On the morning of the 27th, Yao Ming found Lin Yi near the team area. He wore a faint, knowing smile.
"Lin," Yao said, lowering his voice slightly, "it's settled. You're carrying the flag tonight."
Lin Yi paused for a second. The flag bearer of the Chinese delegation had almost always come from the men's basketball team—a tradition broken only once, back in Rio.
This time, though, the choice barely surprised anyone.
In terms of visibility alone, no one in the delegation came close. Lin Yi had topped the Forbes Asian Celebrity List three years in a row, and beyond the numbers, his image—open, confident, steady—fit perfectly with how the delegation wanted to present itself.
Inside the men's basketball team, there had been discussion, of course. But the meeting was just routine, since everybody knew the flagbearer.
Yi Jianlian glanced at Lin Yi with a mix of amusement.
Lin Yi scratched his head and turned back to Yao Ming. "Brother Yao… wouldn't it make more sense for you to do it?"
Yao waved him off immediately. "I carried it in '04 and '08. That was my turn. Now it's yours."
The words sounded casual, but Lin Yi heard what wasn't being said. The team—and Chinese basketball—couldn't lean on Yao Ming forever.
This would be Yao's last Olympics. Lin Yi, meanwhile, had already become the face of a new generation. For the fans back home, seeing him at the front of the delegation felt right.
Lin Yi didn't argue anymore. He nodded. "Alright."
The team clapped him on the shoulder one after another. Carrying the flag at an Olympic opening ceremony wasn't just an honor—it was a responsibility.
By the afternoon, after spending so much time together, the basketball players had almost forgotten just how big Lin Yi's presence was outside their bubble.
That changed quickly.
All 248 athletes scheduled to attend the opening ceremony were gathered for a pre-ceremony briefing. While the officials went through the usual agenda, attention drifted elsewhere.
Toward Lin Yi.
Sun Yang. Ye Shiwen. Lei Sheng. Zhang Jike. Lin Dan. One by one, familiar faces stepped up—asking for photos, signatures, short chats.
When Liu Guoliang posed for a photo with Lin Yi, he turned to the photographer and said, completely serious, "Make sure you shoot this vertically."
That set off laughter from the table tennis players nearby.
Ma Long grinned. "Coach Liu, want us to grab you a stool?"
Liu Guoliang shot back instantly. "You still want to eat skewers back home or not?"
That shut everyone up.
Among athletes, food threats were absolute weapons.
Lin Yi's popularity was borderline big. Even walking casually through the Olympic Village, he'd occasionally be handed small notes from athletes of other delegations—short messages, vague invitations, places hinted at but never clearly named.
He ignored all of them.
"Basketball and Liz are enough for me," he said once.
Yi Jianlian wasn't convinced. With his unmistakable Guangdong-accented Mandarin, he laughed and said, "Got to keep an eye on you, can't have Elizabeth crying."
Lin Yi froze for a moment, then said seriously to him. "I will never do that to her."
Seeing how serious Lin was, he raised his hands in surrender. Maybe one too many jokes too far.
Meanwhile, the international media was piling on. The Associated Press listed Lin Yi among the three most-watched male athletes of the London Games—alongside Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps.
"This NBA MVP has brought his spotlight to London," one report read. "And the city can feel it."
When Chinese media confirmed that Lin Yi would carry the flag, fans back home reacted immediately.
A 4 a.m. opening ceremony in?
Worth it.
...
At dinner, Lin Yi barely had time to eat.
"Brother Lin," Hui Ruoqi asked, tray in hand, eyes bright, "what was it really like playing in the NBA?"
Li Xuerui leaned in. "Is it true you dunked from the three-point line?"
Chen Ruolin chimed in right after. "Someone said you did a 720 once?"
Lin Yi put a hand over his face. "Please… you believe everything you hear?"
Across the table, Sun Yue stared at the scene and muttered, "He really is popular."
Yao Ming tapped him lightly on the head. "Don't compete. Online terms—Lin's what they call a 'group favorite.'"
The basketball players exchanged looks, then silently focused on finishing their food faster.
Lin Yi, meanwhile, was still answering questions. And still hungry.
At 9 p.m. London time—4 a.m. in Beijing—the London Olympics finally began. The deep toll of the great bell echoed through the stadium as the ceremony unfolded.
Pastoral Britain. The Industrial Revolution. The Beatles. Trainspotting. James Bond. Mr. Bean. Harry Potter.
Lin Yi thought, privately, that Mr. Bean alone probably covered it.
Then came the parade of nations.
As Lin Yi stepped forward, flag in hand, he finally understood the weight behind Yao Ming's words that morning.
And now, it was his turn.
After the Chad delegation—the 40th to enter—passed through, a volunteer quietly stepped up and reminded Lin Yi that it was almost time.
Lin Yi lifted his head, straightened his shoulders, and took a steady breath.
Then he moved.
Holding the national flag, he walked into the London Olympic Stadium with firm, measured steps.
The CCTV commentator's voice rose with unmistakable excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you're now seeing the Chinese Olympic delegation entering the stadium, 42nd in order."
"The flag bearer is Chinese men's basketball star Lin Yi."
"Leading the team with calm, powerful strides—this year's NBA MVP. And with him, expectations for the Chinese men's basketball team have never been higher."
Only at this moment did he truly understand that flag—so light in fabric, yet impossibly heavy—had taken years of youth from countless athletes who carried it before him.
It wasn't just honor.
It was a responsibility.
Pressure.
Expectation.
Pride.
As Lin Yi stepped forward, countless Chinese basketball fans felt the same thing at once—
He had never looked this composed. Or this convincing.
The Five-Star Red Flag rippled gently above him.
The delegation followed closely behind, perfectly in rhythm.
Hui Ruoqi quietly raised her phone and snapped a photo of Lin Yi's back.
Nearby, the men's basketball players watched in silence.
Their thoughts drifted back to Beijing, four years earlier—when they had played on home soil and pushed the atmosphere to its limit.
Now, four years later, led by an NBA regular-season MVP, they were here again.
Facing the world.
Across the country, from city streets to quiet living rooms, cheers rose all at once.
"Long live China!"
When the delegation reached their assigned area, Yao Ming gave Lin Yi a firm thumbs-up.
"That was impressive."
Only then did Lin Yi realize how drained he was. His adrenaline was running high.
He finally understood the weight of that saying.
If you want to wear the crown, you have to carry its weight.
Praise always comes with pressure.
...
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