2012 · Los Angeles · Training Facility
The first sign wasn't a conversation.
It was a chair.
An extra one, placed near the baseline—slightly off to the side, close enough to see angles, far enough to avoid attention.
No logo.
No clipboard on display.
Just a man in a neutral jacket, legs crossed, watching without reacting.
Gu Kai noticed him midway through warm-ups.
He didn't stare.
He didn't need to.
The air felt different when someone watched without rooting for anyone.
---
The run started fast.
Not rushed—decisive.
The ball moved side to side. Screens came early. Cuts were sharper than the day before.
Gu Kai checked in with the second unit first.
No complaints.
He played the same way he had learned to.
Early reads.
Clean spacing.
No wasted dribbles.
On the third possession, the defense switched aggressively.
Gu Kai didn't fight it.
He slipped the ball to the wing, cut hard through the lane, and dragged two defenders with him.
A corner opened.
Hit.
The man on the chair didn't move.
---
Two possessions later, Gu Kai was back at the top.
Same defender as yesterday.
Long arms. Patient feet.
Gu Kai jabbed once, waited, then attacked the outside shoulder.
The lane closed fast.
He didn't force it.
He stopped short and floated the ball to the dunker spot.
Finish.
Still no reaction.
---
Midway through the run, the coach changed the lineup.
Gu Kai stayed on.
That alone said enough.
The pace rose another level.
Hands were active.
Contact was constant.
Gu Kai took a hit on one drive, lost the ball, and sprinted back without looking at the referee.
He cut off the break, forced a pass, and the ball went out of bounds.
The man on the chair leaned forward—just slightly.
---
Late in the run, the score tightened.
One possession left.
No one called a play.
Gu Kai drifted up from the corner again.
The ball found him.
Two defenders shaded his drive.
He saw it early.
He swung the ball, relocated, and cut behind the help.
The return pass came clean.
Gu Kai finished through contact.
The whistle blew.
Run over.
---
The gym settled into a low hum.
Players rotated out. Water bottles opened. Shoes squeaked on the sideline.
The coach walked over to the baseline.
He didn't look at Gu Kai.
He looked at the chair.
"You see enough?" he asked.
The man stood.
"Yeah," he said. "I did."
He turned to leave, then stopped.
"Who's the big guard?" he asked casually.
The coach didn't hesitate.
"Gu Kai."
The man nodded once.
"That's what I thought."
Then he walked out.
---
Gu Kai sat down and untied his shoes.
His hands were steady.
The system interface appeared—quiet, informational.
---
[External Attention Detected]
[Observer Type: Professional Scout]
[Evaluation Status: Ongoing]
[Note]
Being watched does not change your task.
It only raises the cost of mistakes.
---
Gu Kai stood and slung his bag over his shoulder.
This wasn't an offer.
It wasn't a promise.
It was something more dangerous.
Interest.
He glanced back at the baseline.
The chair was gone.
But the line it represented remained.
And now—
He knew exactly where he stood in relation to it.