Chapter 445: Signing Teammates, Reward Time
"51 points. Chen Yan hit 50 plus again," Charles Barkley said as the broadcast wrapped. "50 is like a line in the sand. If you have never scored 50, people can talk all day, but you are not that kind of scorer. For Chen Yan, 50 looks like he's grabbing a cup of water."
Kenny Smith laughed. "What's crazy is how he got there. He had 11 at halftime, then he finishes with 51. That's a 40 point second half swing. Come on now. Is he doing magic?"
Tonight belonged to Chen Yan. Even after the final horn, he was still the only thing anyone wanted to talk about.
The numbers backed it up.
Outside of Chen Yan, only 2 Suns reached double figures. Amar'e Stoudemire had 16. Azubuike had 13.
Kobe Bryant finished with 33, but it came on a near desperate 32 shots. He went 12 of 32 from the field, 3 of 8 from 3, and 6 of 8 at the line.
Kobe's jumper never found a rhythm, but he did not have a choice. His teammates were even colder. Somebody had to take the shots, even if the math was ugly.
Chen Yan did not shoot over 50 percent either, but that was because of the first half. Once the second half started, he flipped into efficient mode and never looked back.
…
The Lakers held their press conference first, and the room felt like a funeral.
Christmas Day was the most watched regular season stage in the country. Losing to a rival on that night, in that spotlight, stung different.
Kobe did not soften a single word.
"I can't accept a loss like this," he said, jaw tight. "We didn't lose to them, we beat ourselves. Terrible shooting pushed us further and further away from the game. Everyone played bad, including me."
The anger in his voice was raw, and it was not going anywhere.
He still kept the newspaper clipping from Chen Yan's championship run in his wallet, a private reminder he refused to let go until the Lakers won one of their own.
Phil Jackson tried to take the edge off.
"We had a great start," he said calmly. "But in December we've dropped more games. That doesn't mean the players are satisfied. In a long season, losses happen. We rest, we adjust, and we keep moving."
Derek Fisher, sitting beside them, gave a tired shrug.
"Chen Yan was unbelievable," he said. "He was a different guy in the second half. We couldn't make shots, and he just kept exploding. This wasn't the real Lakers. Next time we see them, we're coming for it."
…
While the Lakers faced the cameras, the Suns were only just filtering out of the locker room.
Stoudemire and Nash went straight to the training room, both dealing with back discomfort. Chen Yan wrapped ice around his knees, then sat down and started answering questions like he had all the time in the world.
Reporters rotated in and out. The questions repeated. The microphones stayed in his face.
Chen Yan never showed impatience. He answered every one, steady and professional, the way a franchise centerpiece is supposed to.
"Chen," a reporter said, "the Suns now have a 17 game win streak. That's a new franchise record. Do you talk about the streak in the locker room?"
"Is it a record?" Chen Yan blinked, genuinely surprised. "Wow. Nobody told me. It feels great to break something without even realizing it. We'll enjoy the moment, but it won't turn into pressure. The streak isn't our focus. For us, the regular season is about improving, getting ready for the playoffs, and earning home court. The streak is just a byproduct. We're not using it as motivation."
Another reporter followed quickly. "This team looks even stronger than last season. With the streak and the way you're playing, the goal has to be a repeat, right?"
Chen Yan stared at him and answered with a grin.
"Why not? Why not? People are supposed to keep getting better. Even if we have no room left, we can at least make sure we're not worse than last season, right?"
The room laughed.
"Chen," a third reporter asked, "what made you look like 2 different people in the first half and the second half?"
"At halftime, I reviewed my own shots," Chen Yan said. "A lot of them were coming up short. So in the second half, I added more power. I also noticed certain spots felt bad tonight, so I stopped forcing those angles. I adjusted as much as I could. I'm not the type to just sit and wait."
Then a reporter tried to stir the pot.
"Some fans say you exploded because Taylor Swift came to the game."
This time Chen Yan laughed first.
"Then I guess I need her courtside every night," he said. "At that rate, I'll pass Jordan in a few seasons."
More laughter.
"Chen, a lot of people think you're a leading MVP candidate. What's your view on that?"
"I'm happy to be in the conversation," Chen Yan said, voice turning sincere. "It's the highest individual honor. But the season isn't even halfway done. It's way too early. I need to focus on the court, not awards that aren't in my hands yet."
One more came fast.
"Do you think another Chinese player, Yao Ming, has a chance to win MVP?"
"He's absolutely an MVP level player," Chen Yan said. "To me, he's the best big man in the league right now. He's in a transition period, so the stats dipped, but he'll adapt to any style. He's smart."
The reporter leaned in, hungry. "What about run and gun? Can he adapt to that too?"
Chen Yan slapped his forehead like the question physically hurt.
"Oh. That's a good one," he said. "I think nothing is impossible for him, as long as he loses another 30 pounds."
The room cracked up again.
…
After the interview finally ended, Azubuike hurried over, eyes bright, already halfway smiling.
He wanted Chen Yan's newest AeroWing game shoes.
Azubuike had always loved Chen Yan's signature line, and tonight's release only made him more impatient.
Chen Yan looked like he had been expecting it. He opened his locker, pulled out a shoebox, and handed it over.
"Kelenna, your size."
Azubuike froze. He thought he would have to beg. He did not expect Chen Yan to have a pair ready in his exact size.
"Thanks, Chen," Azubuike said, grin widening. "Brother, I love you."
"Save it," Chen Yan said, patting him on the shoulder. "You haven't signed a sneaker deal yet, right?"
Azubuike shook his head. No brand had come calling.
Chen Yan did not waste time.
"Then sign with my independent studio. We'll supply you with game shoes whenever you need them. My team will talk contract details with you, and the number won't be below market."
Azubuike's eyes widened. "Re, really?"
"Of course," Chen Yan said. "And if you keep playing even better, we can do more. I mean it. Do you want your own signature shoe?"
Azubuike's mouth literally fell open.
He had never once imagined that was even possible.
For Chen Yan, it was an easy decision. Azubuike was putting up 16.3 points, 4.7 rebounds, and 1.1 assists this season, and he was in the Sixth Man of the Year conversation. Playing next to Chen Yan meant exposure, highlights, and a brand value that could only climb.
And the signature promise was not empty.
If other role players around the league could get their own shoes, there was no reason Azubuike could not.
…
After leaving the arena, Chen Yan drove Taylor Swift home.
The Christmas Day win had him floating. The conversation in the car jumped from basketball to music, back and forth, easy and warm.
Taylor felt like she could stay in that passenger seat forever.
But Chen Yan had one very specific plan for the night. He and Yao Ming had already agreed to hop on World of Warcraft and run a dungeon together.
When he got home, Chen Yan moved fast. Park, upstairs, computer on. He logged in, put on the headset, and connected.
Then he heard a soft creak behind him.
A door opening.
Chen Yan turned his head, and his mind went completely blank.
Taylor Swift had changed into a red lingerie set and stockings.
She closed the door with her foot, calm and confident, then walked closer like she had decided the schedule for the night and nobody else got a vote.
In his headset, Yao Ming's voice came through, cheerful and loud.
"Yan, you played great tonight. Bring that same energy when we run the dungeon. And make sure you hold aggro."
Chen Yan swallowed hard.
"Yao," he said, voice tight, "I think I've got something to handle tonight. I'm not running with you yet."
"What?" Yao asked. "Something urgent?"
Yao glanced at the clock, confused. Then he looked at the screen.
Chen Yan's character had already gone gray.
"Hey!" Yao shouted. "Don't leave me to run it alone!"
Chen Yan had already logged off. He did not hear another word.
Taylor hooked the door shut, then walked over and pulled the curtains closed.
Reward time had arrived.
[TL: My new fanfic is out now—One Piece: Pokémon Master of the Seas! Check it out!]
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