Chapter 166: The Fake Shoe Scandal and Durant's Transformation
Outside the team hotel, a wave of fans had been waiting for hours.
The moment the Suns players stepped off the bus, the crowd erupted.
"Chen! I love you!"
"Chen Yan, can I get a picture?"
"Steve! The forever MVP!"
"Amar'e, you were a beast tonight!"
The players, still riding the high from their win, stopped to take photos and sign autographs. Even the bench guys like Barea and Azubuike smiled as they slipped quietly inside—they knew most of the cheers weren't for them. The crowd was here for the stars: Chen Yan, Steve Nash, and Amar'e Stoudemire.
Chen was patient as always, signing jerseys, posters, and sneakers. He had one rule, though—he only signed Li-Ning shoes, his official sponsor.
But then he froze.
A fan handed him a pristine white-and-gold pair of sneakers. His eyes widened.
Wait… weren't those his AeroWing signature shoes? They weren't even officially released yet.
Chen raised an eyebrow at the young Asian man holding them. "Hey, where'd you get these?"
The fan grinned proudly. "My buddy sent them from Putian."
Chen blinked. "...Putian?"
The guy nodded, chest puffed out like he'd just scored a sneaker grail.
After three seconds of stunned silence, Chen chuckled. "Man, even the fakes came out early."
He took out a marker and signed them anyway—on the sole—then snapped a quick photo with his phone. He planned to send it to the Li-Ning team with a message that basically said: You'd better release the real ones soon. Fans are buying counterfeits.
The next morning, the story blew up online.
"Bro got Chen to sign fake shoes before the real ones dropped. That's elite fan behavior."
"That pair is now one-of-a-kind—a counterfeit signed by the real deal!"
"But who's gonna believe you when you tell them Chen signed your knockoffs?"
"Chen is way too nice. Kobe would've just tossed those into a trash can."
"Putian industry strikes again!"
The internet had a field day.
---
Meanwhile, Chen's record-breaking streak continued dominating headlines. Six straight 40-point games. Sports networks were running out of adjectives.
ESPN called him "the most electrifying rookie since LeBron."
Bleacher Report ran a headline: "He's Not the Next Kobe or Iverson—He's the First Chen Yan."
Basketball columnist published a feature breaking down the numbers:
"Six consecutive 40+ games—no rookie has ever done this. Even Durant, with his green light, hasn't reached that mark. LeBron and Carmelo each did it once as rookies, both scoring 41. The data doesn't lie—Chen Yan is on a different level."
The article went viral within hours.
---
Back in Boston, Kevin Durant sat at his breakfast table, scrolling through the NBA app on his tablet.
There it was again: Chen Yan, Chen Yan, Chen Yan. Six 40-point games. Historic run. Record shattered.
Durant exhaled quietly. A mix of awe and jealousy welled up inside him.
He respected Chen—he really did—but he couldn't help the sting of seeing someone his age dominate every headline. It wasn't new to him, though.
In high school, he'd been ranked #2 in the nation, right behind Kelsey Barrs III.
In college, he'd been overshadowed by Greg Oden.
Now, in the NBA, his former teammate Chen Yan had stolen the spotlight again.
Durant clenched his jaw. He didn't hate Chen—but he wanted that spotlight, too.
He looked back at his own stats. He'd scored plenty, but never hit 40. He knew why. It wasn't just shot selection or confidence—it was stamina.
To drop 40 consistently, you needed superhuman endurance. Guys like Wilt, Jordan, Kobe, and Iverson didn't just score—they outlasted everyone.
Durant stared at his reflection in the dark tablet screen. "If I'm gonna reach that level… I need to toughen up."
He pushed back his chair, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the gym.
He didn't wait for his trainer. Didn't even check the schedule.
The facility lights flickered on, casting long shadows across the empty court.
Durant laced up his shoes, tightened his wristbands, and whispered to himself, "Let's get to work."
The sound of the basketball echoed through the gym—rhythmic, relentless.
Every jump shot, every sprint, every sweat drop was a promise.
He wasn't going to be second forever.
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