The Future in His Words

Before entering the Palace of Auburn Hills, Xu Ling had no idea he was about to witness just how incredible a game it would be. He was treated like a celebrity—wherever he went, people asked him for autographs and photos. When the tenth person showed up, Xu Ling turned them down. “We should get a bodyguard,” Xu Ling said, turning to Roderick Craig. “I’ll arrange it,” Craig said with a nod. “Maybe two,” Xu Ling said. “Just like a 2-3 zone—they’ll guard both wings for me.” “No problem.” For most of the game, nothing much happened. Especially once the fourth quarter began, the Pistons held onto their lead. The margin wasn’t big, but they kept firm control of the game’s pace and flow, as if victory was already in the bag. Yet at the critical moment, when the Cavaliers were on the verge of suffocating, LeBron James—after nearly five games of searching—finally awakened completely. He clearly realized that once he fully cut loose on offense, no one on this Pistons team in front of him could stop him. He launched into a frenzied one-man show, scoring on possession after possession, tearing open the Pistons’ iron-fortress defense by himself. And in the final moment before regulation ended, he forced his way to the rim and, with a crushing, thunderous dunk, forcibly tied the score! It’s no exaggeration to say that he single-handedly dragged the team back from the edge of the cliff and, with his own two hands, pulled the game into overtime. Xu Ling sat in the press seats. He had come with nothing more than the mindset of a spectator at an ordinary playoff game, never imagining he would witness, in person and live, the “Full-Power LeBron” he had not seen in many years, even in the time before his transmigration. Roderick Craig, who had come with him, said blankly, “This is the first time I’ve ever thought someone in the world might be greater than MJ!” Xu Ling rolled his eyes at him, though it was understandable. In his previous life, seeing LeBron play like this, he probably would have sincerely shouted “GOAT” himself. But now... the competitive fire that burned up inside him unbidden made him think the way Rukawa did after watching Sakuragi dunk over Maki—“Is that all?” Interestingly, the reporter sitting in front of them was a Pistons beat writer. Seeing James rescue the Cavaliers this way, he couldn’t help saying, “All I’m saying is, we’d better pray the Cavaliers lose this one. Because if LeBron pulls it out, his confidence will swell without limit, just like MJ’s when he won his first championship. Then no one will be able to stop him. For the next ten to twelve years, he’ll own the East. We’re totally fucked!” Hearing that, Xu Ling laughed out loud. Because the reporter was actually right. James really did dominate the Eastern Conference of the 2010s. Sure, for most of those years he had his Big Three teaming up to beat everyone, but you tell me—did he dominate or not? Besides, it’s not like he never carried a team single-handedly. Dominating a depressed DeRozan, a prime Oladipo, and rookie Tatum—wasn’t that domination? Don’t go saying the competition was weak or the level was low—that’s just how the East was that year, that was the whole environment. Can you really say he was just reaping the dividends? That’s how it is for those with destiny on their side. Yet astonishingly, once overtime began, James still decided to settle everything himself. His teammates never touched the ball again. With only James handling the ball on offense against the entire Pistons team, the two sides battled to the very end and went into a second overtime. Then James kept attacking, and with 2.2 seconds left in the second overtime, he rose for a layup that all but sealed the win over the Pistons. When the final buzzer sounded, the Pistons had missed their last shot. LeBron James seemed to be falling from the edge of the Grand Canyon, dropping into an endless freefall. He was utterly spent, barely able to stand, leaning forward with both hands braced on his knees, staring down at the floor of the Palace of Auburn Hills like a statue with its soul drawn out of it. Xu Ling often saw “LeBron haters” online say that the hardest thing for them to accept was fans describing James as “domineering.” As a pure anti-Durantist, James never chose “the hardest road.” He excelled at planning and advancing step by step, importing the precision of life-calculation into his basketball, as if every possession had to be optimized for maximum efficiency on the stat sheet. And it was precisely this way of thinking that, in life-or-death battles, often made him look hesitant, calculating, agonizing over every gain and loss. But once he cast off all calculation and truly entered that “screw it, I’m just gonna go off on you” mode, the energy he unleashed would grow so powerful that even his doubters found it unrecognizable. This night was the game in which LeBron James first truly stepped into the global spotlight, and also the first individual performance of his career worthy of being called great. Coincidentally, Xu Ling had once watched the live broadcast of James’s last great game—Game 1 of the 2018 NBA Finals, when James dropped 50 points against the overbearing “Cosmic Warriors.” That was the closest the Cavaliers came to a win that year, but after J.R. Smith committed that blunder—one worthy of enshrinement in the “most inexplicable mistakes in Finals history” club—James, in a fit of rage, punched a locker and injured his finger, and the situation took a sharp turn for the worse. In the end, the Cavaliers were brutally swept. A lone-hero legend that could have rivaled Allen Iverson’s in 2001 was picked apart over the years. In the end, he became the Qianlong of the basketball world, a Song Jiang who everywhere helped others succeed, the “LeBron James” of AI face-swap videos. How to put it? Xu Ling would remember tonight—and this very first great performance. As he slowly walked out of the arena, where cheers and gasps still echoed, reporters who had long been waiting swarmed over him in an instant, their flashing camera lights nearly engulfing him. One reporter forced his way to the very front and, thrusting his microphone high, asked urgently, “Eli, how would you assess this epic game?” Xu Ling stopped, his gaze calm yet bright, and answered slowly, “This is why we love sports. We tune in right on time for every game, hoping to witness something special—moments worth remembering. That’s why we remember Jordan’s ‘Flu Game’ and Kobe’s 81 points. Many years from now, I’ll still remember tonight. I’ll remember that the first NBA game I ever watched in person was a showdown like this, one for the history books.” The reporter couldn’t help asking, “Does a LeBron like this put any pressure on you?” At that, Xu Ling gave a slight shrug. “That’s a different matter.” Afterward, Xu Ling simply stayed in Detroit to rest up. Tomorrow was the NBA draft lottery, and once the results came out, it would be time to prepare for the pre-draft workouts. Since the 2007 draft was hailed by many draft experts as the most promising class since 1996, this draft class was seen by many teams as a chance to turn their fortunes around. Xu Ling’s arrival meant this draft uncommonly boasted three superstar newcomers, each capable of serving as a franchise cornerstone. In other words, as long as you landed a top-three pick, there was no way you could lose out. Xu Ling had a rough idea of how this draft lottery would play out. Oden was the famously disappointing No. 1 pick, Durant was self-explanatory, Horford was still playing as of 2025, and Conley too. So when Xu Ling saw the Atlanta Hawks land the No. 4 pick and the Memphis Grizzlies unexpectedly draw the No. 3 pick, he raised an eyebrow slightly. The trajectory of fate seemed to have shifted subtly at the flutter of his butterfly’s wings. Naturally, the No. 1 and No. 2 picks ended up in the hands of the Portland Trail Blazers and the Seattle SuperSonics. Once the picks were set, NBA fans all across the league vented their feelings online. Memphis fans fell into a complicated mix of ecstasy and doubt—they had gotten the coveted high draft pick they’d dreamed of, but what lay before them was a simple choice: whether to pick the man who had fallen to the No. 3 slot. Rose had two plans, one bold and one conservative. The bold plan was to work out only for the Trail Blazers, who held the No. 1 pick. “Isn’t that a bit too bold?” But Xu Ling had seen bolder. Before his transmigration, he had watched the 2025 NBA draft: the new-generation “America’s Son,” Cooper Flagg, had locked up the No. 1 pick early, while Ace Bailey, whose draft stock was firmly in the top three, figured he could lock up a top-three slot without working out—only to end up dropping to the No. 5 pick, taken by the Jazz. Though Xu Ling’s confidence was second to none, Oden’s spot at No. 1 was still very hard to shake. On one hand, there was the inertia of modern drafting—big men still stood for everything. On the other, Oden’s college performance had been solid enough; although Xu Ling’s team had eliminated him, he’d also put up gaudy numbers, so you could say he’d held his own. Besides, the Trail Blazers of this era had the notorious reputation of a “prison team,” and Xu, who considered himself a decent, law-abiding sort, still wanted to join a more normal team. “So I also have a conservative workout plan,” Leon Rose said. “We’re planning to accept pre-draft workout invitations from the top-five teams.” “Top four.” Xu Ling suddenly cut in. “Hm?” Rose looked up, slightly surprised. “I don’t like the Celtics,” Xu Ling said. “To be precise, I hate that shade of green.” To be more precise, what Xu Ling loathed was Danny Ainge. This notorious bastard had been infamous since his playing days, and even after retiring and transitioning into a team executive, he had consistently kept up his insufferable way of doing things. And the strangest thing about people like him was that, unless he was on your own team, you could hardly ever warm to him. “That works too.” Rose smiled. “According to current projections, as long as you perform normally in the workouts, there’s absolutely no way you’ll drop out of the top four.” Once the picks were set, everyone preparing for the draft entered the final stretch of specialized training before the workouts. The NBA usually didn’t begin large-scale player workouts until after the season ended. This was all the more true for the potential lottery picks. To that end, Xu Ling found a training team, and from then on he shut out all outside distractions, focusing single-mindedly on training as he waited for the NBA season to end. Now, as for the NBA conference finals: once Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals wrapped up, the Pistons’ fight had been beaten out of them by the young James. Although Game 6 was another muddy grind, the Cavaliers ultimately won, and James led the team into the NBA Finals, making history—and waiting for him ahead was the destined Tim Duncan. As you know, the Cavaliers never stood a chance against the seasoned Spurs. James faced all-out targeting: shadowed by Bowen, caged by zone defenses, and even when he did break through, there was Duncan waiting to greet him. It was a “blessing” that few in the league could stomach. Once James went cold, the Cavaliers couldn’t stir up any waves either, and were swept 4-0 by the Spurs, with Parker lifting the Finals MVP trophy. And just like that, after a two-year gap, Duncan once again became the supreme god of professional basketball. Some said his record over the past ten years was the most gold-standard decade in basketball history: 559-239 in the regular season, 82-49 in the playoffs, and four championships. Across the vast river of NBA history, no more than three people could put together a more flawless ten-year record. More importantly, his honors spanned two eras. In the “Dark Defensive Era” (1999-2004), before the hand-checking rules were revised, he won two championships; and in the “new era,” when the league pushed new rules and encouraged offense, he firmly secured his fourth. Duncan proved, with his composure and tenacity, that no matter the environment, he could remain unbeaten at the heart of the storm. And so, like all great athletes, he began to pass on his own philosophy. You know how it is—Duncan was a good man, so he decided to say some heartfelt words to James: “Thank you for letting us win this championship. I want you to know: the future is yours.” Even James, thick-skinned as he was, couldn’t help smiling, and then he hugged old Duncan hard. In that moment, he was still young, with no idea just how far off, or how hard, the “future” Duncan spoke of would truly be.