After completing two thousand catch-and-shoot reps, Link was hanging on by his very last shred of willpower, barely managing not to collapse right there on the training facility floor.
His arms felt like they were filled with lead; every time he lifted them was a monumental effort. His legs were like two numb wooden posts, moving purely on muscle memory.
{Host, congratulations. Mission accomplished. Reward: Catch-and-Shoot } +10\% \\
{Skill Unlocked: Quick Shooter Lv1}
{Quick Shooter Lv1—Slightly increases the stability and release speed of catch-and-shoot attempts.} {(Effective time 15 minutes, Cooldown 6 hours)}
The system prompt sounded in his mind, but Link didn't even have the energy to check the specific attribute changes. All he could do was breathe—deeply, heavily—trying his best to ease the physical exhaustion.
Outside, the Los Angeles sky was still a deep indigo blue, with only a faint, barely visible glow of light gray showing on the eastern horizon.
It was four in the morning in L.A.
Link dragged his leaden legs out of the training facility, got on the night bus, and slowly made his way back to the rundown apartment.
The hallway was silent, and the sound of his heavy footsteps and slightly labored breathing seemed incredibly loud.
He fumbled for his key, deliberately moving slowly, opening the door as quietly as possible, terrified of waking Andrew or Amy, who were still asleep.
However, as soon as he pushed the door a crack, a beam of soft yellow light streamed out from the kitchen area.
Link paused for a moment. He gently pushed the door open, seeing Amy sitting at the small, old kitchen table. A desk lamp illuminated a heavy textbook spread out before her and a notebook covered in dense formulas.
Amy didn't seem to have heard Link come in. She was resting one hand on her forehead, absently twirling a pen with the other. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and her eyes were fixed on some point in the air, filled with exhaustion and worry.
She had clear dark circles under her eyes, obviously having pulled an all-nighter.
Link hesitated, then walked over, asking softly, "Amy? It's so late... you haven't gone to bed yet?"
Startled by the sudden voice, Amy snapped back to attention. Seeing it was Link, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She instinctively snapped shut an envelope lying on the table and covered it with her textbook.
"Link? You're back." She quickly lowered her gaze, her voice soft and husky from lack of sleep. "Training... was it rough?"
Amy tried to sound normal, but the forced calm only highlighted her inner worry.
"It's alright. I'm used to it." Link walked to the water cooler and poured a cup of water, his eyes catching the lingering fatigue on her face.
"You should really get some rest, though. You don't look so good."
"Yeah, some of this stuff is complex. I just wanted to get a little more studying in." Amy managed a faint smile, avoiding his eyes, and reached for the water cup on the table, her fingers seeming a little unsteady.
A brief silence settled between them.
"Do you train this late... every night?" Amy asked, breaking the quiet.
"Pretty much. Not enough time, so I have to squeeze it in," Link's voice was tired but level.
"That's amazing," Amy said softly, her tone full of admiration. "How are things looking for the next game?"
"Back-to-back, home against the Suns," Link sighed lightly, answering naturally. "Another tough matchup."
Link paused, a hint of subtle frustration in his voice. In a guaranteed high-intensity game like this, where both teams would be going all out, a marginal player like him would likely struggle to get the valuable playing time he got in the last game.
Sometimes, opportunity felt like water in the desert—precious and scarce. Besides preparing as hard as possible, he just needed to patiently wait for that moment, whenever it might arrive.
"They're fast and they shoot well. It'll be a real test for us," Link didn't mention his own situation, just stated the facts.
Amy nodded, half-understanding. Her gaze unconsciously drifted to the corner of the envelope peeking out from under the textbook, and her eyes dimmed slightly.
She took a deep breath, as if to shake something off, then stood up.
"Well, keep pushing, no matter what." Amy tried to make her voice sound cheerful. "It's really late. I won't keep you from getting some rest. You should get some sleep too."
"You as well. Don't stay up too late," Link also stood up and nodded.
Amy gathered the books and notebook on the table to head back to her room. Perhaps disoriented from the lack of sleep, she forgot the envelope lying under the textbook.
Amy didn't seem to notice. She walked straight to her room, hugging her things, and gently closed the door.
Link's eyes scanned the table by accident. The envelope clearly bore a hospital logo and the word "NOTICE," which made his eyes narrow slightly.
A piece of paper sticking out from the corner of the envelope seemed to list a dollar amount—a string of numbers that would be suffocating to any average family.
Link stood there, silently looking at the letter. It felt as if he could feel the heavy weight on Amy's shoulders through the paper.
"Ugh..." Link sighed. The sound contained a complex mix of emotions: sympathy, understanding, and the shared feeling of being two struggling souls in a big city.
Link didn't bend down to pick it up, nor did he try to look at any more details. He simply watched it for a few seconds, then looked away.
Everyone had their own burdens and secrets. He was still fighting for his own future and had no right to worry about others, Link thought, giving a self-deprecating smile.
Some difficulties are just too heavy to talk about easily; you have to deal with them alone.
Link said nothing. He neatly folded the letter, tucked it gently under Amy's backpack, and then quietly walked back to his own room and closed the door.
Because it was a back-to-back situation, the Lakers didn't schedule practice; the players were free to choose how to spend the day. Some teammates chose to unwind at bars and nightclubs. Link, short on cash and still fighting for his next contract, didn't join them.
Outside, the sky was slowly becoming clearer. The gray glow was gradually spreading, signaling that the sun was about to rise. The sprawling city of Los Angeles was about to wake up from its slumber.
Link was filled with a mix of emotions, deeply feeling the struggle of an NBA fringe player. Behind the glamorous stage were countless people like him, hustling desperately in corners no one saw.
Their fate hung by a thread; every opportunity could be their last.
What would the future hold? No one knew.
Link only knew that today, he had to walk back into the Staples Center and face a new challenge.
Finally, exhaustion won out over his scattered thoughts. Link's breathing became steady and deep, and before long, he drifted off to sleep.