The Staples Center was electric on the evening of December 13, stars filling the courtside seats for the most anticipated showdown of the season.
In the underground parking lot, fate seemed to enjoy playing games—the two team buses stopped side by side.
Zhao Dong was the first to step off. Hands in his pockets, a calm smile on his face, he casually walked to the front of the Lakers' bus and waited.
"Boss."
The Trail Blazers players quickly gathered behind him.
Under Zhao Dong's leadership, Portland had turned into a terrifying powerhouse, holding the league's best record. The locker room dynamic could be summed up in one word: submission.
Just like the Knicks during Zhao Dong's reign, this was now his team—a united army forged under his rule. He had taken what was once jokingly called "the future prison team" and transformed it into a juggernaut capable of steamrolling anyone.
Inside the Lakers' bus, Shaquille O'Neal caught sight of Zhao Dong through the window.
"Is he trying to pull that stunt again?" O'Neal muttered, clearly annoyed.
"What do we do, Phil?" he asked head coach Phil Jackson, who was following behind him.
"Just ignore him," Kobe Bryant called out from behind, sounding impatient.
But Phil Jackson, as calm as ever, simply adjusted his glasses, then walked forward with his usual Zen-like smile.
"Hey, Zhao Dong," Phil said, extending his hand. "Welcome to Staples."
Zhao Dong laughed and shook his hand firmly. "Coach Jackson, we're here to win tonight."
"We want to win too," Kobe interjected loudly, stepping up.
Zhao Dong turned to him, frowning playfully. "Children shouldn't interrupt when adults are talking."
"Pffft!"
Even Phil Jackson and Larry Bird, who had just arrived with the Blazers, burst out laughing.
Kobe's face turned crimson, veins popping on his forehead. "Who's a kid?! I'm only a year younger than you—and I'm getting married soon, you old man!"
Zhao Dong grinned. "I already have four sons. Come on, Kobe, catch up to me—have four sons too. Don't lose to me."
Patting Kobe on the shoulder, Zhao Dong turned and left with his teammates.
Kobe glared at his back, seething. "This bastard. It's our home court tonight—we're going to kill him!"
The Lakers players nodded in unison, fired up.
Kobe felt a rare moment of solidarity with his teammates—something he hadn't experienced in a while. His relationship with the locker room, and even with management, had been strained lately.
Since last November, he had been dating Vanessa Laine, a high school girl he had fallen in love with at first sight. They planned to marry this year, but nobody approved—his family, the team, even some teammates opposed it. That frustration weighed on him every day.
Why couldn't he just love who he wanted? Why did they think they could control his life?
---
The Starting Lineups
At 8:00 PM, the teams announced their starting fives:
Trail Blazers: Shaquille O'Neal, Danny Fortson, Brian Grant, Eddie Jones, Zhao Dong.
Lakers: Shaquille O'Neal, David Robinson, Rick Fox, Kobe Bryant, Ron Harper.
Larry Bird had made an adjustment, starting Fortson and Grant together to strengthen the paint defense. The plan was clear—limit the Lakers' twin towers.
The trade-off? Perimeter defense would take a hit. But with a 2–1–2 zone, Grant and Fortson could clog the low post, O'Neal would anchor the middle, and Zhao Dong plus Eddie Jones could rotate quickly to contest shooters. It wasn't perfect, but it was workable.
---
Commentary Hype
The lineup announcement set off a wave of heated discussions in the broadcast booths.
On TNT, Charles Barkley grinned. "Except for Shaq—who's decent but not great defensively—the Blazers are starting four elite defenders. Fortson and Grant are both 115 kilos, strong enough to bang with the Lakers' bigs. Larry Bird clearly wants to grind this one out."
Kenny Smith nodded. "This is the Lakers' home court, and they've been chanting 'Kill the Gods.' Tonight's gonna be a dogfight."
"Absolutely," Barkley chuckled. "The Lakers have the better top-heavy lineup, but Portland has depth. No clear favorite here."
On CCTV, Zhang Heli analyzed, "Starting both Grant and Fortson shows Larry Bird is playing for the win. Zhao Dong will almost certainly match up against Kobe on the perimeter tonight."
Su Qun added, "Ron Harper is 36, injury-prone, and close to retirement. He won't be much of a factor."
At 8:15, the players walked onto the court to deafening chants:
"Kill the gods! Kill the gods! Kill the gods!"
Unlike most arenas, there were no boos for Zhao Dong—only unified, hostile cheers. Lakers fans were on a mission tonight.
Zhao Dong smirked, scanning the stands. "Damn it, I'm gonna slaughter you guys tonight!" he shouted, jogging onto the hardwood.
Up in the VIP section, Magic Johnson turned to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
"The Lakers' Big Three just need to play together," Magic said confidently. "If they do, they can beat anyone."
Jabbar nodded. "We're too strong in the paint. If we survive when the starters sit, we've got this."
During warmups, Zhao Dong greeted Magic and Jabbar, then noticed Vanessa sitting courtside. He smirked, recalling the future—Kobe's wedding, the lack of family support, the awkwardness that would follow.
"Hey, Kobe," Zhao Dong called. "That your girlfriend?"
Kobe stiffened but nodded. "Yeah."
Zhao Dong gave him a simple nod and walked back to the bench.
Kobe watched him go, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. If Zhao Dong—the league's most respected star—had publicly approved, maybe things would be easier. But no matter what anyone said, Kobe wasn't giving up on Vanessa.
---
Tip-Off
At 8:30, the game began. O'Neal won the tip, and the Lakers went on the attack.
"Oh, look!" Su Qun shouted excitedly on CCTV. "Zhao Dong is defending Kobe directly!"
Zhang Heli smiled. "The Blazers have been running a 'God-Killing' inside-out scheme, but the Lakers stick to Phil Jackson's triangle—Shaq remains the primary option, with Kobe and David Robinson as secondary threats.
But no matter the system, Kobe's penetration is crucial. If Zhao Dong can lock him down, the Blazers have a real shot tonight."
"Kobe, you want the ball? Can't get it, huh?" Zhao Dong smirked, trash talk dripping from his voice.
Kobe didn't even glance at him. Focused, locked in, he simply snorted and extended his hand at the top of the arc, demanding the ball.
But Ron Harper ignored him. Sticking to Phil Jackson's system, Harper looked for Shaquille O'Neal first.
On the right wing, David Robinson pulled Brian Grant out of the paint. Down low, left block, Shaq sealed off Danny Fortson, backing him toward the rim. Harper lobbed it in, and Shaq snatched the ball with one massive hand.
In the middle, Portland's Shaq—O'Neal's teammate now opponent—dropped down from the weak side, ready to double-team.
Boom!
Shaq dribbled once, lowering his shoulder like a tank. His sheer weight and power sent Fortson stumbling backward, losing his defensive position.
Taking a giant step into the restricted area, Shaq rose like a beast, cocking the ball back with one arm for the thunderous slam.
Bang!
The ball ricocheted hard off the rim—Shaq's timing slightly off thanks to Portland's second O'Neal's contest.
"Ohhh!" Gasps of frustration swept through Staples Center.
The ball bounced high. Both O'Neal's leapt. Air collided with mass, and the heavier Shaq bulldozed his counterpart mid-air, grabbing the offensive rebound.
"Ahhhh!" Shaq roared, gathering himself for a two-handed monster dunk.
But before he could finish, Fortson smacked his forearm hard, knocking the ball loose.
Tweet! The whistle blew.
Barkley laughed on TNT. "You let the Big Diesel catch it that deep, only one way to stop him—hack him!"
Panting, Shaq trudged to the free-throw line. That first bruising possession had already drained a chunk of energy.
From near half-court, Zhao Dong called out with a grin. "Shaq, I bet you brick both."
Shaq glared. "Zhao Dong, you wanna Hack-a-Shaq me? Go ahead, I don't care!"
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "Really?"
Shaq froze, realizing what he'd just implied. Quickly, he tried to save face. "Man, you're the efficiency king. You'd never use such cheap tactics!"
Tweet! The ref tossed him the ball.
Shaq took his time, wiping sweat, staring at the rim. Finally, he released.
Bang! Short.
"Get ready for the board!" Zhao Dong yelled as the ball clanged off.
Shaq whipped his head around, glaring at him.
Second shot—bang… roll… in! Staples Center erupted in applause.
"Ha-ha!" Shaq shook his head, soaking in the cheers.
---
Fortson grabbed the ball immediately, retreating to the baseline. With no hesitation, he fired a long two-hand pass to Zhao Dong.
At the arc, Kobe tried to cut him off, arms outstretched, but Zhao Dong stiff-armed him effortlessly.
Thud!
One smooth motion—catch, spin, cross half-court. Zhao Dong powered toward the rim like a freight train.
Ron Harper, delayed by Eddie Jones' screen, rotated late.
BOOM!
Zhao Dong detonated a soaring one-handed slam, silencing Staples Center for a split second before scattered applause broke out, even from Lakers fans who appreciated greatness.
This was Larry Bird's plan—run them out of the gym.
Fortson, who knew Zhao Dong's game inside-out, had been inserted into the starting lineup precisely for this reason. His fast-break chemistry and passing were crucial.
2–1, Portland led.
---
Lakers Adjust
Phil Jackson immediately barked from the sideline, signaling a new set—attack from the wing.
The first post-up had been exposed. Double-teams clogged Shaq, so Phil wanted to leverage Kobe and Robinson's gravity to free up the big man.
If that failed, he'd revert to the twin towers pounding the paint. But Phil was stubborn; he wanted to diversify the offense.
Coming upcourt, Harper handed off to Kobe.
The Lakers' firepower was unmatched—three legit superstars who could warp defenses. Only the Nets rivaled that.
As Kobe dribbled, Zhao Dong locked in front of him. Shaq watched from the low block, ready to dive. The whole tactic hinged on Kobe blowing by Zhao Dong.
---
Zhao Dong pressed up, smirking. "Go ahead, Kobe. I'm not even contesting your jumper. Just shoot the three."
Kobe's eyes narrowed. Against most teams, he'd bully his way inside. Against Zhao Dong, he had to stay efficient—no wild threes unless he was shooting at a 50% clip.
But this was Kobe Bryant—arrogant, fearless, unshakable.
So he rose, pulling up for a deep three right in Zhao Dong's face.
Zhao Dong barely had time to turn his head.
Swish!
The net snapped clean.
"…Damn it!" Zhao Dong cursed, shaking his head as Kobe jogged back with that signature cold-blooded smirk.
When Zhao Dong pushed for a fast break, Kobe, who had just knocked down a three-pointer, didn't celebrate. Instead, he immediately turned back on defense. That alone showed how wary he was of Zhao Dong's transition game.
"Looks like Kobe's having a tough time tonight."
Zhao Dong chuckled as he took Fordson's inbound pass and advanced steadily.
By the time he reached the top of the arc, the Lakers had already set up their defense.
It was a 3-2 zone, focusing on cutting off outside penetration.
Because of Zhao Dong's explosive driving ability—and with Eddie Jones being an All-Star who could also slash and shoot—the Lakers had three defenders stretched along the perimeter.
This didn't mean they were ignoring the paint; it was just that the Blazers didn't pose much of a ball-handling threat inside. Brian Grant and Fortson had almost no off-the-dribble game. O'Neal could attack from the low post, but his contact balance was limited; even with improved post-ups, most of his points came from short jumpers rather than rim attacks.
Meanwhile, the Lakers had Shaquille O'Neal and David Robinson holding down the low block, completely sealing off Portland's interior scoring. The real threat was from the outside, so that's where their defense focused.
Kobe crouched low, ready to cut off Zhao Dong's drive.
But the next second—
Whoosh!
Just as he bent his knees, Zhao Dong suddenly rose up for a jumper. Kobe's eyes widened in shock, snapping his head around only to see the ball swish cleanly through the net.
---
Up at the TNT commentary booth, Barkley burst out laughing.
"Everybody expected Zhao Dong to attack the rim. I mean, 80% of his points come from the paint or mid-range. He rarely shoots threes.
But don't forget—his three-point percentage is one of the league's best! Even Reggie Miller isn't as accurate as him."
Zhao Dong backpedaled with a grin. "Kobe, how about we turn this into a three-point contest tonight?"
"Bring it on! Who's scared of you?" Kobe shot back, defiant.
---
On the next Lakers possession, Ron Harper handled the ball while O'Neal prepared to seal deep inside. But before Shaq could even get position, Kobe rose again from the wing.
"Damn it!" Shaq cursed, rushing toward the paint to battle for a rebound.
But before he could even plant his feet—
Swish!
The net rippled again. Shaq turned, surprised. What's gotten into this kid? He's on fire tonight!
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. Kobe had just hit two straight threes over him with a simple pump-fake and pull-up. Losing face like this… unacceptable.
---
At the top of the arc, Kobe stepped into Zhao Dong's space again, talking trash.
"Zhao Dong, if you've got the guts, hit another one on me."
This time, Kobe stayed just half a step back, one hand right in Zhao Dong's face. His stance was perfect, cutting off both the drive and the shot.
But Zhao Dong didn't hesitate.
He rose for a pull-up jumper, smooth and effortless.
Kobe exploded upward, trying to contest with every ounce of his athleticism, but Zhao Dong's longer wingspan and higher release point kept the ball just out of reach.
The ball floated over Kobe's fingertips—
Splash!
Nothing but net.
---
Zhang Heli's voice grew animated on CCTV's commentary:
"What's happening tonight? Kobe just drained two threes over Zhao Dong from the right wing, and Zhao Dong answers with two threes from the top of the arc over Kobe. Are we watching a three-point contest here?"
Su Qun laughed. "Kobe's not as efficient as Zhao Dong from deep. If this really turns into a shooting duel, he's going to suffer."
Zhang Heli chuckled. "Shooting isn't just about percentages; it's about rhythm. Once you catch fire, the rim looks like the ocean!"
Su Qun nodded. He knew Zhang spoke from experience—after all, Zhang had been one of Asia's top power forwards in his playing days.
---
By the end of the first quarter, both stars had completely abandoned their team's original game plans, locked in a personal duel.
Kobe went 6-for-10, including 3-for-5 from beyond the arc. Despite Zhao Dong's tight one-on-one defense, Kobe still shot 60% and sank both free throws for 17 points.
Zhao Dong, on the other hand, had no restrictions. With unlimited touches, he went 11-for-15, including 3-for-5 from three and 3-for-3 at the line, racking up 28 points in just one quarter.
The Blazers led 39–31, up by eight on the road.
---
On TNT, Barkley was grinning ear to ear.
"Man, what a show. All jumpers tonight. Too bad neither of them broke the league's single-quarter scoring record."
Smith laughed. "That record's tough to touch. Remember 1978? David Thompson—Skywalker himself—scored 32 in a single quarter while chasing the scoring title against George Gervin, the Iceman.
Skywalker went 20-for-21 to start that game and finished with 73 points! Everyone thought the scoring crown was his."
Barkley nodded. "But the Iceman answered back the same day."
Smith continued, "Exactly. Seven hours later, Gervin played his final regular-season game. He started 0-for-6, zero points in six minutes, and everyone counted him out.
Then he exploded—20 points in the first half, 33 in the second quarter, finishing with 63 points. He broke Skywalker's fresh record the very same day. And to this day, no one's topped that single-quarter record."
---
Meanwhile, on the Lakers bench, Phil Jackson leaned toward Kobe, speaking calmly but firmly.
"Kobe, you're shooting well, but you've abandoned your drives. That's why we're trailing.
Look at Zhao Dong—his efficiency is higher than yours. You can't stop his outside shot in isolation.
If you keep trying to outgun him shot-for-shot, we'll be the ones paying for it."
But Kobe sat there, frustrated.
Why stop me when I'm hot? My shooting percentage is almost the same as his—it's just that he's taking more shots. The only reason my percentage is slightly lower is because of his length. Give me unlimited shots like him, and I'll torch them.
Phil's words felt like a leash tightening around him. Inside, Kobe was itching to break free, to let loose and bury bucket after bucket, blowing up Portland's defense.
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