Ignorance isn't the worst thing. Arrogance is.
Wu Xia lei's lips parted slightly, her face frozen in shock, and the pen in her hand was barely steady.
Twenty minutes ago, she thought Lin Yi was joking.
A seven-footer saying his best skill was dribbling? That was like a 6'3" guy saying he wanted to play center in the NBA.
Maybe it's so kind of strategy? So Cuban coaches liked to keep their top players under wraps to throw off opponents.
Truthfully, most Chinese reporters barely knew anything about Lin Yi beyond "Chinese player in NCAA Division I." They didn't even know if he was a starter or how much playing ti he got.
Wu Xiaolei and Qi Jun? They were ahead of the pack—at least they were here, covering the ga in person.
Before coming, they hadn't been sure what to expect from the NCAA. The Southern Conference wasn't exactly famous. Most of the scouting reports they had were about Steph Curry. As for Lin Yi? They assud he was another big guy, soone like Yao Ming or Yi Jianlian.
Then—
"WOW! He did it again! Another insane connection between Steph and Lin! Steph with a dribble—feeds Lin up top—and look at that move! A deadly crossover… Stanford's center is completely lost! Lin Yi drills the three! His form, textbook!"
The Davidson College arena erupted.
Dell Curry, Steph's dad, watched proudly from the stands and nodded.
Steph's vision has improved a ton since last season
Like any parent, he was proud of his kid—no matter how much he pretended not to be.
Wu Xiaolei and Qi Jun?
Stunned.
And then, just as they were still processing, Lin Yi did it again.
A high-post drive—ridiculous speed for soone his size—he collapsed Stanford's entire defense in a second, kicked the ball out to the corner, and Steph nailed the three.
Wildcats!
Wildcats!
The crowd chanted, riding the montum.
"Our info was so off," Wu Xiaolei muttered. "Lin Yi's not just holding his own in NCAA Division I… He and Steph Curry are crushing it."
Qi Jun nodded, snapping photos. Reviewing them, he noticed that Lin Yi's shooting form was very good.
"Uh, Sister Xiaolei… isn't it normal for a big man to dribble? Yi Jianlian used to drive from the high post all the ti, right?"
Wu Xiaolei shot him a look. "Not even close! Yi relied on his speed—he mostly attacked in straight lines. Lin Yi's handling is like a guard's. I just asked so Arican reporters, and they said his dribbling is NBA-level."
Qi Jun scratched his head. "So… what's the big deal?"
"Think about it," Wu Xiaolei sighed. "Your favorite player is LeBron, right?"
"Yeah?"
"If LeBron was only 6 feet tall, would he still dominate?"
Qi Jun blinked. "Uh… no way."
"Exactly! Lin Yi is 7 feet tall. His bone age test puts him at 215 cm—second only Yao's height. And he moves like a wing, handles like a guard. He can get low when he dribbles, which centers just don't do."
She thought back to earlier—when Lin Yi casually bent down to pick up Qi Jun's phone.
Her face turned slightly red.
I thought he was ssing with when he said he was a dribble specialist…
"But… aren't centers supposed to dominate inside?" Qi Jun mumbled, still trying to wrap his head around it. "How's playing outside gonna impress NBA scouts?"
Almost as if proving a point, Lin Yi caught the ball in the post on the very next play.
So NBA scouts leaned forward in their seats.
Lin Yi planted his feet, feeling out Stanford's center, Hols. No rush. Deep breath. He bumped Hols once—then, in a flash, spun off him.
Way too fast!
Hols panicked, lunging to contest.
He bit hard on the fake.
Lin Yi, already one step ahead, froze mid-move, re-adjusted his balance, and gently scooped the ball into the hoop.
"DREAM SHAKE!", shouted the comntator.
Qi Jun almost dropped his cara. "Wait—what's a Dream Shake?"
Wu Xiaolei was still in shock. "It's Dream's Footwork! The move Hakeem Olajuwon made famous! He was the best center of his era, one of the greatest post-scorers ever!"
"Hakeem? The Rockets guy? Damn, that move was smooth."
"More than smooth," Wu Xiaolei said, shaking her head. "The Dream Shake isn't just about footwork—it takes agility, coordination, court vision, and confidence."
Qi Jun swallowed. "So… Lin Yi's got that kind of talent?"
Lin Yi wasn't just so soft, periter-loving big man.
He wasn't just a shooter.
He had real post skills.
Stanford's center? 130 kilos of pure muscle.
And Lin Yi had just toyed with him.
The crowd was losing it. The cheerleaders were screaming. NBA scouts had their notebooks out.
Lin Yi, anwhile, just looked at his own hands, surprised by how the move felt.
Steph suddenly slamd into him from behind. "BRO! THAT WAS INSANE!"
Lin Yi winced. "Man, give so warning next ti! That hurt!"
On the sidelines, reporter Javier Stanford chuckled. "Yup, I knew it. This kid's different. He's only been working on his post-ga for a month—give him another month, and people are gonna be shocked."
A lot of journalists were still chasing after stories about Hasheem Thabeet.
Big mistake.
They had no idea what kind of monster Lin Yi was becoming.
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