83: Chapter 83 I Will Keep Running

Chen Mo opened Twitter and posted a photo.

It was a silhouette of him shaking hands with Cook on the event stage, with the caption: "Never stop."

Tomorrow, we continue.

"Front row, courtside, diagonally opposite the Lakers bench. Jeanie's assistant just messaged me saying she wants to see you during halftime, in the box."

Scott unbuckled his seatbelt, straightened his clothes, and said: "She watched the livestream of the Apple event. She rewound and watched that part where Cook said 'the best performance' twice."

Chen Mo rode in Scott's black Cadillac, turning directly into the underground parking lot via the VIP lane.

Chen Mo pushed open the car door. Today, he was wearing the purple number 24 jersey that Kobe Bryant had given him, with "Don't Stop" written on the chest.

The Staples Center underground parking lot smelled of rubber, mixed with the chill of the air conditioning and the sweet scent of popcorn wafting from the arena.

The lights in the player tunnel were bright, and staff members in purple polo shirts were walking back and forth.

When Chen Mo walked from the tunnel entrance into the arena, the warm-up music was still playing, and the lights bathed the entire arena in a golden ocean.

The dome of the Staples Center was higher than the Microsoft Theater for the VMAs, and the championship banners hanging on all sides were illuminated into translucent purple and gold by the lights.

He found his seat, diagonally opposite the Lakers bench, in the first row courtside, with a card bearing his name attached to the seat.

Scott sat beside him and whispered: "Kobe Bryant is warming up over there."

Chen Mo looked in that direction; Kobe Bryant was standing at the far baseline, wearing his purple training gear, black shorts, and a black elbow sleeve on his left arm.

He was passing the ball back and forth with a trainer—catch, shoot, catch, shoot—his movements identical to that day at the El Segundo training facility.

After Kobe Bryant finished a set, he walked toward the sideline. Seeing Chen Mo, he didn't stop, but his gaze swept from his face to the purple number 24 jersey on his chest and then paused.

"You wore it."

"You gave it to me."

Kobe Bryant's mouth twitched, but he didn't respond. He turned and walked back onto the court, took two steps, then turned back and said: "Don't leave early today."

The game began.

The Lakers won the tip-off, the point guard brought the ball past midcourt and passed it to the wing, and after a couple of passes, the ball reached Kobe Bryant.

He backed into his defender, feinted over his left shoulder, turned, and faded away. The ball arced high in the air and swished through the net.

The place exploded.

Chen Mo stood up with the rest of the crowd, the purple number 24 jersey glowing under the golden lights.

With four minutes left in the first quarter, there was a dead ball, and the arena sound system suddenly switched to a song.

It wasn't ordinary warm-up music; the C Major piano intro descended from the ceiling speakers. Tens of thousands of people in the arena recognized the song at the same second, and the cheers rolled from the first row to the last.

"Closer."

The scene on the big screen cut from the court to the sidelines, and Chen Mo's face appeared on the giant screen, dozens of feet high.

He was wearing the purple number 24 jersey, his expression calm but carrying the excitement he had just suppressed.

The cheers from the arena rose another level; some people whistled, some shouted "Mower," and some began to sing along to the chorus with the music, the sound so loud it drowned out the stadium DJ's audio.

Chen Mo stood up from his seat, clapped his hands once over his head, and then sat back down.

The image on the big screen cut back to the court, but the singing didn't stop; it continued for several more beats before gradually fading away.

Kobe Bryant stood behind the free-throw line with his hands on his hips, looked up at the big screen, then glanced at Chen Mo on the sidelines, and tilted his chin slightly upward.

Chen Mo gave a thumbs up, and Kobe Bryant withdrew his gaze.

Free throw, in.

On the last possession before halftime, Kobe Bryant caught the ball outside the three-point line, with his defender sticking close to him.

He dribbled once, pulled to the left, stopped abruptly, and rose up to shoot. As the ball flew through the air, the timer hit zero, and the red light turned on.

The ball swished through the net.

The dome of the Staples Center was almost blown off by the roar of the crowd.

Kobe Bryant landed, turned around, faced the sidelines—or more accurately, faced Chen Mo—raised his right index finger, and pointed at him.

Chen Mo stood up, the hem of the purple number 24 jersey fluttering slightly in the air conditioning breeze, and raised his right hand, pointing back with his index finger.

Kobe Bryant withdrew his finger, turned, and ran toward the player tunnel.

Halftime.

Jeanie's assistant was a white woman with thin-rimmed glasses, wearing a dark blue suit, waiting for Chen Mo at the entrance of the player tunnel.

"Mr. Chen Mo, Jeanie is waiting for you in the box."

Chen Mo followed her into the elevator. The box was on the mezzanine level of the arena, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the court. The halftime light show bathed the entire arena in purple.

Jeanie stood in front of the window, holding a glass of white wine.

"Chen Mo." She extended her hand, her grip stronger than Chen Mo had expected. "Kobe Bryant told me about you."

She placed the wine glass on the windowsill and looked into the distance.

"Cook said at the event that it was the best performance in Apple's history. I watched the livestream; when you crouched down to sing the last line to that little girl, my eyes welled up in my office."

"Not because I was moved, but because you did something many artists can't do. You turned the stage into a living room in front of tens of millions of people."

"That little girl flew a long way to see me. She was holding a sign."

"I know. Her mother is a friend of one of our investors. They flew there from Los Angeles."

Jeanie picked up her wine glass again.

"The Lakers would be honored. If you are willing, we hope you can come to Staples Center to sing the national anthem during the Finals."

She emphasized her tone and repeated it.

"Lakers home court, the Finals, tens of thousands of spectators, global broadcast, you standing there singing."

"When?"

"Next June, if we make the Finals."

"Alright, if the Lakers make the Finals, I'll come."

Jeanie raised her wine glass. Chen Mo didn't have a glass in his hand, so he extended his hand, and the two bumped fists.

Before the second half began, Chen Mo returned from the box to his courtside seat.

Scott turned his head and asked: "What did Jeanie say?"

Chen Mo told him about singing the national anthem at the Finals.

Scott was silent for a moment, then leaned back into his seat.

"Do you know who the last Chinese person to sing the national anthem at the NBA Finals was?"

"I don't know."

"There hasn't been one. You would be the first."

But unfortunately, they didn't make it to the Finals in the end.

In the final minutes of the game, the Lakers were in the lead, and the ball was in Kobe Bryant's hands.

He controlled the pace, backed in, shimmied, turned, and faded away. The ball went in.

The whole arena stood up, and the final buzzer sounded.

Watching that back, Chen Mo suddenly understood what Kobe Bryant had said to him that day.

"I am not most people."

After Kobe Bryant finished shaking hands with the opposing players, he walked toward the sidelines. He stopped in front of Chen Mo and asked: "What did you talk about in the box?"

"Jeanie said she wants me to sing the national anthem at the Finals."

"Are you coming?"

"If the Lakers make the Finals, I'll come."

Kobe Bryant extended his hand, bumped fists, and said seriously: "We will make it."

The game ended, 60 points, a perfect curtain call.

Kobe Bryant walked into the locker room, a towel draped over his shoulders, soaked in sweat. He was holding that number 24 jersey, which had been soaked to a deep purple by sweat.

"Here." He threw the jersey to Chen Mo.

Chen Mo caught it; it was heavy.

"This is for you," Kobe Bryant panted, his voice sounding like a broken bellows. "I'm retiring, but the mamba mentality cannot end. It's a good thing I met you."

"I'm not a professional player," Chen Mo joked.

"Who asked you to play basketball?" Kobe Bryant gave a relaxed smile. "You just write songs! Write them so they shake the heavens!"

Chen Mo returned to his apartment, took off the purple number 24 jersey, hung it on a hanger, and put it in the closet. As for the sweat-soaked jersey, he put it in the washing machine.

There were already several important items in the closet—

The Dior suit, the one he wore in the Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles;

The white T-shirt, the one from the Forbes cover;

The dark gray cashmere scarf;

And now, there was one more: the purple number 24 jersey, with "mamba mentality" written on the chest.

He took out his phone and posted a tweet with the caption: To Kobe, Mamba Forever. I will keep running.

The next morning, reports from domestic media poured out everywhere.

Tencent Sports' headline was: "Chen Mo Holds Court at Lakers Home Game, Kobe Bryant Points at Him at Halftime! Purple Number 24 Jersey with mamba mentality on the Chest."

The article wrote: "When the stadium DJ played 'Closer,' tens of thousands of spectators spontaneously sang the chorus. Chen Mo, on the big screen wearing the autographed jersey gifted by Kobe Bryant, showed that he wasn't just an invited spectator; he was one of their own, recognized by the Lakers."

Sina Sports' headline was more direct— "From Singing at Staples Center to the National Anthem at the Finals: Chen Mo Is Already Part of Mainstream American Culture."

The last paragraph of the article read: "A Chinese person, in the most top-tier sports palace in the United States, tens of thousands of people spontaneously singing his song—this is cultural recognition."

The "Chen Mo Lakers" entry surged to number one on the Weibo trending list.

The top-rated comment in the section read: "He sat courtside, wearing the jersey Kobe Bryant gave him, with tens of thousands of people singing his song. When Kobe Bryant pointed at him at the end of the first half, two paranoids were greeting each other."

Another highly-rated comment wrote: "Jeanie invited him to sing the national anthem at the Finals. NBA Finals, national anthem, sung by a Chinese person—what level of prestige is this!"

As Chen Mo flipped through the reports, Jeanie's voice was still in his mind—

"You turned the stage into a living room in front of tens of millions of people."