"Eighty-one points! Zhao Dong is breaking his own scoring record!" Barkley's voice cracked with excitement in the TNT commentary booth.
But neither he, nor Smith, nor even Zhang Heli on CCTV, seemed to fully grasp what was coming. The giant screen inside Staples kept flashing Zhao Dong's updated scoring total, but no one dared say the unthinkable—yet.
---
The Lakers inbounded. Small forward Rick Fox stood at the baseline, ready to serve.
Zhao Dong, reading the play, wasn't watching Kobe. He locked in on Ron Harper instead, knowing Phil Jackson had started limiting Kobe's touches.
Fox bounced the ball up. The instant Harper moved, Zhao Dong lunged—his long arms snaking past Harper's reach.
"Ohhh!" The Staples crowd gasped.
The ball popped free, bouncing toward the basket. Fox, panicking, sprinted onto the court to chase it down.
Too late. Zhao Dong bulldozed Harper aside, reached the ball in two quick strides, spun past Fox, and rose off one foot.
Bang!
Another dunk. Another two points.
"Eighty-three points! Two straight steals out of the timeout—Zhao Dong's defense is incredible!" Zhang Heli shouted, nearly leaping from his chair.
"114 to 100, the Blazers are up 14. This game's pretty much sealed!" Su Qun added.
Phil Jackson stayed calm, arms crossed. No timeout. This isn't about tactics—it's about the players figuring it out themselves, he thought grimly.
---
Next possession, Harper passed off quickly, and Kobe finally got the ball.
"Give me the ball, Kobe!" O'Neal barked, frustrated, waving for a post touch.
"Yeah, listen to your boss," Zhao Dong mocked as he switched onto Kobe, grinning.
Kobe's eyes narrowed. He didn't respond—he just attacked.
He drove hard, then slammed the brakes. Zhao Dong slid back, but Kobe pulled up instantly.
Swish!
A long two dropped.
114–102. The Lakers trimmed the lead to 12 with 5:24 left.
---
Zhao Dong brought the ball up slowly, dribbling past half-court. At the top of the arc, he extended his left hand, gesturing for his teammates to clear out.
One-on-one.
Kobe crouched low, locked in.
"Double-team him!" Phil Jackson barked from the sideline, finally losing patience.
Ron Harper dashed over to trap.
"Pass or drive?" Barkley said loudly on TNT.
But Zhao Dong gave his answer with actions—neither.
He rose up through the double-team, ignoring the arms in his face. Kobe and Harper jumped together, hands swiping at the ball.
At the last instant, Zhao Dong tucked it into his chest, hanging in the air longer than both of them. As they dropped back to the floor, he floated up, fully extended, and released at the peak of his jump.
Splash!
Another three-pointer.
"Eighty-six points! He's unconscious tonight!" Zhang Heli was almost shouting.
Su Qun blinked, stunned. "Coach Zhang… it's only 14 points away."
"Fourteen points from what?" Zhang frowned, still focused on the game.
Su Qun's voice trembled. "From… one hundred."
Zhang's face froze. His heart skipped a beat. "Eighty-six… one hundred… just fourteen points away?"
Su Qun corrected, breath quickening. "Fifteen. Fifteen points to pass Chamberlain's 100."
Their words shot through countless homes in China, electrifying fans glued to their TVs.
---
Meanwhile, Barkley finally caught on, eyes widening as he stared at the 86 flashing on the screen.
"Oh, hell! Something huge is happening tonight!"
"What huge?" Kenny Smith asked, still casual.
Barkley nearly leapt from his seat. "The hundred mark! Zhao Dong might score over 100 tonight! Do you hear me? Break the century in a single game!"
Fans across the United States roared in living rooms and bars, their excitement spilling over like a wave.
---
But down on the court, the players weren't thinking about history—they were still locked in battle.
The Lakers attacked again. Kobe ignored Shaq's demands and pulled up for a deep three over Zhao Dong.
Clang!
The shot rimmed out, disrupted by Zhao Dong's eye-blocking defense again.
The Blazers secured the rebound—Dale Davis snagged it and immediately whipped an outlet pass.
Zhao Dong caught it in stride, racing past half-court with Kobe scrambling alongside him, hands swiping, trying to disrupt his dribble.
---
Squeak!
At the left-wing three-point line, Zhao Dong planted hard, stopping on a dime. Kobe overshot, braking late, spinning to recover.
Too slow.
Zhao Dong rose, ball high. Kobe lunged, desperate, hand slapping across Zhao Dong's forearm.
Beep!
The whistle shrilled.
And then—Swish!
The ball kissed the net cleanly.
A three-point play.
Zhao Dong smiled, walking to the free-throw line as Kobe glared in frustration.
"Eighty-nine," Barkley said, almost whispering now. "Eighty-nine points. He's really closing in."
---
Chinese fans at home were in a frenzy.
"Can he really hit a hundred?!"
"So what if he does? We're lucky just to witness this live!"
"It's an excitement beyond words… I'm looking forward to the moment I hit 100."
Zhao Dong's voice echoed in his mind as the giant screen above Staples flashed his scoring total. The number burned like fire—89 points—and the crowd's murmurs grew louder and louder.
---
"This is insane… he's not really gonna do it, is he?" Kareem Abdul-Jabbar muttered nervously from the sidelines. He still loved the Lakers deeply—he didn't want to see them become a footnote in history.
"It's going to be tough…" Magic Johnson frowned, shifting uneasily in his courtside seat. But with Zhao Dong? The strongest scorer in history? Nothing feels impossible tonight.
The whispers from the crowd spread to the court. Both teams glanced up at the massive scoreboard, where the glaring "89 POINTS" stared back at them.
The Lakers felt the weight of it like a punch to the gut. The Blazers, on the other hand, were fired up, adrenaline surging through their veins.
"Listen up! Feed Zhao Dong every possession!" Larry Bird barked from the Blazers' sideline, pacing like a general at war.
"Stop him!" Kobe snarled, his pride burning. He refused to be immortalized as a background prop to someone else's glory.
"Stop him!" O'Neal roared in agreement, slamming his massive hands together.
The Lakers, already trailing by a huge margin, suddenly played with a desperation that hadn't been there all night—driven not by winning, but by stopping history.
---
Before the free throw, Zhao Dong did something no one expected.
He casually walked over to the sideline commentary booth, grabbed a microphone, and, with a grin, announced to the roaring Staples crowd:
"Everyone—if I break Chamberlain's record tonight, I'll donate a five million dollars to celebrate!"
The arena erupted. Fans jumped to their feet, clapping and screaming.
---
In Portland, Lindsay—sitting in her private box—smiled at the broadcast.
"Meilin, get ready," she said to her assistant.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Which organization should we donate to?" Meilin asked.
Lindsay thought for a second, then replied firmly, "The Association for the Protection of the Disabled."
"Yes, ma'am!" Meilin nodded and hurried off.
---
Back at Staples, Zhao Dong stepped to the free-throw line. Every eye in the arena—and millions watching worldwide—followed the ball in his hands.
He dribbled six times, exhaled deeply, then flicked his wrist.
Swish!
121–102. The Blazers led by 19.
"Ninety! Zhao Dong has now officially broken the second-highest single-game scoring mark! He's just 10 points away from 100!" The arena announcer shouted over the PA, his voice almost cracking.
---
The Lakers pushed the ball. Kobe, still fighting, faked a jumper, drove right, and darted past Zhao Dong. But instead of shooting, he zipped a pass to O'Neal.
The Blazers packed into their 2–1–2 zone. Zhao Dong stayed on Kobe, while Dale Davis and Grant crashed on Shaq.
O'Neal, with a bit of energy left after Kobe's heavy shot load all night, powered through all three defenders.
Bang! A one-handed slam, plus a foul.
121–104. The Lakers still trailed by 17.
Shaq missed the free throw. Grant snagged the rebound but was immediately swarmed by David Robinson and Fox, forcing a slow outlet.
Zhao Dong had to double back to receive the ball himself.
---
Crossing half-court, he saw Kobe and Harper already crouched, ready to trap him near the arc.
Zhao Dong stopped just beyond the top of the key, dribbling rhythmically. Kobe stood a step closer, Harper inching in. One more half-step and they'd pounce.
Zhao Dong smirked.
Suddenly, instead of driving, he rose up from deep—well beyond the arc.
Kobe's eyes widened.
Zhao Dong's absurd core strength kept his body perfectly balanced in mid-air as he launched.
Swish!
The net snapped.
124–104. The Blazers were up 20.
---
"Ninety-three points!" Zhang Heli and Su Qun shouted in unison on CCTV.
Then they noticed something strange.
It wasn't just them shouting.
The entire Staples Center was on its feet, chanting in unison—"Ninety-three! Ninety-three!"
Hollywood stars courtside were clapping and yelling the number like crazed fans.
Magic and Kareem exchanged bitter smiles, standing and applauding despite themselves.
"It's unstoppable," Kareem sighed.
Barkley laughed, slapping Smith's arm. "The outcome doesn't matter now. The whole arena wants Zhao Dong to hit a hundred. They just wanna witness the most insane scoring night in history!"
Phil Jackson finally burned a timeout. He didn't care about the game anymore—he cared about stopping history.
"Double-team. Extreme double-team. Forget everyone else—throw the entire defense at Zhao Dong!" he ordered, his voice hard.
The game resumed.
David Robinson caught the ball on the left elbow, drawing in the defense before swinging it down low to O'Neal. Shaq powered through a double-team and hammered it home with a vicious dunk.
124–106. The Lakers were still down by 18.
---
When the Blazers pushed the ball, Zhao Dong moved toward the backcourt to receive the pass—only to find Kobe and Harper already shadowing him tightly.
"Trouble, big trouble. The Lakers are throwing everything at Zhao Dong now!" Zhang Heli's voice trembled on the CCTV broadcast.
"What if Zhao Dong can't even touch the ball?" Su Qun sounded just as anxious.
The nervousness wasn't limited to commentators. Even Lakers fans inside Staples were restless—most of them wanted the same thing: to witness Zhao Dong break 100. If he came up short now, it wouldn't just be a missed opportunity—it'd feel like a once-in-a-lifetime regret.
Zhao Dong didn't panic. Instead of fighting for the inbound pass, he sprinted upcourt. Eddie Jones brought the ball over half-court, unguarded, because the Lakers had one mission now: deny Zhao Dong at all costs.
The Blazers star cut hard, slipping to the deep left block, just below the dotted line near the paint.
Eddie Jones stopped at the top of the arc. No one even bothered to guard him. He looked straight at Zhao Dong, waiting.
"One more defender!" Phil Jackson's sharp voice pierced the arena.
Hearing the command, Rick Fox sprinted from the free-throw line to the left wing, joining Kobe and Harper to trap Zhao Dong without the ball.
Phil's eyes locked on Zhao Dong, cold and unyielding.
You've ruined me before, he thought bitterly. Without you, my Bulls might've won another dynasty. Now, with the Lakers, you're still in my way—and tonight you want to humiliate us by scoring 100 on my team? Not if I can help it.
---
But Zhao Dong wasn't giving up. Moving baseline, he shook Fox with a sharp fake, then darted toward the paint. Kobe and Harper cut him off—until he abruptly spun back, bolting to the left corner.
Eddie Jones read him perfectly, rifling a two-handed pass to the corner.
Three quick strides, Zhao Dong turned, and the ball was already in the air. Snatching it with one hand, he rose instantly, adjusting mid-air with the effortless balance of a six-tool athlete.
Kobe flew in desperately, hand extended, but he was half a beat too late. The ball flicked just past his fingertips.
---
"Go in… go in!"
The entire arena—Lakers fans included—held their breath.
Swish!
The net snapped.
"Yeah!" Staples erupted.
"Ninety-six! Ninety-six! Ninety-six!" The chant rolled like thunder, the Lakers' home court now completely taken over by Zhao Dong fever.
"One minute, forty-five seconds left—he still has time to break 100!" Su Qun's voice shook, his heart pounding like a drum.
In the TNT booth, Barkley was almost laughing in disbelief. "Congratulations, Zhao Dong! You just tied the Iceman's all-time record of 33 points in a single quarter! Now you're tied for first!"
---
127–106. The Blazers were up by 21.
The Lakers tried to answer—David Robinson hit a jumper—but all eyes stayed glued to Zhao Dong.
This time, the Lakers went all-in. Forget the game; their only mission was to keep him from touching the ball. O'Neal and Robinson dropped back to guard the rim, while Kobe, Harper, and Fox swarmed Zhao Dong the moment the Blazers inbounded.
Then—beep!
Harper tugged Zhao Dong's jersey off the ball. The whistle blew. The ref pointed to the stripe. Two free throws.
The Lakers froze in disbelief.
That's it? Just a little pull and he blows the whistle? At Staples?
---
Barkley nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "Ha! Even the refs wanna see a 100-point game tonight! That's why the whistle's so tight!"
Smith could barely breathe from laughing. "Harper definitely pulled him. No-ball foul's legit. But man, the timing…"
---
Zhao Dong walked to the line, taking the ball from the ref. His breathing was heavy now—his energy was draining after this historic night—but his hands were still rock steady.
He dribbled a few times, exhaled deeply, then shot.
Swish!
"Ninety-seven!"
The roar nearly shook the rafters.
"Congratulations, Zhao Dong! You just broke the league's single-quarter scoring record—34 points this quarter!" Barkley shouted, slamming the desk.
Zhao Dong stayed composed, dribbled again, and released.
Swish!
"Ninety-eight!"
The sound inside Staples was deafening, waves of cheers crashing through the arena.
"One shot—just one bucket to tie 100. A three-pointer to break Chamberlain's 100-point record that's stood for 38 years!" Su Qun's voice cracked with excitement.
Even the Lakers looked shaken, the weight of history pressing on them. With 72 seconds left, they were desperate.
One ball. One moment. History waited.
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