18: Mutual appreciation

Lin Feng looked back.

At the entrance of the player tunnel, the dim lighting outlined a familiar figure.

Stephen Curry.

He had already taken off his soaked jersey and was wearing only a tight training tank top, with sweat-drenched hair clinging to his forehead.

On that baby face, the arrogance from the start of the game and the frenzy during the match had both faded.

All that remained was a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and a certain indescribable complexity of emotion.

He watched Lin Feng quietly, the fire in his eyes extinguished, revealing a gaze as clear as the bottom of a lake.

The surrounding reporters were like sharks sensing blood, crowding around frantically, their flashes lighting up the dim tunnel as bright as day.

Curry ignored the surrounding noise; he simply stepped forward, pushed through the crowd, and walked straight up to Lin Feng.

He stood still, looking at Lin Feng for a long time before finally exhaling a long breath.

"Tonight, you..."

His voice was somewhat raspy; he paused, seemingly searching for the right word.

In the end, he gave up.

"I got blown out."

He admitted his defeat with an extremely candid tone.

After saying this, he extended his right hand.

It was a signal of reconciliation and a sign of recognition from one powerhouse to another.

Lin Feng was a bit surprised but quickly felt at ease.

This was Stephen Curry.

A pure player who could destroy you in the most unreasonable way on the court, yet frankly admit his defeat off the court.

Lin Feng reached out and shook his hand.

"You were great too."

"I just had a better touch tonight," Lin Feng replied modestly.

"No."

Curry shook his head, his grip firm.

"That wasn't just 'touch.' I know it."

The two top shooters who would lead the future league's three-point era completed their first true passing of the torch and collision at this moment, under the gaze of a thousand flashes.

This scene was frantically recorded by reporters and was destined to become a classic moment that fans would talk about for years to come.

After letting go, the dejection in Curry's eyes vanished, replaced by a rekindled fire of competitive spirit.

"I can't wait to play against you again in the regular season."

He stared at Lin Feng, saying each word deliberately.

"Next time, I won't lose again."

This was the declaration of an ace.

Lin Feng smiled.

"I'll be waiting."

...The post-game press conference completely turned into Lin Feng's personal showcase.

The press room was packed with media reporters from all over the US and even the world, their raised arms looking like a dense forest.

Lin Feng sat on the stage side-by-side with head coach D'Antoni, the array of microphones in front of him highlighting his immense popularity at this moment.

"Lin! How do you evaluate your performance tonight? Twelve three-pointers, including that incredible half-court logo shot—you're the first player ever to do that!" an ESPN reporter snatched the first opportunity to ask a question.

Lin Feng picked up the microphone, his expression calm.

"My performance is thanks to my teammates. Steve and Pau created great opportunities for me; they drew the defense, and all I did was put the ball in the basket."

His answer was flawless, crediting the team.

The reporters below recorded quickly, many with expressions of admiration on their faces.

"Lin, your duel with Stephen Curry tonight has been called a 'battle of the gods' by many. How do you evaluate your opponent?" another reporter stood up.

This was a sharp question; any slip-up could be interpreted by the media as "arrogance" or "provocation."

Lin Feng's answer, however, surprised everyone once again.

"Stephen is the best shooter in this league, there's no doubt about that."

His tone was very sincere.

"It was an honor to compete on the same court as him. Honestly, I was watching him throughout the game as well, and I learned a lot from him."

These words caused a small stir in the room.

So mature.

The emotional intelligence in this answer didn't seem like that of a twenty-year-old who had just played a legendary game.

Instead of belittling his opponent because of the victory, he gave the other party the highest praise.

head coach D'Antoni nodded with satisfaction from the side, his eyes full of admiration as he looked at Lin Feng.

"Lin, your performance tonight was historic. Many people are saying you defeated the Golden State Warriors single-handedly. What do you think?"

"No, basketball is a five-man sport."

Lin Feng shook his head.

"It was the Los Angeles Lakers who defeated the Golden State Warriors, not me alone. We are a team, and the victory belongs to everyone."

The press conference lasted for half an hour.

The reporters' questions ranged from on-court performance to personal feelings and future prospects; Lin Feng's answers remained humble, appropriate, and yet full of confidence.

He wasn't blinded by his overnight fame.

His performance earned him something more than just a victory—goodwill.

The media discovered that this young man from the East not only possessed extraordinary skills but also a mature mindset and high emotional intelligence beyond his years.

By the end of the press conference, almost all the media outlets had already decided on their front-page headlines for tomorrow.

Meanwhile.

In the visiting team's press room on the other side.

Stephen Curry was also being interviewed.

He had finished washing up and changed into a clean tracksuit, but the fatigue between his brows was still impossible to hide.

"Stephen, can you talk about Lin Feng's performance tonight?"

A reporter threw the same question at him.

Curry silent for a moment before picking up the microphone.

"His performance tonight was historic."

His voice was very calm, devoid of much emotion.

"I'm convinced by his skill. I saw with my own eyes what 'All-field range' really means."

He frankly admitted his defeat without making any excuses.

"We'll meet again in the regular season, and I'll be better prepared. Next time, I look forward to a real contest."

The mutual praise between the two protagonists gave this duel, which should have been full of hostility, a hint of heroic mutual respect.

That night.

The title "Oriental Sharpshooter," along with the video of Lin Feng's logo shot across the half-court, spread frantically through major sports media like ESPN and TNT, echoing throughout the United States.

On social media, his name was pushed to the number one trending spot.

Countless fans, celebrities, and even people who don't watch basketball were discussing this boy from the East who had created a miracle.

However, as the center of the storm, Lin Feng had already returned to the Lakers' somewhat old locker room.

The teammates' celebrations had come to an end, and most people had gone home after showering.

Lin Feng sat in front of his locker, preparing to change out of his clothes, when a strong sense of fatigue, mixed with the emptiness after the adrenaline faded, surged up together.

He leaned back against the chair and let out a long breath.

Just then, he felt a gaze.

A highly penetrating gaze fell upon him.

Lin Feng looked up.

He saw that at the other end of the locker room, that man was sitting on a bench, watching him quietly.

Kobe Bryant.

He hadn't come over to congratulate or hug him like the other teammates; from the end of the game until now, he hadn't said a word.

At this moment, he was still wearing that expensive custom suit, his body leaning slightly forward.

His gaze wasn't filled with admiration like Nash's, nor with joy like Gasol's.

It was a pure, emotionless scrutiny.