Chapter One: Retirement
On April 14, 2016, Beijing time, two monumental events took place in the NBA.
In Oakland, California, at Oracle Arena, the Golden State Warriors crushed their visiting opponents in a resounding victory. As the regular season concluded, their record stood at a staggering 73 wins and 9 losses, shattering the historic 72-10 milestone set by Michael Jordan’s Chicago Bulls. A new legend was born in the NBA.
That same day, also in California, the Staples Center overflowed with a crowd of nearly nineteen thousand. Streamers drifted through the air, a testament that the game had already ended. Yet every spectator, every soul in the arena, and all the lights converged on center court, illuminating the vast Lakers emblem. Standing in the heart of it all, bathed in golden light, was the man in the number 24 jersey—Kobe Bryant.
As the thunderous roar of fans rose like a tidal wave, the legend who fought for two decades on this court lifted the microphone and slowly spoke: “Mamba Out!”
“Mamba Out...”
At almost the same moment, on the other side of the globe in China, a young man watched the live broadcast on his television, overwhelmed by emotion.
“Rui, stop watching TV and get some rest. It’s almost time for your chemotherapy.”
Before the young man could reply, a nurse in a white coat approached his bed and gently adjusted it lower so he could lie down comfortably.
“Nurse, do you watch the NBA?”
He obediently settled in, his bright eyes blinking as he asked the nurse who cared for him. But before she could answer, he continued, “And do you know Kobe Bryant?”
“That’s right, the Black Mamba who scored 81 points, Kobe Bryant!”
“Alright, I don’t know about any ‘Little Flying Warrior’ or ‘Kobe Beef.’ All I know is, you need to rest,” the nurse replied with a gentle smile, then turned to leave, quietly closing the door behind her.
Yet as soon as the door shut, her smile faded. She glanced at the lines of data on her clipboard, recalling the lively spark in the young man’s eyes. A pang of sadness welled up inside her.
The young man in the ward was named Wu Rui. Today was his twenty-second birthday, and he loved the NBA more than anything. But fate had played a cruel joke on him.
At birth, Wu Rui was a healthy, vibrant child. However, as he grew old enough to remember, he gradually lost feeling in his lower body until he was completely paralyzed. The joke was not finished—at age seven, he was diagnosed with cancer.
Yet Wu Rui, eternally optimistic, battled his illness relentlessly and was even honored by the hospital as a “Warrior Against Disease.” But cancer is fiercer than a tiger; this morning, his latest blood report revealed the cancer cells were spreading faster and further. His time was running out.
“Doctor, is there really nothing you can do?” Outside the ward, Wu Rui’s mother clung to the doctor’s arm, her eyes brimming with tears. “My Rui is only twenty-two!”
“It’s his birthday today…”
A parent’s heart aches beyond words. The attending physician, seeing the tearful woman before him, could only shake his head in helplessness. As a doctor, he, too, wished he could cure the talkative, cheerful young man in the ward. But reality is often merciless.
Inside, Wu Rui lay quietly on his bed. Years of paralysis had numbed him to physical pain. The cancer’s onslaught brought fear but no terror.
“When I was born, Kobe hadn’t even entered the league,” Wu Rui murmured, trying to keep his mind sharp. “Now that Kobe has retired, does that mean it’s my turn to retire?”
The more he tried to stay alert, the more weakness crept over his body, making it hard to hold on.
“What a pity. If I had a chance, I’d like to retire on the basketball court, just like Kobe…”
Gradually, Wu Rui closed his eyes. But then, in a daze, he instinctively opened them again, his heart pounding wildly.
Standing before him was a tall Black man in a basketball jersey, holding a ball, his nostrils flared with an imposing aura.
Wu Rui, a long-time NBA fan, recognized immediately the Cleveland Cavaliers home jersey. And he knew this man—Iman Shumpert, the Cavaliers’ backup forward.
“What’s going on? Am I hallucinating?”
Wu Rui froze, staring blankly at Shumpert. Wasn’t he just fighting illness in a hospital bed? How had an NBA player appeared before him at the blink of an eye?
“Welcome to the NBA, Asian rookie!”
Before Wu Rui could react, Shumpert, seeing his defender lost in a daze, wasted no time. He spoke as he set up for a shot, not about to pass up an easy scoring opportunity.
In his eyes, this rookie thrown in during garbage time was clearly too nervous and unprepared for the big stage.
“Michael, stop him!”
Meanwhile, a middle-aged man in a suit bellowed from the sidelines at Wu Rui. Clearly, he meant Wu Rui when he called out “Michael!”
Yet the coach’s demand seemed impossible to Wu Rui—paralyzed since birth, he had no feeling in his lower legs. How could he, with a half-crippled body, possibly stop such a powerful opponent?
But in the next instant, Wu Rui sensed something was off. A command deep in his brain fired. He looked down in astonishment and couldn’t help but shout:
“I’m actually standing up!”
Yes, at that very moment, not only had Wu Rui appeared before an NBA player—he was standing right in front of Shumpert.
“Oh shit! What’s this kid yelling about?”
Wu Rui’s outburst startled Shumpert, disrupting his shooting rhythm. But Shumpert quickly recovered—after all, the rookie in front of him was still standing there dumbfounded, leaving Shumpert with an uncontested shot.
Without hesitation, Shumpert pushed off, leapt into the air, and launched his shot.
“Michael!”
On the sidelines, the suited coach yelled again, his hands on his hips, impatience written across his face.
That shout jolted Wu Rui out of his joy at regaining his legs.
As Shumpert soared for his shot, Wu Rui’s heart blazed with excitement. If he could stand, then he could walk; if he could walk, then surely he could jump!
With that thought, he lunged forward, stretching his arms wide toward Shumpert.
“Bang!”