Chapter Thirty-Two: A Display

“A Kobe Bryant fan?”
When Flash first heard Michael Wu say “of course,” he was quietly pleased, but Wu’s next words made the great veteran’s lips twitch ever so slightly.
“Yes, there’s no denying you’re a top-five shooting guard in history.” Dwyane Wade’s expression grew a bit odd, but that was none of Wu’s concern. He kept talking: “But I prefer one of the top two shooting guards of all time.”
“Trying to provoke me? Don’t bother with such a ridiculous tactic.” Wade, who had been stern-faced, suddenly broke into a smile. “I’ve heard more trash talk than you’ve heard English in your life.”
“So save it, rookie!”
With that, Wade stopped bantering with Wu. He saw no need to waste words on a newcomer who wasn’t even his fan. Better to teach him a lesson with real action on the court!
“Michael, you really aren’t the least bit nervous, are you?”
As Wade strode back to half court, Serge Ibaka finally sauntered over to Wu’s side. “That was Dwyane Wade you were talking to—a master of ‘court language!’”
Ibaka had spent more time around Wade and was well aware of the Hall of Famer’s trash-talking prowess. On a normal day, even Ibaka wouldn’t dare trade barbs with him—for fear Wade would rattle him completely!
“What’s there to be afraid of? I’m just a rookie.” While Ibaka harbored some wariness toward Wade, Wu felt none at all. In fact, Wade was right: the reason Wu had done several sets of high-knee exercises after checking in was simple—he was about to compete with a legendary player on the same court!
That thrill coursed through his entire body. He had to let off steam, to ease the excitement.
Of course, the most important thing was to get his legs properly warmed up again. After all, this was his moment to show himself before a shooting guard of historic caliber!
Wu and Wade’s exchange was just a small episode. Soon, the third quarter of the game officially began. Since the opening tip-off had been won by the Bulls’ Robin Lopez, possession at the start of the third belonged to the Orlando Magic.
Ibaka inbounded, Elfrid Payton brought the ball up. Both of them had performed poorly in the first half, but as the second half began, they were determined to give it their all.

“Hey, Jimmy, your muscles are really solid.”
While his teammates were fully focused, Wu struck up a conversation with his defender, Jimmy Butler. Of course, it was a one-sided chat—Butler had no intention of responding to the rookie’s pointless prattle.
“My muscle definition is pretty good too, actually—especially my legs. They’re full of power!”
Butler ignored him, but Wu’s mouth kept going. Starting the third quarter put him in high spirits, and he was even more talkative than before: “Want me to show you?”
“That’s enough, kid!” Butler finally lost patience with Wu’s incessant chatter. He pressed up tightly, sealing off every possible passing lane. “Shut your mouth!”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Feeling Butler’s defensive pressure, Wu raised his hands innocently, but still probed, “You really don’t want to see?”
“Duang!”
Wu had just finished speaking when, on the Magic’s side, Evan Fournier curled off a screen and launched a deep two-pointer. It missed, banging off the rim. Underneath, chaos erupted for the rebound!
“See, kid? While you were busy running your mouth, your team just wasted a possession!”
Watching the Magic’s failed attack, Butler sneered inwardly. Wu’s motor-mouth was getting on the All-Star’s nerves, but fortunately his opponent’s offense wasn’t effective. This was his chance to shut the rookie up with a single biting remark.
And if his teammate secured the rebound and he scored over Wu on the other end, that would naturally silence this brash newcomer.
But just as Butler turned to look under the rim, he sensed something off—the space beside him had suddenly widened.
Bang!
The next instant, Wu—wearing the Magic’s number 0—sprang skyward, his legs fully engaged, body unfurling, and snatched the rebound out of the hands of both Nikola Vucevic and Robin Lopez!

Landing, Wu quickly surveyed his teammates’ positions, then unhesitatingly kicked the ball out to Elfrid Payton on the perimeter. Payton didn’t rush; he steadied the tempo, scanning the floor for the next opportunity.
The Magic, by slowing things down, eased the game’s tension a bit, but in the United Center, several Bulls fans’ eyes widened in surprise.
“Robin Lopez actually lost the offensive rebound?” The commentator courtside was astonished. “And it was taken by Michael Wu? What just happened?”
“My goodness, I can hardly believe my eyes—Michael Wu’s legs are like loaded springs! The Magic get another chance on offense!”
On the Magic’s bench, Frank Vogel stood expressionless, but in truth, from the moment Fournier got open and Payton made the pass, Vogel’s eyes had never left Wu. He was eager to see how Wu might back up all that talk from the locker room.
On defense, Butler tended to leak out early, hoping to be the finisher on the fast break. So when the Magic failed to convert, Wu was left unchallenged—able to dash straight for the rebound and, with his exceptional leaping ability, snatch the offensive board!
Vogel replayed the sequence in his mind, considering Wu’s earlier words. He hadn’t expected that, just by telling Wu to get ready, the rookie would prepare this thoroughly.
Still, such a small tactical success could only work once. A player of Butler’s caliber wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Vogel was curious to see what Wu would do next under those circumstances.
Wu’s offensive rebounding was impressive, but as the team’s point guard, Payton still trusted his interior anchor, Vucevic. Vucevic didn’t disappoint—holding off Robin Lopez and sinking a smooth hook. The Magic scored right at the start of the third.
Buoyed by his success on offense, Vucevic played with renewed energy on defense. The Bulls tried to work the ball inside, but Lopez’s post-up was ruthlessly denied by Vucevic. The Magic broke out on a 2-on-1, and Payton added two more points!
49 to 64—the Magic came out blazing hot in the second half!