Ignorance isn't the worst thing. Arrogance is.
Wu Xia lei's lips parted slightly, her face frozen in shock, and the pen in her hand was barely steady.
Twenty minutes ago, she thought Lin Yi was joking.
A seven-footer saying his best skill was dribbling? That was like a 6'3" guy saying he wanted to play center in the NBA.
Maybe it's some kind of strategy? Some Cuban coaches liked to keep their top players under wraps to throw off opponents.
Truthfully, most Chinese reporters barely knew anything about Lin Yi beyond "Chinese player in NCAA Division I." They didn't even know if he was a starter or how much playing time he got.
Wu Xiaolei and Qi Jun? They were ahead of the pack—at least they were here, covering the game in person.
Before coming, they hadn't been sure what to expect from the NCAA. The Southern Conference wasn't exactly famous. Most of the scouting reports they had were about Steph Curry. As for Lin Yi? They assumed he was another big guy, someone like Yao Ming or Yi Jianlian.
Then—
"WOW! He did it again! Another insane connection between Steph and Lin! Steph with a dribble—feeds Lin up top—and look at that move! A deadly crossover… Stanford's center is completely lost! Lin Yi drills the three! His form, textbook!"
The Davidson College arena erupted.
Dell Curry, Steph's dad, watched proudly from the stands and nodded.
Steph's vision has improved a ton since last season
Like any parent, he was proud of his kid—no matter how much he pretended not to be.
Wu Xiaolei and Qi Jun?
Stunned.
And then, just as they were still processing, Lin Yi did it again.
A high-post drive—ridiculous speed for someone his size—he collapsed Stanford's entire defense in a second, kicked the ball out to the corner, and Steph nailed the three.
Wildcats!
Wildcats!
The crowd chanted, riding the momentum.
"Our info was so off," Wu Xiaolei muttered. "Lin Yi's not just holding his own in NCAA Division I… He and Steph Curry are crushing it."
Qi Jun nodded, snapping photos. Reviewing them, he noticed that Lin Yi's shooting form was very good.
"Uh, Sister Xiaolei… isn't it normal for a big man to dribble? Yi Jianlian used to drive from the high post all the time, right?"
Wu Xiaolei shot him a look. "Not even close! Yi relied on his speed—he mostly attacked in straight lines. Lin Yi's handling is like a guard's. I just asked some American reporters, and they said his dribbling is NBA-level."
Qi Jun scratched his head. "So… what's the big deal?"
"Think about it," Wu Xiaolei sighed. "Your favorite player is LeBron, right?"
"Yeah?"
"If LeBron was only 6 feet tall, would he still dominate?"
Qi Jun blinked. "Uh… no way."
"Exactly! Lin Yi is 7 feet tall. His bone age test puts him at 215 cm—second only Yao's height. And he moves like a wing, handles like a guard. He can get low when he dribbles, which centers just don't do."
She thought back to earlier—when Lin Yi casually bent down to pick up Qi Jun's phone.
Her face turned slightly red.
I thought he was messing with me when he said he was a dribble specialist…
"But… aren't centers supposed to dominate inside?" Qi Jun mumbled, still trying to wrap his head around it. "How's playing outside gonna impress NBA scouts?"
Almost as if proving a point, Lin Yi caught the ball in the post on the very next play.
Some NBA scouts leaned forward in their seats.
Lin Yi planted his feet, feeling out Stanford's center, Holmes. No rush. Deep breath. He bumped Holmes once—then, in a flash, spun off him.
Way too fast!
Holmes panicked, lunging to contest.
He bit hard on the fake.
Lin Yi, already one step ahead, froze mid-move, re-adjusted his balance, and gently scooped the ball into the hoop.
"DREAM SHAKE!
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