Lin Yi and his teammates chilled in the locker room for a bit after the game before heading out.
When Steph found out Lin wasn't coming to dinner with the rest of the squad to celebrate, he looked a little bummed at first. But after Lin mentioned he had a pre-arranged dinner with Yao Ming, Curry immediately gave him a pat on the back.
"Dude… that's sick," Steph grinned. "Tell the big guy I said hi."
After getting Curry's seal of approval, Lin Yi made his way to the restaurant Yao had booked.
In Lin's mind, Yao Ming had always been this humble giant. Even after becoming the head of the Chinese Basketball Association, you didn't see him chasing headlines.
But in person? Yao still had that easy, approachable vibe.
"You surprised me, Lin," Yao said, smiling. "Didn't expect you to handle the ball like a guard."
Lin rubbed the back of his neck, a little shy. They chatted while waiting for their food, mostly about hoops, life, and what was ahead.
Yao didn't sugarcoat things. "Once you're in the league, train hard. Take your chances seriously. The NBA's got no patience. Even if you're a top pick—couple quiet seasons, and boom, forgotten."
Lin nodded. He got it. The league was stacked with talent. To stand out? You needed not just talent, but obsession-level work ethic.
"Also, don't blow your money on dumb stuff," Yao added, raising an eyebrow. "You'll make some early cash, sure. But remember, we're eating off a youth meal. One injury and it's all over."
Lin gave him an assured smile. Honestly, Yao was really focused when he got all preachy—especially when he drifted into Rockets talk or started reminiscing about the Chinese national team.
"Wang Zhizhi was too honest," Yao sighed, chuckling. "Sun Yue's just lazy. He had money growing up anyway... Damn, time flies. I'm about to hit 30."
Lin could tell the nostalgia hit Yao hard. He might've been a legend back home, but Yao never felt like he'd done enough. The Rockets were doing okay that year, but McGrady had gotten hurt again. And deep down, Yao wasn't sure how far they could go.
Lin, on the other hand, knew this would be the best playoff run of the Yao-McGrady era. Artest didn't have T-Mac's offense, but the guy was a rock on defense. Brooks was a defensive liability, sure—but offensively, this was his best year yet.
Still, Adelman's system was brutal on Yao's body. A 7'6
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