Chapter 82: Redefining Reasonable—Chen Yan Goes Berserk!
Kobe Bryant stormed back to the bench, frustration written all over his face.
Mbenga, Mihm, and the rest of the benchwarmers rushed to hand him a towel and a bottle of water, trying not to make eye contact. No one dared to speak. Even an idiot could tell—Kobe was pissed.
This was his house. Staples Center. The big screen wasn't about to replay the highlight of Chen Yan dunking over him. But it didn't matter. That play was stuck on a loop in Kobe's head.
Sure, it wasn't a clean poster. Kobe was sprinting back on defense—it's hard to get full elevation when you're chasing. But excuses didn't matter to Kobe. He was a competitor to the core.
He needed to get it back.
With 19,000 fans packed into Staples, Kobe was ready to take over.
The timeout ended. The game resumed.
As soon as Fisher brought the ball past half court, Kobe motioned for the hand-off.
Old man Fisher didn't argue. He knew Kobe. Knew that look. They'd been teammates since '96. He quietly drifted to the corner, giving the court to the Black Mamba.
Kobe bit down on his jersey. His eyes burned with intensity.
Chen Yan's brows furrowed. He knew what that meant—when Kobe started chewing the jersey, it was go-time.
Facing Raja Bell, Kobe went into his bag—cross-step dribbles, rocking left and right.
Then—boom—explosion to the right!
Bell, a defensive specialist who'd studied Kobe's game like scripture, stuck with him. But Kobe powered through the contact, hit a behind-the-back dribble, then step-back!
Separation.
Kobe rose up for the fadeaway. Bell challenged the shot, but the ball kissed off the glass—money.
Mamba footwork.
The crowd roared.
Bell had played perfect defense, and still got burned. That kind of bucket messes with a man's soul.
But Kobe wasn't smiling.
He was just getting started.
Now, he wanted to lock down Chen Yan.
On the other end, Nash brought the ball up. After a pick-and-roll with Stoudemire, he swung it to Chen Yan on the opposite wing.
Chen caught it in rhythm—gave Kobe a left-right fake, watched his balance shift…
Then pulled up cold.
Swish.
Chen Yan stayed hot, draining a long two without hesitation.
Back to the Lakers' possession.
Kobe danced again—this time, after the screen, he found himself matched up with Stoudemire.
Mismatch.
Stoudemire was agile for a big, but not quick enough for Kobe.
Kobe jabbed, faked, then rose into a high-arcing jumper.
Boris Diaw rotated over for the double-team.
Didn't matter.
Splash.
"Kobe nails it again! Double-teamed, and he still finds the bottom of the net," Zhang Weiping shouted on CCTV5.
Yu Jia sat beside him, trying not to laugh. "Seriously? We're calling that a reasonable shot?"
Back down the floor, the Suns responded fast.
Chen Yan caught the defense napping.
He blew past Fisher, weaved through Radmanovic, and met Kobe at the rim.
Signature move time.
[Magic Shadow].
He shifted mid-air from Kobe's left to right. Kobe tried to recover, swiping from behind.
Too late.
Chen twisted mid-air and finished the layup with a graceful pull-back.
"Beautiful finish by Chen Yan!" Yu Jia said, voice rising. "That's what I call control! Took it coast-to-coast and made it count!"
Zhang Weiping nodded, risking another compliment. "A very reasonable shot. Used his speed, footwork, and timing. Can't argue with that one!"
The fans at home burst out laughing.
"Grandpa Zhang's redefining reasonable tonight!" one viewer joked online.
Back to the Lakers.
Kobe was back on his bull.
Dribbled sideways, found his spot.
Raja Bell contested perfectly—hand right in his face.
Didn't matter.
Buckets.
The Staples crowd went nuclear.
Kobe was 3-for-3 since the timeout. Every single shot had been tough. Ridiculous, even.
But this was the Kobe zone. That same energy he had going against Iverson, McGrady, and Arenas back in the day.
Inside the TNT studio, the commentary team was losing it.
"Aw, man! Kobe's locked in!" Barkley howled. "He didn't even consider if that was a good shot. He just shot it!"
"Chen's just as wild, though," Kenny Smith added. "It's turned into a two-man show here in the third!"
Reggie Miller laughed, "Forget five-on-five, just clear the floor. Let Kobe and Chen go one-on-one. Everyone else grab a seat."
And honestly? That's exactly what it looked like.
Suns ball again.
Chen Yan posted up near the free-throw line.
Nash hit him with a sharp entry pass.
Quick spin.
But Kobe was still right there, sliding his feet like he was glued to the court.
Chen didn't panic.
He leaned in, powered toward the lane, then suddenly spun again, creating just a sliver of space.
Kobe recovered, stuck to him like a shadow.
Chen took one step sideways—then elevated.
No hesitation.
He was feeling it.
Kobe reached up, contesting at full stretch.
Chen hung in the air, adjusted, and twisted for a drifting layup.
His body twisted mid-air like a dancer mid-spin, and the ball kissed the glass...
Bang!
It went in.
Every fan watching at home lost their minds.
"OH MY GOD! THAT ACTUALLY WENT IN?!"
"Kobe played textbook D!"
"That's elite shot-making, bro. Like... not human."
This wasn't the first time tonight Kobe had done everything right defensively—only for Chen to still score.
Chen Yan was in the zone.
Fisher? Too slow.
Radmanovic? Too soft.
Even Kobe, in full Mamba Mode, couldn't stop him.
Chen was gliding around the court, combining tight handles with explosive footwork, carving through the Lakers' defense like a hot knife through butter.
16 points...
18 points...
21...
23 POINTS.
All in the third quarter.
With 2:14 still left on the clock.
Chen Yan was unleashed. Like a damn floodgate had burst wide open.
He wasn't just hot.
He was scorching.
He was taking over Staples Center—and Kobe damn well knew it.
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