From the commentary booth, Kenny Smith leaned slightly toward Charles Barkley, still watching the court where Lin Yi and Kobe were trading possessions.
"Charles," he said casually, "didn't we forget something? Lin's birthday hasn't even passed yet."
Barkley paused for a second, then immediately understood what Kenny was implying.
The two had worked together long enough for that kind of shorthand to land instantly.
Barkley quickly glanced at the scoreboard and the individual stats.
The numbers were already rising fast.
Less than five minutes into the first quarter, Lin Yi had 14 points. Kobe had 11.
Even for a game that had started at full speed, that pace stood out.
Shaquille O'Neal, sitting nearby, leaned back with a long sigh.
"Man, you two are doing too much," he said. "If you keep looking for patterns like that, I'm calling the league office."
No one took him seriously.
Not because he was wrong, but because games like this rarely stayed within logic for long.
American basketball culture had always left room for narratives, coincidences, and superstition. Fans built meaning out of streaks, patterns, and timing. Sometimes it was an analysis. Sometimes it was just storytelling.
And when two superstars started trading isolation possessions, storytelling usually won.
. .
The crowd was already fully engaged.
Lin Yi and Kobe had turned the game into a direct matchup, each possession answered immediately by the other.
The rest of the players stayed spaced out, watching the rhythm develop more than trying to interrupt it.
On one end, Lin Yi backed down his defender and finished another clean layup through contact.
On the other hand, Kobe responded with a controlled pull-up over the defense, the kind of shot he had taken hundreds of times in his career.
Neither side looked rushed.
Neither side looked willing to yield.
The scoreboard read 16 to 13, Lakers trailing by three.
Critics watching shook their heads again.
In their view, games were usually decided by structure, spacing, and execution. What he was watching felt closer to a long duel than a system.
But the arena did not see it that way. The crowd was fully invested, reacting to every possession as if it carried its own weight.
For fans, it was about two elite scorers answering each other possession after possession, without hesitation.
By the end of the first quarter, the pattern had become clear.
Lin Yi would score. Kobe would answer.
Kobe would hit a tough shot. Lin Yi would respond in kind.
Around the league, players watching on broadcast had the same reaction: confusion mixed with attention, the kind that only comes when two stars take over the rhythm of a game.
Even social media lit up in real time, with reactions from fans and players treating every possession like a headline.
On the court, none of that mattered.
Lin Yi brought the ball up again, already reading the next matchup.
Kobe was waiting.
. . .
At that moment, it almost felt like James Harden had become the only qualified audience member in the league.
Was an MVP required just to join the conversation now?
In Houston, Harden took a quiet photo of the night sky, the gesture meant as a simple pause. Nothing more.
But Rockets fans immediately turned it into something else entirely.
"Stay strong, Harden. MVP season loading."
"Don't overwork yourself. Rest early."
"If anyone disrespects Harden, we are not ignoring it."
Within hours, the meaning had drifted far from the original intent.
Harden himself never commented.
He was, in fact, still training, just not in the way people assumed.
. . .
Back at Staples Center, play resumed after a timeout.
During the break, Mike D'Antoni glanced at Lin Yi with a look that sat somewhere between admiration and resignation. It was more like a silent message: finish the job and keep it moving.
On the other side, Byron Scott stood with Kobe, speaking after a long pause, choosing his words carefully.
Whatever was said, it stayed brief. Kobe nodded once and returned his attention to the court.
Lin Yi exhaled slightly as he stepped back in.
The pace had not slowed; if anything, it felt like it had locked into a loop.
Kobe's intensity was still there, unchanged. Every possession carried the same weight, the same focus, the same refusal to give ground.
Lin Yi finally understood something.
This was why Kobe could drag games into long, exhausting duels. It was not just skill. It was persistence applied without interruption.
Still, Lin Yi did not mind.
If the game was going to be this kind of battle, then there was no reason to hold back.
He could work with that.
On the next possession, he went back to the post.
Simple. Direct. Efficient.
A clean bump, a controlled turn, and another finish at the rim.
18 points.
On the broadcast table, Charles Barkley raised his eyebrows.
"Do you think he's got a chance at a big first-quarter number here?" he asked.
Kenny Smith glanced at the stat sheet.
"It's possible," he said, "but right now he's basically living off two-point plays. That kind of pace is harder to stretch than people think."
Shaquille O'Neal leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.
"You two are already talking about records in the first quarter," he said. "Just watch the game."
Under normal conditions, he was right.
But this game was not staying normal.
Lin Yi looked across at Kobe again.
Kobe was already ready.
Smiling slightly as he gestured his hands towards Lin Yi to bring it, waiting for the next possession like it was the only one that mattered.
For a brief moment, Lin Yi's focus drifted.
Then he reset.
If this was going to continue, then he might as well keep scoring.
. .
Tonight, something inside Lin Yi felt unusually sharp. The Limitless Range badge in his mind seemed almost restless, as if it rejected the idea of him spending the entire game grinding through physical isolation battles.
A scorer like him was not meant to live in contact-heavy possessions.
The badge flickered again before shining brightly.
God Mode activated.
On the next possession, Kobe rose into another clean pull-up over the contest.
It looked good, but it missed.
Morris boxed out aggressively, secured the rebound, and immediately fired the outlet pass to Lin Yi.
A faint smile appeared on Lin Yi's face as he turned upcourt.
Kobe was already retreating, but that expression made him hesitate for half a beat.
On the broadcast table, Shaquille O'Neal narrowed his eyes.
"What is he about to do?"
It sounded less like commentary and more like concern.
Lin Yi crossed half-court at speed.
Kobe picked him up instantly.
Then Lin Yi shifted gears.
A sharp crossover created just enough separation.
Kobe reacted immediately and turned to recover.
But Lin Yi never intended to attack the rim.
He stopped hard.
Two steps beyond the arc.
The step-back came clean.
Kobe's momentum carried forward just enough to open the window.
Even he knew it the moment it happened.
Lin Yi rose.
Full extension with a clean release.
The ball left his hand without hesitation.
The arena went quiet in anticipation.
On the broadcast, Shaq leaned forward.
"No way…"
Stephen Curry, watching at home, raised his arms instinctively. Ayesha, equally shocked, stared at the screen.
The ball dropped cleanly.
Swish.
A beat of silence hit Staples Center before the reaction exploded.
On the Lakers bench, Nick Young stared at the court.
"That is not normal," he said quietly.
Lin Yi was already backpedaling before the replay even started.
His 21st point of the night.
A shot that stretched distance into a different category.
On the other end, Kobe had already brought the ball up again.
The Black Mamba answered immediately.
For Kobe, that ultra-long three-pointer did not feel any different from a routine catch-and-shoot. When he found rhythm, distance stopped being a limitation. The game simply adjusted to him.
In those moments, his style shifted further away from structured offense and closer to instinct. The resemblance to Michael Jordan was often mentioned, sometimes exaggerated, but not entirely without reason. The footwork, the timing, the shot selection under pressure. It was all there in fragments.
Still, even Jordan himself might have raised an eyebrow at some of it.
That shot selection was not exactly textbook.
But none of that mattered when the ball went in.
Swish.
The reaction inside Staples Center was immediate.
What had been a brief explosion of noise for Lin Yi's deep three was answered almost instantly by Kobe on the other end. The crowd barely had time to settle before the game tilted again.
The broadcast tables across networks reacted at once, voices overlapping as both players refused to slow the pace.
Then Lin Yi brought the ball up again.
He crossed half court and pulled up.
This time from even deeper.
The release looked effortless, almost automatic.
The ball climbed high, then dropped cleanly through.
Swish.
For a brief moment, the arena froze before erupting again.
Shaquille O'Neal leaned back in disbelief.
"Yeah, I've seen enough," he muttered.
The Knicks' bench reacted immediately. Mike D'Antoni did not even bother hiding his expression anymore. It was less coaching now and more resignation mixed with amusement.
On the floor, Klay Thompson rushed toward Lin Yi, grabbing his arm as he had just witnessed something beyond normal shooting mechanics.
"Let me touch the hands," Klay said, half serious, half stunned. "That has to be some kind of basketball magic."
Lin Yi looked at him for a moment.
Then shook his head slightly.
"Focus on your own shots."
Klay nodded quickly, still smiling.
Even with the chaos on the court, there was a strange balance between them. Mutual respect, built on nothing more than shared confidence in shooting from impossible distances.
Lin Yi glanced at the scoreboard.
4 minutes and 57 seconds left in the quarter.
24 points already.
A thought surfaced briefly.
This pace might be something worth testing.
He turned slightly toward the bench.
Maybe it was time for a different conversation with D'Antoni.
. . .
During another timeout, Kobe sat on the bench like a boxer between rounds, receiving treatment from the team doctor while calmly catching his breath.
Beside him, Byron Scott handed him a water bottle. From a distance, the scene looked less like a basketball timeout and more like a corner man preparing his fighter for the next round.
One more round.
One more exchange.
One more answer.
What the Lakers did not realize was that while they were still preparing for another round of one-on-one basketball, the Knicks were already adjusting.
Mike D'Antoni had seen enough.
If there was a chance tonight for Lin Yi to challenge his own single-quarter scoring record, then there was no reason to hold back.
Besides, opportunities like this did not come often.
With Paul sidelined, the ball belonged to Lin Yi.
After the timeout, play resumed.
By this stage of his career, Kobe's explosiveness had naturally declined. He could no longer attack the rim possession after possession like he once had. His offense relied more on rhythm, footwork, and touch.
Unfortunately for the Lakers, Lin Yi's Limitless Range state still had a little time remaining.
Wanting another opportunity from deep, Lin Yi intentionally gave Kobe a step.
The result created one of those moments people would remember for years.
Kobe exploded forward.
The first step was sharp enough.
The second step carried him into the paint.
The 34-year-old rose toward the rim, and despite nearly losing his balance in the air, he finished with a powerful one-handed dunk.
Staples Center erupted.
Charles Barkley rolled up his stat sheet and used it as a microphone.
"This," he shouted, "is basketball!"
The crowd answered him.
"BASKETBALL!!"
The Knicks quickly inbounded the ball.
Lin Yi crossed half-court.
Kobe had barely retreated when Lin Yi stopped.
Pull-up.
Release.
Before the ball even reached the rim, Lin Yi had already turned around and crossed his arms as the cameras got the name and Number of his back shirt.
Joey Crawford, standing nearby, instinctively extended three fingers.
Swish.
Twenty-seven points.
Kenny Smith nearly climbed over the desk.
"My God! We've seen great games before, but not like this in a while!"
At this point, nobody could tell who was answering whom anymore.
Was Kobe responding to Lin Yi?
Or was Lin Yi responding to Kobe?
Perhaps neither.
Perhaps both.
Most players build their careers around a few memorable answer shots.
Tonight, the answer shots were arriving every possession.
Kobe bent over briefly, catching his breath.
After receiving the ball from Jordan Farmar, he attacked again.
A quick crossover.
A shoulder fake.
Then the fadeaway.
Swish.
Kobe had already scored 18 points.
On the other end, Klay Thompson and Danny Green immediately sprinted up the floor.
The moment Lin Yi crossed half-court, both players moved into position.
Elevator screens.
A classic Knicks action.
Except the screens were being set several feet farther from the basket than anyone expected.
Lakers defenders froze.
Surely he wasn't shooting from there.
Surely not.
Lin Yi came off the screens.
One dribble.
Gather.
Rise.
The final seconds of his hot streak were ticking away.
Release.
Even before the ball reached its peak, Nick Young had already raised both hands from the Lakers bench. Robert Sacre immediately grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down.
Wrong bench.
The ball dropped.
Swish.
Thirty points.
With three minutes remaining in the first quarter, Lin Yi had already reached 30 points.
Even Shaquille O'Neal could only stare at the scoreboard.
The script had completely escaped him.
This time, the Lakers finally changed.
Kobe did not isolate.
And just as Pau Gasol completed the pick-and-roll and prepared to crash the offensive glass, the ball suddenly appeared in his hands.
Kobe had passed.
For a brief moment, even Staples Center seemed confused.
That man.
He actually passed the ball.
Shaquille O'Neal stared at the replay from the commentary booth with a complicated expression.
Gasol finished easily at the rim, but Shaq hardly reacted to the basket itself.
Kobe had changed.
A younger Kobe might have continued the duel with Lin Yi until the final buzzer. Possession after possession. Shot after shot, even if he was tired to the bones.
But this Kobe understood something the younger version of himself refused to accept.
Lin Yi was younger.
Bigger.
Fresher.
And perhaps, at this stage of their careers, more efficient in a pure scoring duel.
More importantly, Kobe understood his own body. He no longer had the luxury of fighting a forty-eight-minute war through isolation basketball alone.
Lin Yi felt strangely disappointed.
The pass button had returned.
But perhaps that was simply what time did to great players.
At Staples Center, the Knicks quickly pushed the pace.
Kobe no longer guarded Lin Yi.
Instead, Pau Gasol stepped forward.
Somewhere in Memphis, Marc Gasol probably felt a sudden chill for his brother.
Klay Thompson initially moved to set a screen before quickly realizing it was unnecessary.
Lin Yi was already attacking.
One step.
Two steps.
His footwork flowed smoothly as he accelerated past Gasol.
Pau reacted, but his feet simply could not keep up, as he got dropped.
Lin Yi switched the ball from his left hand to his right and exploded toward the rim.
He detonated the bomb.
Boom.
The dunk shook the basket.
Thirty-two points.
The record was beginning to feel real.
The Lakers answered.
Gasol operated from the high post, drawing the defense before finding Jodie Meeks for an open three.
The Knicks immediately pushed back.
Lin Yi attacked in transition, lowering his shoulder as he drove directly at Gasol.
Contact.
Whistle.
The ball dropped.
And one.
Joey Crawford pointed toward the basket.
Lin Yi stepped to the free-throw line and calmly converted.
Thirty-five points.
At this point, even many Lakers fans had stopped worrying about the score.
They wanted to witness history, but not at their expense.
At the commentary desk, Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith could only stare at the stat sheet.
Staples Center had gradually become something entirely different.
For one quarter, it belonged to Lin Yi.
The Lakers scored again through Gasol inside.
The Knicks answered immediately.
This time, Klay Thompson and Danny Green executed a perfect elevator screen.
Lin Yi curled along the baseline and emerged at the right wing.
Livingston delivered the pass.
The catch, rise, and release were smooth and clean.
The ball splashed through.
Swish.
Thirty-eight points.
A new NBA single-quarter scoring record.
Charles Barkley's voice echoed throughout the broadcast.
"Before his twenty-fourth birthday, Lin Yi has written his name into NBA history once again."
. . .
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