Chapter 62: The Action Wasn't Big, But It Was Insulting As Hell!
Paul Pierce looked pissed.
The man had always been all bark with a soft core, but when a rookie came at him with straight-up disrespect? Nah, he wasn't about to let that slide.
Next possession, Pierce made it clear—he wanted the ball.
After a quick pick-and-roll, he switched onto Chen Yan and immediately went into isolation mode.
Say what you want about Pierce's mouth or attitude, but on the court, he played tough. When someone came at him, he always responded. That's just how old-school stars moved.
This time, he ditched the back-down post play. Nah, he went face-up—straight-up one-on-one.
Cross.
Cross again.
Pierce kept that rock dancing between his legs, trying to find rhythm, all while watching Chen Yan's footwork closely.
Chen Yan, on the other hand, had [God-Level Steal] locked and loaded, ready to pounce. If he could get another clean swipe and take it coast-to-coast, they'd stomp the Raptors' momentum flat.
But he jumped the gun.
He lunged just a second too early. No real opening—he just gambled.
Pierce saw it coming a mile away. Dude calmly stepped back, gathered, and let it fly.
Swish!
Classic Paul Pierce—mid-range killer. The man had footwork smoother than jazz and a jumper that aged like wine.
Chen Yan's defense wasn't bad, but trying to solo Pierce at his prime footwork? That's a tall order for any rookie.
Pierce turned and barked in Chen Yan's face, loud enough for everyone courtside to hear:
"You reach again, I'll teach you again! Try me!"
Chen Yan didn't bite.
No reaction. No smack talk.
Because the Suns were already on the break.
Díaw fired a fast baseline outlet pass to Nash, who barely touched the floor before launching a silky one-handed bullet down the middle.
It was a lead pass. Long as hell. Only one man could catch it.
Nash had thrown that dime to Chen Yan in practice countless times. He knew his rookie's speed like clockwork.
While Pierce was still flexing his mouth muscles, Chen Yan hit the turbo and burned past him, tracking the ball like a bloodhound.
By the time Pierce realized it, Chen Yan had already crossed half-court with the ball in hand.
And then came the image that would haunt Pierce for years.
A slightly pudgy vet huffing and puffing in pursuit while the rookie took flight.
Gliding dunk.
Bang.
Chen Yan didn't just dunk. He floated to the rim like a damn phantom.
The Suns were known for their 7-seconds-or-less offense, but that possession?
4 seconds flat.
The arena erupted.
Fast. Clean. Vicious.
---
Meanwhile, on a college campus cafeteria:
"Holy shit! That was unreal!"
"Bro, racing Pierce is like putting a Prius up against a Lamborghini!"
"Why does it look like Pierce is chasing a cheetah on foot?"
"Chen Yan should just enter the Olympics, man. Let him run the 100-meter dash!"
"Have you noticed his speed with and without the ball barely changes? That's insane!"
"If his stamina was unlimited, I swear he could drop a hundred!"
"Man thinks he's in NBA Live or something—unlimited turbo mode!"
---
Back on the floor, Raptors' ball.
Chris Bosh finally touched the rock near the paint. Took four possessions to even see it.
Bosh was visibly annoyed.
From the way the offense looked so far, someone watching might've assumed Pierce was the franchise player and Bosh was just a role guy...
Bosh squared up against Stoudemire.
Pump fake. One hard dribble. Spin. Fadeaway jumper.
Buckets.
6–4 game.
People forget—before the Miami Big Three days, Bosh was that dude. The Raptors ran plays for him like he was royalty. Mid-range, post work, footwork—clean.
---
Díaw inbounded again. Nash pushed the tempo.
He used a screen from Stoudemire, slipped baseline, and circled around when the lane collapsed.
Fast-paced? Yes. Reckless? Nah.
The Suns weren't about chucking up shots just for speed's sake. It was about clean looks, high percentage. Seven seconds was the ideal—but only if it meant smart offense.
Nash kicked it to Raja Bell at the top.
Bell wasn't exactly a creator. Chen Yan knew it and came to meet him.
Quick handoff.
Bell slipped into a screen and clipped Anthony Parker just enough to give Chen Yan some daylight.
But Pierce had rotated early—ready for the one-on-one.
And he brought his mouth with him again.
The camera zoomed in. Pierce's lips were moving at warp speed. Straight-up machine gun trash talk.
Chen Yan didn't flinch.
He wasn't about that talk life. His replies came through buckets.
He crossed left.
Then right.
Then hit a huge crossover just to test Pierce's balance.
That was just the setup.
Quick behind-the-back, emergency stop, another behind-the-back.
Shake.
Shake again.
Pierce's ankles? They were already filing HR complaints.
Defensively, Pierce wasn't bad. Solid even. But his body just couldn't keep up with freaky-fast guards who could also shift directions like ghosts.
And Chen Yan? That was his whole bag.
Then came the blow-by.
Pierce bit hard on the shake and found himself stuck in quicksand.
The crowd stood.
They knew what was coming.
"Here it comes!" Barkley shouted from the broadcast booth. "Freeze pass special incoming!"
He'd bet Kenny Smith pregame that Chen Yan would break somebody's ankles tonight.
And now it was Pierce's turn to be that guy.
Chen Yan exploded past the helpless vet, pulled up at the free throw line, and let it go.
"Good shot! That move just snatched Pierce's soul!" shouted Yu Jia, unable to contain himself.
"Nobody rotated over, and Pierce was cooked. Smart decision on that mid-range," added Zhang Weiping, calm but impressed.
Swish!
Another perfect arc. Nothing but net.
8 straight points for Chen Yan.
He froze in his shooting stance for a beat, soaking in the sound of the West Arena losing its collective mind.
Rookies don't usually hand out lessons. That's the vets' job.
But tonight?
Chen Yan schooled Paul Pierce.
And fans loved it.
As the Suns transitioned into defense, Chen Yan and Pierce locked eyes.
Pierce was sure the rookie would start barking back, throw a jab, something.
But all Chen Yan did...
...was smile.
Then, with a calm point at Pierce's ankle, he mouthed:
"You good?"
No words.
No trash talk.
Just a surgical level of disrespect.
The action wasn't big.
But damn—it was insulting as hell.
[TL: Guys Im slowly losing interest continuing this fanfic cause of the lack of readers idk if ill continue this or not ]
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