T/N:
I am back. The preparations for my mother's funeral are almost done. With her burial being in July. Certain procedures and African traditions are to be upheld, causing the date to be pushed back.
On the bright side of things, I will start chapter uploads. Again, thank you, and sorry for the wait.
It filled me with joy when I read your well-wishes. Thank you very much for them.
. . .
The second quarter turned into a quiet test of patience for the fans, especially for Li Ruoqi, who kept glancing toward the scorer's table with the same thought repeating in her head.
When was Lin Yi checking back in?
It felt longer than it actually was. In reality, Lin Yi sat for just under eight minutes. That short stretch still told a story. By the time he rose to return, the scoreboard read 46–39 in favor of the Knicks.
The gap had widened. New York's bench had done more than hold the line. They had pushed Miami further back.
In the middle of that surge stood Yao Ming.
Even after being subbed out for Tyson Chandler, Yao still looked fresh, composed, and fully in control. On both ends, he imposed himself in a way that left Chris Andersen with no answers.
One possession summed it up. Andersen tried to attack the rim and was denied twice in the same sequence. The arena reacted instantly. If it had been framed through commentary, it would have sounded like a challenge.
"Andersen goes right at Yao… blocked!"
"Gets it back, tries again… blocked again! Yao Ming just shut the door twice on the same possession!"
"The door is being shut in Birdman's face!"
There was no need for extra movement. Yao barely left the floor. A slight rise, perfect timing, and Andersen's attempt was erased.
On the other end, the mismatch was even more obvious. Andersen's size meant little even against a slender Yao Ming.
There was no finesse battle. This was direct contact, strength against resistance, and Yao dictated every inch.
Yao closed the quarter with eight points and four rebounds on perfect shooting.
Clean and efficient.
Lin Yi had spent those eight minutes recovering, and it showed. He looked sharper.
Miami, on the other side, kept adjusting on the fly. Dwyane Wade barely had time to sit before he was back in. Watching the Knicks rotate fresh bodies without losing intensity, LeBron James could feel the difference. The roster across from him had layers. Last year, injuries hampered them. This year it was a full force.
The Knicks accelerated the game.
By halftime, the scoreboard read 58–46. Lin Yi had already put up 20 points, five rebounds, and four assists without forcing anything. LeBron answered with 22. Wade added nine. Chris Bosh struggled to find space and was held to just two points.
The game had a direction.
It was pointing towards the Knicks.
From the sideline, Spoelstra saw the pattern clearly. The Knicks avoided Miami's strong stretches, then struck hard when the lineup thinned.
It was a precise surgical incision, leaving them wanting.
The third quarter opened with a flash.
LeBron drove, drew attention, and slipped the ball to Wade. In one motion, Wade twisted mid-air, flipped the ball off the glass from an impossible angle, and dropped it in. The Garden responded, even if it hurt the home side. Great plays earned respect there.
The score tightened to 58–48.
Moments like that reminded everyone what elite talent looked like. For players like Wade, sometimes difficulty did not matter; they got it done.
The Knicks answered immediately.
Chris Paul came off a screen from Lin Yi, hesitated just long enough to shift the defense, then lofted the ball high above the rim. It looked unreachable to everyone except one person. Lin Yi cut through the lane, elevated, and finished the alley-oop with one hand, clean and forceful.
The arena erupted.
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
Paul's timing stood out as much as the finish. Every pass met Lin Yi at the exact point of his jump, never too early, never too late. It turned athleticism into certainty.
"Nice pass," Lin Yi said as he tapped Paul's back.
Paul straightened up, satisfied.
Miami tried to respond again. LeBron pulled up from deep under pressure and banked in a three. Even he knew it was fortunate.
The score moved to 60–51, but the effort it took to gain those points was heavy. Every small run from Miami met an answer: two points, four points, a brief push, then resistance. The gap kept drifting back toward ten.
LeBron could feel where this was heading. If nothing changed, the margin would stretch further.
He refused to let that settle in.
His focus sharpened. The intensity rose. This was not a player willing to fade into a loss.
Lin Yi saw it immediately.
That shift in LeBron's mindset meant one thing. It was time to turn the game into a grind for him.
A pick-and-roll formed at the top, Lin Yi and Markieff Morris setting the angle. The target was clear.
LeBron would not get a break.
When Lin Yi waved for the isolation and found himself face-to-face with LeBron James, the arena leaned in.
"Stay here with me, Bron," Lin Yi muttered under his breath as he jabbed, then leaned into the drive. "You want a ring, work for it. No breaks."
LeBron had no choice but to lock in.
It didn't matter. Lin almost placed him on skates with a nasty crossover before pulling up from the free-throw line.
Bucket.
At 28, LeBron was in his prime, strong enough to handle almost anything. But even he had limits. Keep dragging him into contact, keep forcing him to react, and eventually the legs start to go.
If he had a crowbar in that moment, he might have actually swung it.
Fortunately for Miami, Dwyane Wade stepped in and steadied things in the third quarter. He came back aggressive, cheeks puffed, pushing the pace like he had somewhere to be.
Danny Green stayed in front as best he could, got beaten anyway, and just nodded to himself.
Because that was the trade. Wade would get his points. The Knicks just had to make sure he paid for every one of them.
…
Four minutes left in the third, and LeBron had seen enough.
He bent forward slightly during a dead ball, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling heavier than before.
"Coach," he said, shaking his head once. "I need a minute."
When he finally checked out, his jersey was soaked through.
That stretch didn't feel like basketball. It felt like hard labour.
In another timeline, the East belonged to LeBron. Year after year, he set the standard, and everyone else chased.
But this version of the league was different.
As long as Lin Yi was in New York, nothing came easy.
LeBron sat down, grabbed a towel, and let it hang over his head for a second.
"Man…" he exhaled. "Every year with these guys?"
No answer came. There didn't need to be one.
…
With LeBron resting, the Knicks adjusted.
Lin Yi slid to the four. The lineup shifted into something long, flexible, and balanced. Yao Ming took the middle, anchoring everything.
Lin Yi caught the ball at the high post and glanced inside.
"Big man," he called, lifting the ball slightly. "Go to work."
Yao sealed deep, got the entry pass, and took one strong dribble.
Then another.
Each step pushed Udonis Haslem back half a foot.
Haslem held his ground as long as he could, arms up, body locked in.
"Not tonight," he said under his breath.
Yao didn't rush. He waited for the right opportunity where Haslem was off balance. He turned, shoulder first, clean and controlled, and finished over him.
Back on defense, the Knicks barely reset before Yao had the ball again. This time, the double came from Chris Bosh.
Yao felt the pressure immediately.
He planted his foot, gave a slight fake with his left hand, and for a split second, both defenders shifted the wrong way.
The arena paused.
Then he spun back, rose, and hammered it down.
The reaction hit a beat later.
Madison Square Garden exploded, the chant shifting instantly from Lin Yi to Yao's name.
On the TNT broadcast, Shaquille O'Neal just shook his head.
"That's old-school," he said. "Nothing fancy. You know what's coming, and you still can't stop it."
…
The Knicks' defense tightened after that.
Lin Yi rotated over on Wade, met him at the rim, and pinned the attempt off the glass. Yao secured the rebound and, instead of waiting, started forward himself.
For a moment, it felt like a throwback.
Mario Chalmers reached in, trying to poke the ball loose.
Yao calmly pulled it behind his back, kept moving, and crossed half-court without breaking stride.
He slowed near the top of the arc.
No one stepped up.
He looked at the rim, set his feet, and let it go.
The shot dropped clean.
Swish.
Shaq raised his arms in surprise.
"Alright," he said. "That's new."
…
Miami called a timeout.
On the sideline, Erik Spoelstra turned toward LeBron.
LeBron was still catching his breath, but he already knew he had to come on.
"Yeah," he said, standing up. "I'm good."
Spoelstra gave him a once-over and sighed.
He gave LeBron a firm pat on the back.
"I'm sorry, but I need you."
…
Out of the timeout, Miami went small.
LeBron at the four, Bosh inside, shooters spaced everywhere. Ray Allen and Vince Carter flanked the perimeter, Wade handling up top.
Lin Yi took one look and nodded.
"Alright," he said. "They're shooting."
"Focus."
First possession, Ray Allen came off a screen, caught, and released in one motion. Klay Thompson was right there, hand up, perfect contest.
Didn't matter.
Swish.
On the other end, Yao didn't force it. The double came again, and this time he kicked it out without hesitation.
The ball swung to the corner.
Lin Yi had been waiting.
Quiet. Still. Patient.
He rose, released, and didn't even look.
He turned toward the Knicks fans and, almost casually, snapped his fingers.
A split second later, the net snapped behind him.
Clockwork.
The sound said the rest.
Madison Square Garden answered with a roar that rolled from one end to the other.
. . .
Miami never found a rhythm.
Every time they tried to string together a run, New York cut it off early. A stop here, a rebound there, then a clean possession on the other end.
Control was the name of the game.
By the fourth quarter, the difference in size and physicality started to show more clearly. The Knicks were getting to their spots with less resistance, while the Heat had to work for everything.
It caught up with them.
Those earlier series against the Chicago Bulls and the Indiana Pacers had already taken something out of Miami. Both matchups were heavy, physical, and draining. Against a deeper and stronger Knicks team, there wasn't much left to tap into late in the game.
When the final buzzer sounded, the result was clear.
Game 1 of the 2013 NBA Eastern Conference Finals went exactly as expected.
Knicks 110, Heat 97.
. . .
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