Chapter 201: A Decisive Blow That Couldn't Be Written in the Script!
"Great shot! That's how you do it!"
LeBron James high-fived Joe Johnson with excitement as the Eastern Conference bench celebrated. With that clutch three-pointer, the East had taken the lead, and James knew exactly what was at stake. If they held on, he would almost certainly walk away with the All-Star MVP trophy—and he wanted it badly.
He didn't say it out loud, but everyone around him knew. LeBron was taking this seriously.
Meanwhile, on the Western bench, the mood was the complete opposite. Every player's expression had turned grim.
There were 8.9 seconds left. One last chance.
Miss this shot, and they'd lose—not just the game, but the spirit of the entire All-Star weekend.
One question filled the air:
Who would take the final shot for the West?
The broadcast camera panned across the bench, stopping on Chen Yan.
The fans roared.
Three buzzer-beaters in the regular season, all-time leader in clutch finishes—Chen Yan had built a reputation for moments like this. And tonight, with 30 points already on the board, he was clearly the hottest hand on the floor.
With Mike D'Antoni coaching, the fans naturally assumed the play would be drawn up for him.
But when D'Antoni gathered his players and spoke, he shocked everyone—he handed the ball to Chris Paul.
It wasn't a bad choice. After all, this was Paul's home arena in New Orleans. He'd been brilliant all night, tallying 16 points and 14 assists. If anyone deserved the last possession, it was the hometown star.
Coming out of the timeout, D'Antoni revealed his lineup:
Paul, Chen Yan, Ray Allen, Carmelo Anthony, and Dirk Nowitzki.
An all-shooter lineup. Pure spacing, pure offense.
The plan was simple—play it free. Paul would control the ball, but whoever got the best look would take the shot.
On the other end, the Eastern Conference countered with Billups, Wade, LeBron, Rasheed Wallace, and Dwight Howard.
The whistle blew.
Dirk Nowitzki inbounded from the sideline.
The New Orleans Arena was deafening. Every fan in the building stood up, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
The East locked in on defense, switching everything, denying every passing lane. The air was filled with the squeak of sneakers and the thud of bodies colliding.
The intensity had risen to playoff levels.
Five seconds into the inbound count, the West still hadn't gotten the ball in.
Then—movement.
Chen Yan darted across the baseline, drawing both Wade and LeBron's attention. At that same moment, Paul used Anthony's screen to break free near the top of the arc.
Dirk fired a long pass just before the five-second violation. Paul caught it cleanly.
Eight seconds left.
LeBron switched immediately, stepping in front of Paul.
A 1v1 duel between two of the league's best.
The crowd counted down.
"Eight! Seven! Six!"
This was Paul's home, but the cheers were for both men.
LeBron crouched low, locked in. Paul dribbled slowly, eyes flicking between LeBron's feet and the clock.
He didn't rush. He knew patience wins clutch moments.
Then—attack.
Paul made a sharp crossover through his legs, slipping left. He found a sliver of daylight and pushed forward.
But LeBron's speed and strength were unreal. He mirrored Paul perfectly, cutting him off.
Paul hesitated for half a beat, realizing forcing a shot here would be suicide.
He planted, spun, and kicked the ball toward Anthony at the free-throw line.
Melo caught it, ready for his hero moment, shoulders squared.
But Wade saw it coming. The moment the ball left Paul's hands, he launched toward Anthony for the steal.
Before Wade could reach it—
"Snap!"
The ball was gone.
Chen Yan appeared out of nowhere, intercepting Paul's pass before Melo or Wade could touch it.
For a split second, everyone froze.
Wade's eyes widened. Paul looked shocked.
Chen Yan smirked. "Before you steal it, I already did."
Without hesitation, he took two explosive steps backward, retreating beyond the arc.
Four seconds left.
One dribble.
He rose into the air.
A pull-up three-pointer over a closing LeBron James.
The ball soared high, spinning in slow motion, tracing a perfect arc under the blinding arena lights.
The buzzer countdown echoed.
"Three… two… one…"
Chen Yan held his follow-through, his right arm raised, body frozen in perfect balance.
"Bang!"
The ball clanged hard off the front rim and bounced high into the air.
The crowd gasped.
For half a second, it felt like time stopped.
Then—
"Swish!"
The ball dropped straight through the net.
129–130.
The buzzer blared.
"BANG!!!" Charles Barkley screamed from the commentary booth, his voice nearly cracking. "That's unbelievable! A steal from his own teammate and a buzzer-beater to win the All-Star Game!"
Kenny Smith was shouting over him, "Are you kidding me right now?! That's straight out of a movie!"
The entire arena erupted.
Fans jumped, hugged, screamed—some couldn't even believe what they'd seen.
Social media exploded instantly:
"Steal from teammate and buzzer-beater? Chen Yan's built different!"
"Mr. Big Heart does it again!"
"Who needs a script? He is the script!"
"LeBron's MVP dreams just vanished, hahaha!"
In a quiet Chicago apartment, Kevin Durant sat in front of his TV, watching the replay.
He stared at the screen in silence, then sighed and turned it off.
His former teammate had just hit a game-winning buzzer-beater on the biggest stage in the world.
Durant felt a storm of emotions—admiration, frustration, and determination all at once.
He couldn't deny it. Chen Yan was on another level.
After a few seconds of thought, Durant stood up, grabbed his gym bag, and headed out the door. There was only one way to close that gap—train harder.
Back in New Orleans, inside the VIP box, NBA Commissioner David Stern sat frozen.
He blinked a few times, completely stunned.
Finally, he leaned back and muttered to himself, half laughing in disbelief.
"This… this wasn't in the script. No one could've written that."
The crowd's roar continued to shake the arena long after the buzzer faded.
Chen Yan had just sealed one of the most unforgettable endings in All-Star history—
a play so perfect, even Hollywood couldn't have scripted it.
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