When the final buzzer sounded, Lin Mo hopped over the spectator rail and squatted in front of the wheelchair before the boy could straighten his posture—he'd been leaning to hide the wince, Lin Mo realized. On the boy's phone, Towns walked down the player tunnel, his right knee still tilting slightly but straighter than before, like he'd been pushing through the ache too.
"He'll fix it next time." The boy smiled, but his fingers tightened around the tactical board, and Lin Mo noticed the fresh redness peeking above his prosthetic's edge, brighter than the photo from three days ago.
Lin Mo pressed his sweat-streaked tactical board into his hand, then gently pried the boy's fingers open, one by one, to ease the cramp. The system's final report was still visible: [Beyond victory: Detail resonance value 98%, emotional connection strength: Significant]. But Lin Mo's thumb brushed the boy's palm, where a blister had formed from gripping the sketch too hard.
In the distance, Booker clapped Miller on the shoulder; the guard hiked up his sock, stubborn sparks still in his eyes. "Look," Lin Mo nodded toward the court, keeping his voice soft, "The Timberwolves huddled, Edwards wiping his face with his jersey, his grin identical to yours when you first made a left-handed shot. All that fire? It hides the same thing. The 'am I enough?'"
A breeze slipped through the arena gaps, lifting the hem of the boy's T-shirt, and he shivered—not from cold, but a flinch. Lin Mo reached behind him, adjusting the wheelchair's tilt so the boy's weight shifted off his sore thigh. "Growth never only looks one way," he said, "And it's okay if it hurts. I see it, you know? The parts you're trying to hide."
Two trajectories of growth crossed under the lights—like the tangled arrows on the tactical board, all pointing toward something brighter. Before the system's screen dimmed, it left one last line: [The highest strategy is letting each other see growth]. But Lin Mo was already focused on the boy's face, watching the tension ease as the wheelchair adjusted. Some details, he thought, didn't need a system to read.