't mind her."
Taylor re-linked arms with Lin Feng, and this time, she pressed her soft body closer to him.
"She's always like this, trying to attract attention with some inexplicable remarks."
Lin Feng smiled, offering no reply.
He could sense that Taylor's emotions were fluctuating.
"It's a bit stuffy here."
Taylor glanced around at the noisy crowd, frowning slightly.
"I'll take you somewhere quieter."
Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Lin Fengthrough the bustling living room and pushed open a glass door leading outside.
The noisy music and human voices were blocked behind the heavy glass.
A cool evening breeze blew in their faces, stirring the golden strands of hair on Taylor's forehead.
This was a huge open-air balcony, with smooth teak flooring underfoot, and beyond the railing was the brilliant, galaxy-like night view of the entire Los Angeles.
"Wow."
Lin Feng let out a heartfelt exclamation of admiration.
Standing here, it felt as if he owned the entire city.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Taylor let go of Lin Feng's arm, walked to the railing, and spread her arms as if embracing the night.
Her long red dress fluttered gently in the evening wind, making her look like a butterfly preparing to spread its wings.
Lin Feng walked to her side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her, gazing into the distance over the railing.
"Every night, after a tour performance, when I return to the hotel, I stand by the window and watch the night view for a long time."
Taylor suddenly spoke, her voice devoid of the Queen aura she had at the party, replaced by a touch of indescribable loneliness.
"The night view of every city is different, but the feeling is the same."
"What feeling?" Lin Feng asked.
"Loneliness."
Taylor uttered the word, then turned to look at Lin Feng, her blue eyes appearing misty in the darkness.
"Look, there are thousands of lights below, and beneath every light, there is a family, a story."
"And I, standing at the highest point, enjoying the love of tens of millions of fans, feel like I don't belong to any of those lights."
"Every relationship I have is turned into a gossip headline, scrutinized by the whole world under a magnifying glass."
"Every song I write is matched by them to every person I've ever dated. They analyze the lyrics, guessing who hurt me, and who I'm alluding to."
Her voice grew softer, tinged with deep exhaustion.
"Sometimes I feel like they don't love Taylor Swift, but rather a symbol, imagined by them, living in songs and scandals."
Lin Feng listened quietly.
He didn't offer empty comfort like "I understand."
Because he truly empathized.
"When I first entered the league, I was just a temp on a ten-day contract."
Lin Feng's gaze also fell upon the myriad lights in the distance, his voice calm as he narrated.
"I could be cut at any moment, and I didn't even know where my next meal would come from."
"Back then, no one paid attention to me. I could play ball all afternoon on any street court in Los Angeles, and no one would recognize me."
Taylor listened silently, not interrupting him.
"Later, because of a few shots, I became famous overnight."
Lin Feng gave a self-deprecating smile.
"The media hailed me as the 'oriental sharpshooter,' the 'Los Angeles Lakers Savior'."
"Sponsors sent sports cars and suits, and paparazzi started staking out my apartment building."
"And then, as you saw today, a baseless report is enough to put me on the entertainment headlines."
"My name is put together with yours, and what they discuss isn't how well I play basketball, but whether I'm worthy of you, or whether you'll write me into your next song."
He turned his head and looked at Taylor.
"We are like people living in a glass house, stared at by countless eyes. They consume our lives and define our joys and sorrows."
"Our every move becomes their after-dinner conversation."
At this moment, the air seemed to stand still.
The evening wind blew, and the city's light and shadow flowed in their eyes.
One was a Queen of Pop, the other a New King of Basketball.
But at this moment, they were just two young people equally trapped by fame and fortune, enduring immense pressure.
A strong sense of resonance silently spread between the two of them.
Taylor looked at Lin Feng, seeing the same understanding and helplessness regarding their situation reflected on his handsome face.
She suddenly felt that this man understood her.
What he saw wasn't Taylor the dazzling superstar, but the real her, the one who also felt lonely and exhausted.
Her eyes slowly grew hazy.
"Lin..."
She softly called his name.
"Hmm?"
Taylor voluntarily took a step closer to him, the distance between them close enough to feel each other's breath.
The scent of vanilla and flowers on her became more intense.
"I think..."
Her voice was very soft, like a sleep talker, her red lips almost touching Lin Feng's ear.
"The inspiration for my next song might just be you."
The ambiguous atmosphere reached its peak at this moment.
The night was the best catalyst.
Lin Feng's reflection shimmered in Taylor's blue eyes.
She slightly stood on her tiptoes, closed her eyes, and raised her long neck in a graceful arc.
She seemed ready to offer a kiss.
Lin Feng's heart also skipped a beat.
Just as their lips were about to meet.
"Click."
The glass door behind them was pushed open.
A female voice with a distinctly husky quality broke the ambiguous silence.
"Looks like I came at a bad time?"
Scarlett Johansson leaned lazily against the doorframe, holding two glasses of amber whiskey.
An enigmatic smile hung on her face, and her gaze swept over the two frozen figures.
"However, compared to champagne, I guess a real 'artist' prefers something stronger."
The party gradually dispersed in the early hours of the morning.
Lin Feng declined the suggestion of Taylor's Agent to arrange a driver, and personally drove the aston martin to take Taylor home.
The car was quiet, save for the steady roar of the engine.
Scarlett's appearance was like a stone thrown into a lake; although the ripples had faded, the undercurrents beneath the water could not be calmed.
The car finally stopped outside another mansion belonging to Taylor in Beverly Hills.
"Thank you for driving me back."
Taylor unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't immediately get out of the car.
She turned around, her blue eyes fixed on Lin Feng in the dim car interior.
"I had a wonderful time tonight."
"Me too," Lin Feng replied.
Taylor suddenly leaned forward and gave Lin Feng a deep embrace.
Her soft body, carrying warm heat and a captivating scent, pressed tightly against him.
Lin Feng could feel her slightly rapid heartbeat.
A moment later, she released her arms, but left a clear and gentle kiss on Lin Feng's cheek.
"Good night, my mr. artist."
After she spoke, she pushed open the car door and walked into the brightly lit mansion without looking back.
Lin Feng sat in the car, his fingers subconsciously touching the spot on his cheek where warmth still lingered.
Just then, a stream of blue information suddenly lit up in his mind.
Below the gray text representing [Aomine Daikis Formless Shot], a progress bar appeared that had never been there before.
The progress bar instantly leaped forward from empty, stopping at roughly ninety percent!
Lin Feng's heart gave a heavy thump.
He knew he was just one final step away from the goal.
Chapter 42: The Diva's Private Invitation
The aston martin drove smoothly along the empty midnight streets of Los Angeles.
Outside the window, the city's neon lights rapidly sped backward, merging into blurry halos of light.
Lin Feng's fingers subconsciously touched his right cheek.
The warm, moist feel and faint scent of Taylor Swift's lipstick seemed to linger there.
In his mind, the blue progress bar was quietly suspended at ninety percent.
Aomine Daikis Formless Shot.
This string of gray characters, once unattainable, now emitted a faint glow, ready to be illuminated.
Only one final step remained.
Only the final ten percent remained.
Lin Feng's heart beat steadily and powerfully.
He knew that he was within arm's reach of obtaining the power capable of overturning any game.
Just then.
"Buzz—"
The phone resting on the center console lit up and vibrated softly.
He glanced at it.
It was a new text message.
It came from an unfamiliar number.
Lin Feng opened the message, and a line of English appeared on the screen.
"It seems you made your choice tonight. However, my invitation is still valid, if you want to see a different kind of art."
There was no signature at the end of the message.
But Lin Feng instantly knew who the sender was.
Scarlett Johansson.
That husky voice, that playful gaze, that amber whiskey.
This woman was like a lazy yet dangerous feline; even after the party ended, her claw marks were still clear.
She had also become interested in him.
The corner of Lin Feng's mouth curved into a subtle smile.
A choice?
Only children make choices.
He picked up his phone, tapped quickly on the screen, and replied with a message.
"It would be a great honor, and I look forward to having the opportunity to admire your collection."
He neither accepted nor outright refused.
Like an experienced card player, he wouldn't show all his cards too early, instead keeping the possibilities firmly in his hands.
He tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat.
Lin Feng stepped on the gas, the sports car engine let out a low growl, and he accelerated deeper into the night.
He returned to his luxury apartment located in the city center.
Lin Feng took off the Armani suit and casually draped it over the sofa.
He walked up to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the sleeping city below.
Tonight's party felt like a magnificent coming-of-age ceremony.
He was no longer just the basketball rookie who hit the game-winner at Staples Center.
He used the most direct method to announce his arrival to Los Angeles's highest social circles.
He was no longer a commodity to be assessed, but a player qualified to sit at the table.
Whether it was the verbal sparring with Ryan Collins, the mental resonance with Taylor on the balcony, or Scarlett's suggestive probing.
All of this made him realize more clearly that in this arena of fame and fortune, strength and charm were the only passes.
And the charm basketball system was his biggest trump card... The next day, at the Lakers training facility.
Not long after training began, Nick Young approached, holding a colorful entertainment newspaper and grinning mischievously.
He unfolded the newspaper in front of Lin Feng; the front-page headline featured a huge high-definition photo.
The photo showed Taylor Swift intimately holding Lin Feng's arm at the party last night.
The headline was extremely exaggerated.
"Diva's New Romance Exposed! Mysterious Eastern Boyfriend is the Lakers' New King!"
"Dude, nice job!"
Nick Young winked and nudged Lin Feng with his elbow.
"It's only been a few days? And you've already snagged the Diva?"
"Quick, tell me, what happened last night? Is it true, like the papers say, that you two already..."
His voice wasn't quiet, and several teammates who were warming up nearby heard it, casting curious and gossipy glances their way.
Lin Feng glanced at the newspaper, then at Nick Young's face, which was plastered with "curiosity."
He just smiled and ignored him.
He picked up a basketball and walked straight toward the other end of the court.
There, Kobe Bryant had already begun his personal shooting practice, as if all the outside noise had nothing to do with him.
"Hey, don't leave! Share the experience!"
Nick Young shouted reluctantly from behind.
Lin Feng did not look back.
He joined Kobe's morning practice.
Sweat quickly soaked his training uniform.
The soreness and exhaustion in his muscles gradually cleared his mind of distractions concerning parties, women, and gossip.
All he needed to do now was focus.
Kobe's training intensity was, as always, terrifying.
The two silently engaged in various high-intensity drills and shooting practice; the only sounds in the gym were the basketball hitting the floor and swishing through the net.
An hour later, the morning practice ended.
Kobe tossed Lin Feng a bottle of water, and picked up one for himself and twisted the cap open.
"Don't let things off the court affect your focus."
Kobe's voice was flat, but his gaze was sharp as he looked at Lin Feng.
"The Memphis Grizzlies are not a team like the Los Angeles Clippers."
"They will use their bodies, trash talk, and every dirty trick to stop you from scoring."
"Tony Allen will stick to you like gum, and Zach Randolphand Marc Gasol will turn the paint into a slaughterhouse."
"If you're thinking about what a woman's lipstick tastes like on the court, they will tear you apart."
Lin Feng twisted open the water bottle and chugged a few mouthfuls.
"I understand."
He replied calmly.
Kobe looked at his clear and determined eyes, nodded, and didn't say anything more.
He knew that this young man didn't need excessive lecturing.
Deep down, they were the same kind of person.
Over the next few days, Lin Feng completely immersed himself in high-intensity training.
Team strategy drills, personal strength enhancement, and research into the Grizzlies' defensive system.
He dedicated all his energy to preparation.
The rumors about him and Taylor continued to spread in the media, but he made no response.
He was like an isolated island; no matter how strong the external storms, they couldn't move him in the slightest.
The day of the Lakers' away game against the MemphisGrizzlies arrived.
The night before the team was scheduled to leave for the airport.
Lin Feng had just finished extra practice and returned to his apartment.
At the door, there was an exquisitely packaged black box.
He picked it up; the box was light and had no sender information on it.
Lin Feng closed the door and placed the box on the coffee table in the living room.
He unwrapped the packaging.
Inside the box, soft black velvet was laid out.
On the velvet lay a black card and a uniquely shaped silver key.
The card was made of metal, with a matte texture, and had a music symbol LOGO printed on it using hot stamping, but nothing else.
Lin Feng picked up the card and flipped it over.
On the back of the card was a small sticky note.
Written on it was a beautiful line of English with a slightly flowing script.
"Access card and key to my private recording studio."
"I want to sing my new song to you first."
The signature was a capital "T".
Lin Feng stood in the living room, holding the card and key.
Outside the window, the Los Angeles night view was still bustling.
This was an invitation that couldn't be refused.
Chapter 43: Omen of the Bottleneck
That night, the Lakers team checked into a hotel in downtown Memphis.
The city's temperament, much like its basketball style, was tough, simple, and even a little rough.
In the hotel room, the TV was playing ESPN's pre-game analysis show.
On the screen, a Black player, not handsome but with fierce eyes, was speaking into the camera.
Tony Allen, the core perimeter defender for the Memphis Grizzlies, was widely regarded as one of the league's strongest perimeter defenders, nicknamed "The Grind King."
"Lin Feng?"
Tony Allen smiled, showing a flash of white teeth into the microphone, but his expression held no warmth.
"I watched his tapes. A kid who can shoot well."
"But this is Memphis."
His tone was decisive.
"I don't care who he is, or which pop star he's dating."
"Once he steps into my defensive zone, he won't get an easy shot."
"I'll make him realize that NBA physicality is completely different from a Hollywood party."
In front of the television, Nick Young whistled.
"Dude, this guy is declaring war on you."
Lin Feng simply looked calmly at the screen and turned off the TV.
"Get some rest."
The next day, FedExForum.
The arena was packed, and the blue ocean of fans was filled with deafening noise.
The fans here were completely different from the audience in Los Angeles.
They didn't watch stars; they watched physicality.
They longed to see thrilling muscle collisions and longed to see opponents wailing under their home team's iron-clad defense.
The opening whistle sounded.
The Lakers' first possession.
Following the strategy, Lin Feng began moving without the ball along the baseline, trying to curl around a teammate's screen to look for a three-point opportunity.
However, the moment he started moving, a huge force pressed against him from behind.
Tony Allen!
He was like a piece of soaking wet taffy, sticking tightly to Lin Feng. His arms, chest, and thighs—every part of his body was applying the maximum legal level of contact.
Lin Feng tried to accelerate and break free, but Allen's footwork was rooted, always anticipating his path and cutting off his position.
Nash's pass couldn't comfortably reach his hands.
The first prerequisite for the All-Range Three-Pointerwas that you had to be able to receive the ball and have even a fraction of a second of shooting space.
Currently, he met neither of those prerequisites.
The first possession resulted in a Lakers 24-second violation.
The second possession.
Lin Feng changed his strategy. He no longer insisted on perimeter movement but actively called for the ball and dropped into the low post.
He recalled Kobe's instruction to use post-up moves to create space.
The ball was passed into his hands.
With his back to Tony Allen, he planted his feet and began using his back strength, trying to muscle his way in one step.
"Bang!"
A dull sound of muscle collision.
Lin Feng felt like he had run into a wall.
He exerted all his core strength, but Tony Allen's lower body was rock steady, completely immovable.
The gap was too obvious.
His strength was far from enough against a pure defensive specialist.
Failing the post-up, he could only hurriedly turn around and attempt a fadeaway jumper.
Under the interference of Allen's long arms, the ball hit the front rim and bounced high.
Under the basket, the Grizzlies' "Black and White Bears" had been waiting for a long time.
Zach Randolph used his thick body to box out, and Marc Gasol easily secured the defensive rebound.
The third attempt.
Lin Feng decided to use his speed.
He held the ball at the top of the arc, facing Tony Allen's defense, and performed a quick crossover followed by a hesitation move.
If he were facing Barnes, this move would have been enough to create half a step of driving space.
But Tony Allen didn't fall for his feint at all.
His center of gravity was perfectly maintained, his slide steps kept pace, and he constantly blocked the path between Lin Feng and the basket, like a moving gate forcing him toward the sideline.
Lin Feng forced his way in.
He got half a step past Allen, but immediately fell into the trap set by the Grizzlies.
To his left was the outstretched long arm of Little Gasol, and to his right was the massive body of Randolph.
He seemed to have plunged right into a bear's den.
"Slap!"
A crisp sound.
The basketball in his hands was cleanly stripped from behind by Little Gasol.
The Grizzlies immediately launched a fast break, scoring an easy layup.
Deafening cheers erupted inside the arena.
Lin Feng looked at his empty hands, feeling that kind of helpless confusion for the first time on a basketball court.
The entire first half became Tony Allen's personal defensive showcase.
No matter where Lin Feng ran, he was always right there, like a shadow.
He tried every offensive skill he knew.
Off-ball movement: smothered.
Post-up isolation: couldn't budge him.
Driving with the ball: shut down.
He struggled to even get a single decent shooting opportunity.
Anxiety grew wildly in his heart like weeds.
He started playing impatiently, and several forced shots through tight gaps resulted only in clang after clang off the rim.
When the halftime buzzer sounded, Lin Feng's stats were displayed on the large screen.
1-for-8 shooting.
0-for-4 from three-point range.
Only 3 points, earned from a single free throw.
And a glaring 3 turnovers.
The Lakers were trailing by a large margin of 18 points.
Lin Feng walked back to the locker room with his head down, the unrestrained mockery of the Memphis fans ringing in his ears.
"Softie!"
"Go back to Hollywood and make movies!"
"This is the Lakers' savior? What a joke!"
He could feel the concerned glances from his teammates, but he said nothing.
Kobe sat courtside, his expression grave.
He watched Lin Feng's defeated figure but did not speak a word.
No one could walk this path for him.
He had to overcome this hurdle himself.
During the fifteen-minute halftime, the internet had already exploded.
The voices of doubt, previously suppressed by Lin Feng's miraculous performances, were now returned a hundredfold.
"I told you, as soon as the defense ramps up the intensity, he's useless! He's just a pure shooter!"
"Laughable. 'eastern magician'? More like 'Eastern Softie'!"
"Defended this badly by Tony Allen, and he still has the nerve to be rumored with Taylor? Does he deserve her?"
"Grit and Grind! This is real basketball!"
The atmosphere in the Lakers' locker room was oppressive.
D'Antoni was sketching on the whiteboard, outlining adjustments for the second half.
Lin Feng sat on a stool in the corner, covering his head with a towel, isolating himself from the world.
The coach's voice and the breathing of his teammates seemed distant.
In his mind, every possession of the first half played on repeat.
Tony Allen's iron-wall face.
Little Gasol's massive, sky-covering hands.
Randolph's insurmountable wall of flesh.
Divine skills restrained.
Talent crushed.
This was an unprecedented feeling of powerlessness.
A deep-seated, intense craving for greater power.
He needed a new weapon.
A brutal force that didn't rely on space, didn't fear contact, and could tear open the defense in a one-on-one struggle!
Silently, he took his phone out of his bag.
The screen lit up, displaying the text message from Taylor.
"I want to be the first to sing my new song to you."
Below it were the black metal card and the silver key.
Lin Feng looked at the phone screen. Under the towel covering his head, his eyes changed.
All the anxiety and confusion were, in that moment, replaced by a cold and firm resolve.
The progress bar in his mind representing Aomine Daiki's Unrestricted Shot silently rested at ninety percent.
Only one final step remained.
He knew what he had to do.
Chapter 44: Forget Basketball, We Only Talk About Art
The whistle for the second half blew.
Lin Feng stepped back onto the court.
His eyes tried to refocus, but the shadow of the first half clung to him like a persistent shadow.
D'Antoni's tactical adjustment was to have Gasol and Nash set more off-ball screens for him.
The intention was clear: use more complex movement to create even a sliver of space.
But Tony Allen was like a defensive machine programmed with a precise tracking sequence.
Wherever Lin Feng went, he followed.
Every attempt to shake him off using a screen was met by Allen fighting through with force or anticipating with a fronting move to stick to him again.
The constant physical exertion made Lin Feng's steps heavier and heavier.
Once, he finally found a momentary opening on the wing through a double screen.
He caught the ball and jumped.
The moment the ball left his fingertips, Tony Allen's figure lunged in front of him, his large hand almost completely obscuring his vision.
The ball's arc was clearly off.
"Clang!"
Another dull sound of the ball hitting the rim.
The Memphis fans in the arena erupted in loud laughter.
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
They began chanting at Tony Allen.
Every one of Lin Feng's struggles became another bright mark on Allen's badge of honor.
Lin Feng's confidence was being eroded bit by bit.
He began to hesitate.
Should he pass, or should he attack himself?
Should he drive, or should he shoot?
When a shooter starts to doubt his shot, he has already lost.
The final minutes of the game had devolved into garbage time.
Lin Feng was subbed out; he sat at the end of the bench with a towel over his head.
The final whistle blew.
The scoreboard at the FedExForum displayed a glaring score.
92-115.
The Lakers suffered a crushing defeat.
Lin Feng's personal stats were frozen at 3-of-15 shooting, 0-of-7 from three-point range, finishing with 9 points.
This was the worst game he had played since rising to fame.
After the game, he didn't speak to anyone and was the first to head back through the player tunnel.
On both sides of the tunnel, the reporters who had been smiling at him before now aimed their cameras and microphones at him like heavy artillery.
"Lin! What are your thoughts on Tony Allen's defense?"
"Do you think tonight's loss proves that you're just a system player?"
"There are rumors that your scandal with Taylor Swiftaffected your performance. Is that true?"
The sharp questions stabbed at him like knives.
Lin Feng looked straight ahead, walking through the crowd without saying a word.
For the first time, he refused all media interviews.
In the locker room, the atmosphere was deathly silent.
Everyone was silently changing clothes; no one spoke.
Lin Feng sat in front of his locker, isolating himself in the corner like a wounded lone wolf.
The pain of failure.
The backlash from public opinion, falling from heaven to hell.
The mockery of the fans.
All the pressure converged like a massive mountain, weighing heavily on his heart.
He had never felt such immense pressure.
A hand lightly patted his shoulder.
It was Steve Nash.
"Hey, kid, keep your head up."
Nash's voice was very gentle.
"Michael Jordan was once beaten bloody by the Pistons' 'Bad Boys'."
"Shaq was also outplayed by Olajuwon in the NBA Finals."
Nearby, Pau Gasol also walked over and handed him a bottle of water.
"Steve is right, Lin."
Gasol's face carried a brotherly concern.
"Every superstar has gone through nights like this; it doesn't mean anything."
"What's important is how you bounce back from this."
Lin Feng looked up at the two veterans and nodded, but didn't speak.
He understood all of this.
But understanding it and truly feeling it were two different things.
Just then, a figure blocked his path.
It was Kobe.
He had already changed and was looking down calmly at Lin Feng, who was sitting on the floor.
Everyone's eyes in the locker room converged on them.
Kobe didn't say anything comforting.
He simply said one thing in his unique, raspy, and piercing voice.
"Remember this feeling."
Lin Feng's body jolted.
"Let it be your fuel."
After saying that, Kobe turned and walked out of the locker room without looking back.
Remember this feeling.
Let it be your fuel.
Those words hit Lin Feng's nerves like an electric current.
He clenched his fists.
Back at the hotel.
Lin Feng threw himself onto the bed. The lights in the room were off, with only the city lights from outside filtering in, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
He turned on his phone.
On the internet, news about him was already everywhere.
Iron-Blooded Grizzlies Crush the Purple and Gold Fairy Tale, the New King from the East is Exposed!"
"3-of-15! Lin Feng's Magic Vanishes in Memphis!"
Tony Allen: I Let Him Know What the Real NBA Is Like!"
The comment section below was even more of a frenzy.
"Hyped to the heavens, I thought he was so great, but this is it?"
"Softie! He folds as soon as there's any physical contact!"
"Hurry up and go back to dating your diva; basketball isn't for you!"
Lin Feng looked at these words expressionlessly and turned off the screen.
A fire was suppressed in his chest—a fire mixed with anger, resentment, and humiliation.
He needed an outlet.
He needed a breakthrough.
Wait—
The phone vibrated.
It was a new text message.
From Taylor Swift.
"I watched the game."
Those few words made Lin Feng's heart skip a beat.
He thought a few comforting words would follow.
Like "Don't worry about it" or "You were already great."
But he was wrong.
The phone screen lit up again, and a second message followed immediately.
"When an artist hits a bottleneck, what they need is an ultimate experience, not cheap sympathy."
Lin Feng's pupils dilated slightly.
He stared at the line of text on the screen, his breath hitching.
An ultimate experience... not cheap sympathy... This woman, she actually... understands him?
Before he could reply, a third message arrived.
"Come to my recording studio."
"Let me see your other side."
This message was like a bolt of lightning, precisely cutting through all the fog and suppression in Lin Feng's heart.
What he needed was never comfort.
What he needed was power!
The power to tear through any defense and crush any opponent!
It was [Daiki Aomine's Formless Shot]!
And Taylor, this woman at the top of the vanity fair, had handed him the key to the door of power in the most direct and seductive way.
Lin Feng sprang up from the bed.
All his hesitation, resentment, and anger vanished in an instant.
In their place was an unprecedented resolve and desire.
He didn't hesitate for a second.
He picked up his phone and opened an airline app.
He booked the last flight of the night from Memphis back to Los Angeles... Late at night, Los Angeles, Hollywood Hills.
A taxi stopped in front of a secluded villa.
Lin Feng paid and got out, finding an unassuming side door according to the address in Taylor's message.
He took out the black metal card and swiped it on the access control.
"Beep."
The door unlocked.
He took out the silver key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it.
"Click."
He pushed the door open.
A warm breeze, mixed with incense and a faint scent of alcohol, wafted over him.
The room was dimly lit, with only a few floor lamps casting a soft glow.
Sultry jazz music flowed softly through the air.
Taylor Swift was standing by the bar not far away.
She had changed out of her formal attire and was wearing a sexy black silk robe with a perfectly cut V-neck that outlined breathtaking curves.
A pair of snowy white, slender legs were partially visible beneath the silk hem.
She wore no makeup, and her long blonde hair was draped casually over her shoulders, looking more languid and authentic than she had at the party.
Seeing Lin Feng, her red lips curled into a charming arc.
She picked up a glass of red wine already poured on the bar and walked toward him step by step, barefoot on the soft carpet.
The burgundy liquid swirled gently in the glass.
She stopped in front of Lin Feng and handed him the glass.
Her blue eyes, in the dim light, seemed to be covered in a mist, dreamy and alluring.
"Tonight, forget basketball."
She spoke, her voice carrying a hint of tipsy raspiness.
"We'll only talk about art and inspiration."
Chapter 45: Tearing Through the Bottleneck! Unlocked, Formless Shot!
Lin Feng's gaze fell into Taylor's blue eyes, which seemed to contain an entire starry sky.
"Tonight, forget about basketball."
Her voice, like the richest cello, resonated in the quiet air.
"We only talk about art and inspiration."
Lin Feng didn't speak.
He reached out and took the glass filled with wine-red liquid from between her fair fingers.
The touch of their fingertips brought a hint of coolness, yet also a hint of warmth.
He raised the glass to his lips, looked into her eyes, and drained the red wine in one gulp.
The pungent liquid slid down his throat into his stomach, a wave of warmth rising from his abdomen and quickly spreading throughout his limbs.
The coldness and humiliation from that arena in Memphisseemed to be dispelled by this warm current at this moment.
Taylor watched him finish drinking, the curve of her lips deepening.
She took the empty glass from his hand and placed it casually on the side table.
"It seems you're also an artist who likes to be direct."
She turned around and walked barefoot toward the center of the recording studio.
There, an acoustic guitar leaned quietly against the sofa.
"A loss in a game, for an athlete, is like a writer encountering writer's block."
Taylor picked up the guitar and casually plucked the strings, producing a crisp chord.
"The more you want to write, the more you can't."
"The more you want to win, the more you can't."
She sat on a soft high stool, holding the guitar in her arms, her posture elegant and professional.
"At times like this, you need something else for stimulation."
Lin Feng watched her quietly without interrupting.
He knew that this woman was analyzing him, and herself, in her own way.
"For example?" he finally spoke, his voice a bit raspy.
Taylor looked up, her blue eyes strikingly bright under the soft light.
"For example, an unfinished song."
After she spoke, her slender fingers began to dance across the strings.
A soft melody, yet tinged with a bit of blurred wildness and rebellion, began to flow through the room.
It wasn't any of her already released songs.
It was a brand new melody, belonging only to this moment.
Then, she began to sing.
Her voice was no longer the powerful and penetrating voice of a diva on stage.
Instead, it carried a hint of laziness and murmuring, like a whisper in a midnight dream.
"Silhouettes under the neon lights, like a meteor streaking across the sky..."
"They give you a crown, but also shackles..."
"You are a burning fire on the court, yet silent in the crowd..."
Lin Feng's body stiffened.
Every word, every line of the song, was like a precise scalpel, cutting through his disguise and reaching his truest inner self.
That was his game-winner at the Staples Center.
That was him being the center of attention at the party.
It was also that uncomprehended loneliness when he was alone.
"I see the storm in your eyes, and the pride at the corners of your mouth..."
"They want to see you fall, want to see you tamed by an iron cage..."
"But I know, you are a struggling beast, longing to tear apart all restraints..."
The singing continued.
Lin Feng's heart, however, was beating violently.
She understood.
This woman actually truly understood him.
What she saw wasn't the glamorous New King of the Los Angeles Lakers, nor the rumored boyfriend in the entertainment tabloids.
She saw the loser in Memphis who had been defended to the point of self-doubt.
She saw the Lin Feng who was heavily struck early in his career and felt inferior inside.
She also saw the real Lin Feng who, after obtaining the system, desperately craved power and longed to prove himself.
Music, at this moment, became the most miraculous medium.
It crossed the barriers of language and culture, allowing two souls who both stood at the pinnacle of fame and fortune and bore immense pressure to resonate at the deepest level.
In Lin Feng's mind, that faint, lingering sense of guilt toward Yinna, who was far away in South Korea, was washed away completely by this intense resonance.
He cast aside all distracting thoughts.
The loss of the game, the external ridicule, the uncertainty of the future... none of it mattered anymore.
What mattered was the person in front of him.
What mattered was seizing this key that could allow him to tear through the bottleneck.
The melody gradually ceased.
The last note dissipated into the air.
Taylor didn't speak; she just held the guitar and watched him quietly, waiting for his reaction.
Lin Feng put down the empty wine glass and stood up.
He walked over step by step until he was behind Taylor.
He didn't speak.
He simply reached out his arms and from behind, gently yet firmly, embraced her.
His chest pressed tightly against her thin, soft back.
He could feel her body tremble slightly at that moment.
The guitar made a faint muffled sound.
Taylor stopped playing.
She didn't look back, nor did she struggle.
The next second, all the strength in her body seemed to be drained away as her soft body leaned back, nestling completely into Lin Feng's arms.
Her head rested on his shoulder.
Her golden hair brushed against his cheek, carrying a captivating fragrance.
"This song is still missing an ending."
Her voice was as light as a feather, brushing against Lin Feng's ear.
Lin Feng lowered his head, his lips close to her ear.
"Now, has the inspiration arrived?"
His voice was deep and magnetic.
Taylor's body trembled again.
She slowly turned around in Lin Feng's arms to face him.
The distance between them was so close that their breaths intertwined.
In her blue eyes, the light shimmered like a blurry mist.
"It's here."
She breathed out the word.
Then, she proactively stood on her tiptoes and kissed Lin Feng's lips.
It was soft and warm, with the mellow taste of red wine and her unique fragrance.
This kiss ignited all the ambiguous emotions that had already accumulated to their peak in the room.
Lin Feng no longer suppressed himself.
He took the initiative, responding to the kiss forcefully.
From testing, to entangling, to almost plundering.
He picked Taylor up in his arms.
Taylor let out a startled cry, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
The black silk robe traced a breathtaking arc in the air.
Lin Feng carried her, striding toward the depths of the room.
The jazz music was still flowing softly.
The guitar, left behind on the floor, lay quietly on the soft carpet.
Outside the window, the lights of Hollywood Hillsformed a brilliant galaxy.
This was a deep exchange of soul and flesh.
It was an ultimate collision between two top artists seeking inspiration and a breakthrough.
In the most intense release of emotion, at the moment when both soul and body seemed to burn to their highest point.
In Lin Feng's mind, that cold, mechanical system notification sounded without warning, yet as expected.
[Ding! Detected that the host has completed a deep intimate link with the ss-rank charm target 'Taylor Swift'!]
Immediately after, an even more brilliant blue stream of light exploded within the depths of his consciousness!
[Congratulations to the host for completing the second 'first night achievement'! Awarded SSS-rank skill pack — Aomine Daikis Formless Shot!]
Chapter 46: The Unorthodox Storm Descends!
The mechanical prompt faded into the depths of his consciousness.
The next moment, an unimaginably massive torrent of information, like a flood bursting through a dam, poured arrogantly into Lin Feng's mind.
It wasn't simple knowledge or images.
It was something more fundamental.
It was a total subversion and reshaping of his perception of his body, basketball, and space!
His body tensed uncontrollably, muscle fibers quivering, and his bones let out faint creaks.
Brand new muscle memory was being forcibly written, overwritten, and fused.
In Lin Feng's mind, countless inconceivable shooting motion images flashed and intersected.
Extreme fadeaways.
Releasing the ball with his body twisted to the limit.
Even tossing the ball into the hoop from behind the backboard at an impossible angle.
These movements were no longer exaggerated performances from an animation; they had become an instinct of his body.
He felt his control over every muscle, every joint, and every ligament reach an unfathomable new realm.
He closed his eyes.
A clear scene took shape in his mind.
He could "see" himself lying on his bedroom floor, using an extremely awkward posture to shoot a virtual basketball with one hand, sending it into a virtual hoop on the ceiling in a perfect arc.
Every detail of the process—how the muscles exerted force, how the wrist flicked—was crystal clear.
This was the Formless Shot.
A way of scoring that utilized physical talent and ball feel to the extreme, ignoring rules and form—the freest way to score.
It didn't need space.
It didn't need tactics.
All it needed was to get the ball into that person's hands.
Lin Feng opened his eyes, his consciousness returning to this recording studio filled with an ambiguous atmosphere.
Taylor's soft body was still nestled in his arms, her breathing steady; she seemed to have exhausted all her strength in the intense collision earlier and had fallen into a deep sleep.
He looked down at her peaceful sleeping face, her golden hair scattered across his chest.
This night, this woman, had opened a door to a whole new world for him... The next morning.
When the first ray of sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting mottled bands of light across the room, Lin Feng opened his eyes.
He was awake.
Clearer than he had ever been.
His body was filled with an unprecedented sense of power and coordination, as if every cell was cheering.
The fatigue from the previous night had vanished, replaced by an overflowing excitement and energy.
The entire world felt different in his perception.
He could clearly hear the car horns from the street outside and distinguish the unique blend of scents from the incense, the red wine, and Taylor herself.
The beauty beside him stirred and slowly woke up as well.
Taylor opened those charming blue eyes and saw Lin Feng watching her; instead of being shy, she generously offered a lazy morning kiss.
"Good morning, my artist."
Her voice carried the unique huskiness of the early morning, sexy and captivating.
Lin Feng smiled.
"Good morning."
Taylor sat up in bed, her silk nightgown sliding down to reveal a large expanse of snow-white skin and perfect shoulder and neck lines.
She didn't mind, instead reaching for the notebook and pen that had been on the nightstand, then picking up the guitar that had been left behind last night.
She leaned against Lin Feng, barefoot, placing the guitar on her lap and casually plucking a few chords.
A new melody, brighter and more whimsical than the one from last night, flowed from her fingertips.
As she played, she wrote something in her notebook, humming out-of-tune lyrics under her breath.
She was completely immersed in her creative world.
Lin Feng didn't disturb her, simply watching this scene quietly.
This woman was a radiant diva on stage, but in private, she was a pure artist who lived for inspiration.
After a long while, Taylor stopped, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.
She turned her head to look at Lin Feng and waved the notebook in her hand.
"I have the chorus for the new song."
"Oh?" Lin Feng asked curiously, "Can I hear it?"
Taylor cleared her throat, held her guitar, and began to hum softly in her unique voice.
"You got that James Dean, daydream look in your eye..."
(You have that melancholic James Dean look in your eyes)
"And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like..."
(And I have that classic red lip that you love)
"And when we crashed, we came back each time..."
(When we fall apart, we come back every time)
"Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style..."
(Because we never go out of style)
The singing was light and the melody was catchy, filled with the unruly and flamboyant spirit of youth.
After finishing, Taylor looked at Lin Feng with bright eyes.
"What do you think?"
"It's great," Lin Feng praised sincerely.
"I've thought of the name for this song." Taylor put down the guitar and wrote a word on the title page of the notebook with her pen.
Then, she showed the notebook to Lin Feng.
Written on it was — "Style".
"For you, my dear wild boy," she said with a smile, her eyes full of mischief and admiration.
Lin Feng looked at the word, then at her.
In this moment, their relationship entered a new, tacitly understood stage.
No promises, no restraints.
Just two souls at the top of their respective fields, attracting and fulfilling each other... That night, Staples Center.
The Lakers hosted the Phoenix Suns.
The atmosphere in the locker room was somewhat heavy.
The crushing defeat against the Grizzlies in the previous game had everyone on the team feeling a surge of pent-up determination.
head coach D'Antoni was arranging tactics; he walked up to Lin Feng with a look of concern on his face.
"Lin, you flew back from Memphis overnight. Can your body handle it?"
The defeat in Memphis, combined with the fatigue of the long flight, made D'Antoni worry about Lin Feng's condition.
"How about you come off the bench tonight to reduce your playing time and adjust?"
He was acting out of good intentions.
However, Lin Feng shook his head.
He looked up, meeting his head coach's gaze calmly.
But beneath that calm was a sense of power that even D'Antoni found startling.
"Coach."
Lin Feng spoke; his tone wasn't heavy, but it carried an unquestionable weight.
"Let me play the entire first quarter."
D'Antoni was stunned.
He looked into Lin Feng's eyes; there was no confusion or anxiety from the last game, only pure confidence and a nearly cruel desire.
It was the look of a beast that had been hungry for too long and had finally spotted its prey.
"Tonight will be different," Lin Feng added.
D'Antoni was silent for a few seconds.
In Lin Feng, he saw something similar to Kobe.
That paranoid, absolute desire for control over victory.
He finally nodded.
"Alright."
The whistle blew to start the game.
Staples Center was brightly lit, and the fans' cheers were deafening.
The Suns' coach had clearly studied the footage of the Lakers' previous game.
From the start, they assigned the team's fiercest defender, P.J. Tucker, to play full-court press on him.
The same strategy, the same tight pressure.
History seemed about to repeat itself.
The Lakers' first offensive possession.
Lin Feng held the ball at the top of the arc, facing Tucker, who was pressing against him like a bull.
He didn't rush to break free like in the previous game, nor did he choose to pass.
He simply made a jab step to the right.
Tucker's center of gravity shifted immediately.
Now!
Lin Feng executed a sudden reverse crossover, the basketball tracing a lightning-fast arc between his legs.
His first step was shockingly fast!
Tucker felt his vision blur; Lin Feng had already brushed past his left side like a gust of wind!
Blown by in one step!
The Suns' center, Gortat, rushed over to help defend.
Lin Feng didn't slow down; a step inside the free-throw line, he jumped directly toward Gortat's raised arms.
His body collided violently with Gortat in mid-air.
"Bang!"
A dull thud echoed.
Lin Feng's body was knocked out of balance, and he fell backward uncontrollably.
The fans at Staples Center let out a collective gasp.
Everyone thought this would be a failed drive or even an offensive foul.
However, just a moment before his body hit the floor.
Using a posture that completely defied the laws of human mechanics, Lin Feng gave his wrist a light flick.
The basketball was tossed out casually from an incredibly low position.
Chapter 47: This Isn't Shooting, This Is Juggling!
The basketball drew a bizarre arc in the air that completely defied the common laws of physics.
It didn't even look like it was flying toward the hoop, but rather drawing a question mark in the air.
At this moment, time slowed down infinitely.
The twenty thousand fans in the Staples Centercollectively lost their voices.
The reporters on the sidelines, holding their cameras, forgot to press the shutter.
Even the players running on the court subconsciously stopped in their tracks, looking up at that ridiculous basketball.
"Swish!"
The crisp, pleasant sound of the basketball hitting nothing but the net broke the eerie silence.
The sound wasn't loud.
Yet it felt like a heavy hammer striking everyone's heart.
The ball went in.
The entire Staples Center fell into a dead silence for three full seconds.
And then...
Cheers like a volcanic eruption exploded!
"HOLY SHIT!"
"What happened?! How did he do that?!"
"God! What am I seeing?!"
On the floor, P.J. Tucker and Marcin Gortat, the two defenders who looked fierce just a moment ago, were now staring blankly at the slightly swaying net with their heads tilted back.
Gortat's mind went blank.
He was certain that his body had collided solidly with Lin Feng.
That kind of force was enough to make any guard lose all control over their body.
But he actually managed to throw the ball out while falling?
And it even went in?
This couldn't be real.
This must be a hallucination.
On the other side of the Suns, Goran Dragic, this future All-Star guard, had his mouth slightly open.
He couldn't understand it.
He completely couldn't understand what had just happened.
That move couldn't be categorized into any known basketball technique.
That wasn't a shot.
That was... magic.
"AND ONE!"
The referee's firm gesture and loud whistle pulled everyone's thoughts back to reality.
The basket counts, plus a free throw!
At the commentary table...
Legendary commentator Marv Albert, an old man who had witnessed countless miracles from Jordan, Magic, and Kobe, paused for a full three seconds.
He seemed to be searching for a suitable word to describe the scene before him.
Finally, using his signature, slightly raspy voice, he almost roared it out.
"OH! YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"
"Can you believe it?!"
"This can't even be called a shot! This is a juggling act! A bizarre, inconceivable court-side juggling act from the East!"
His partner, Chris Webber, was also shaking his head repeatedly with his mouth wide open.
"I've played ball my whole life, Marv, and I've never seen a shot like this."
"He completely lost his balance in the air, his eyes weren't even on the hoop, he just... tossed it."
"This... this isn't scientific."
On the sidelines, Suns head coach Jeff Hornacek, like an enraged lion, roared crazily at the referee.
"Travel! That's definitely a travel!"
"He fell! His movement was distorted! This couldn't possibly be a legal shooting motion!"
"Are you blind?!"
The referee of the game walked up to him expressionless, spreading his hands.
"Jeff, calm down."
"He released the ball after being fouled but before losing control of his body."
"It's a clean, perfect 'AND ONE'."
"If you continue to roar, I'll give you a technical foul."
Hornacek was red in the face with anger, but helpless, he could only kick the air in frustration.
The Los Angeles Lakers bench had already completely exploded.
Robert Sacre, the Los Angeles Lakers' chief towel-waver, held his head and ran back and forth on the sidelines screaming like a madman.
Nick Young was even more exaggerated.
He lay directly on the floor, imitating Lin Feng's falling posture, comically throwing the towel in his hand into the air while shouting.
"Swaggy! This is the unsolvable Swaggy!"
Veterans Pau Gasol and Steve Nash looked at each other, seeing unmaskable shock and a hint of wry amusement in each other's eyes.
This kid has evolved again.
And in a way they completely couldn't understand.
Among everyone, one person's reaction was the most special.
Kobe Bryant.
He sat on the sidelines, not cheering or clapping.
He just leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked firmly on Lin Feng as he slowly stood up from the floor.
In his eyes, for the first time, it wasn't scrutiny or testing, but a pure shock from seeing something beyond imagination.
He had witnessed his own countless incredible game-winners.
He had also witnessed Jordan's hang-time while battling the world in mid-air.
But he had never seen a shot like this.
It was something that completely transcended the realms of technique and training.
It was a... brutal display of talent.
Lin Feng stood at the free-throw line.
He patted the basketball, his expression frighteningly calm, as if that earth-shattering shot was just an ordinary layup.
He raised his hand and flicked the ball.
The basketball drew a perfect arc.
"Swish."
Nothing but net again.
Three-point play completed!
In the first attack of the game, he scored three points in the most shocking and unreasonable way.
The Suns players' faces were filled with bewilderment.
They hadn't yet recovered from the massive impact of that shot.
Dragic took the ball out from the baseline.
Nash immediately stuck to him like gum.
The two-time MVP used his rich experience and precise judgment of timing to constantly interfere with Dragicthrough body and words.
"Hey, kid, do you see where your teammates are?"
"Be careful, your shoelaces seem to be untied."
Dragic was flustered and eager to pass the ball.
He saw a teammate cutting in and, in a hurry, threw a cross-court pass.
"Snap!"
Nash appeared on the passing lane like a ghost, easily completing the steal.
The Staples Center erupted again!
Turnover!
The Suns' rhythm was completely disrupted by that previous shot!
Nash unhurriedly controlled the ball to the frontcourt.
He didn't organize the play himself but stopped at the top of the arc.
He turned his head and glanced at Lin Feng beside him.
His eyes were full of inquiry, expectation, and a hint of... awe that he hadn't even noticed himself.
As if asking: Was that just luck, or... your new weapon?
Lin Feng met his gaze.
He said nothing.
Only a confident, almost arrogant smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Then, he nodded slightly to Nash.
Nash understood instantly.
He understood.
That wasn't luck.
Starting tonight, the Los Angeles Lakers' script was going to be rewritten.
This stage no longer belonged to him and Kobe.
It would belong to this young man before him.
The Suns' defensive strategy didn't change.
head coach Hornacek shouted from the sidelines, convinced that the previous shot was 100% luck.
"Double-team him! Go up and double-team him!"
"Pressure him! Don't let him catch the ball comfortably!"
P.J. Tucker charged at Lin Feng again like an angry bull, pressing his chest firmly against him.
Meanwhile, Dragic also gave up on guarding Nash and quickly closed in from the other side.
A double-team, once again, surged toward Lin Feng unreasonably!