Chapter Four: Are You as Beautiful as a Painting?

"What an unbelievable shot!" Biyombo scored, but the focus of the crowd wasn’t on the basket—it was on the offensive rebound that made it possible.

The fans’ heated discussions mirrored the frustration brewing among the Cavaliers on the court. It was, after all, a fast break by the Magic that they had expertly forced into a missed shot. Beneath the basket, three Cavaliers were poised to secure the rebound, including the big center known as “Birdman”—Chris Andersen.

"Chris, what happened?" At the baseline, Iman Shumpert, about to receive the inbound, threw a question at Birdman. Though Birdman was already thirty-eight this season, his height alone should have ensured the rebound. Yet, the ball had been snatched away, and not by just anyone—it was taken by the Asian rookie who had earlier blocked Shumpert twice in a row.

"I didn’t expect it either. That kid jumps insanely high," Birdman replied as he put the ball into play, his mood soured. To be outjumped for an offensive rebound by a forward barely over six feet—on his own home turf—was something no big man could accept.

What made it worse for Birdman was that the player who’d grabbed the rebound looked rather dull and awkward. The rest of the Magic had retreated, but number seven still stood absently beneath the Cavaliers’ basket, unmoving.

"Michael, get back!" Bismack Biyombo, the Magic’s center, couldn’t help but call out to Wu Rui, who finally realized he needed to return to his own half, shuffling over in belated retreat.

"That was awesome, the way you snatched that rebound. You really jump high!" As Wu Rui joined him, Biyombo showered praise without hesitation. The young Congolese big man knew that a rookie rarely given playing time needed encouragement. Wu Rui might seem slow-witted, but these last two possessions had proven he possessed remarkable athletic talent.

"Ah... yes, that was... really high," Wu Rui mumbled, a bit dazed by Biyombo’s words. In his memory, it was the first time anyone had complimented his jumping.

After all, for more than twenty years before this, jumping—no, even walking—had been a luxury.

"Haha, kid, welcome to the NBA!" Biyombo laughed at Wu Rui’s bewildered look, assuming it was just the rookie’s awkwardness at being praised in his debut. He slapped Wu Rui’s shoulder, then grew serious: "Just don’t zone out anymore. Keep an eye on your man!"

Wu Rui paused, then followed Biyombo’s gaze. Shumpert was already advancing with the ball, about to orchestrate the attack—his assigned man.

He drew a deep breath, steadied himself, and strode toward Shumpert. Now that he was a running, jumping athlete, he had to fulfill his responsibilities.

Yet with every step, his heart pounded violently. Did he truly "own" these legs now? It all felt so unreal.

Though his mind churned with disbelief, his movements were swift; in two or three strides, he blocked Shumpert’s path. His sudden presence startled Shumpert, who stopped, scanning his teammates for positioning.

"Why did you stop?" Wu Rui, feeling the feedback from his legs and growing more confident, teased, "Are you afraid of me?"

"I’m afraid I’ll break you pretty quickly!" Shumpert’s reply was sharp, but Wu Rui’s words struck a nerve. Truthfully, Shumpert did feel a bit intimidated by the talkative rookie before him, especially after suffering at his hands just moments ago.

"Come, Iman!" At that moment, Birdman Andersen, still smarting from having his rebound stolen, stepped out to set a pick beside Wu Rui. Clearly, the Cavaliers were running a basic pick-and-roll.

"Thanks, brother!" Shumpert, relieved at his teammate’s solid screen, made a quick move, looking to shake Wu Rui. Yet the next instant, Wu Rui darted around Andersen, once again cutting off Shumpert’s path.

"Hey, we meet again." Surprised by his own agile footwork, Wu Rui opened up, "Honestly, I’d love to admire an NBA player’s shooting form up close."

"They say their shots are picture-perfect," he continued, closing in on Shumpert. "I wonder if yours is?"

"Shut your mouth!" Shumpert, unnerved by Wu Rui’s tight defense and relentless chatter, was further troubled by the rookie’s explosive athleticism. Agitated and conflicted, he suddenly pulled up for a jump shot, hoping to catch Wu Rui off guard.

But Wu Rui, still unaccustomed to jumping for blocks, didn’t leap to contest.

The shot clanged off the rim.

Biyombo secured the rebound once more, and the Magic pressed the fast break. CJ Wilcox seized the opportunity, sinking the ball smoothly into the net.

79 to 96—the Magic cut the deficit by two.

"Iman, calm down! He’s just a rookie!" Veteran Richard Jefferson, barely back on defense, whispered to Shumpert. The team still led, but Jefferson, seasoned by years in the NBA, sensed something was off with his teammate. Mindset, he knew, was everything.

"Relax, Richard, I’m an old pro," Shumpert replied, understanding the advice. This time, he abandoned the ball, sprinting ahead to the front court, using screens to move without the ball, hoping to shake Wu Rui and nail a shot to steady himself.

The Cavaliers, true to their championship pedigree, set high-quality screens. Shumpert found an open look, caught the ball, and fired without hesitation.

But he’d overlooked a crucial detail: his defender was number seven for the Magic—Wu Rui.

Now growing familiar with his new body, Wu Rui’s footwork was nimble. He slipped past the screens and chased Shumpert, leaping from behind just as Shumpert released the shot, delivering yet another chase-down block.

The ball landed in the hands of Magic backup guard DJ Augustin, who, like Wilcox before him, relished every fast break as a chance to prove himself.

Swish! The ball found the net. 81 to 96—another two points for the Magic.

On the sidelines, Cavaliers head coach Tyronn Lue could no longer sit still. He stood up, signaling for a timeout.