007: Nothing Worth Mentioning, Just an Unworthy Opponent (Please Vote for Monthly Tickets!)

Wu Lan had always felt a sense of guilt for being unable to attend her son’s games in person.

In Serbia, professional clubs provided free tickets to the families of their youth players. However, as the sole chef at her restaurant, Wu Lan’s absence would cause the entire establishment to grind to a halt.

Consequently, she rarely saw Lin Qi play, and today was no exception.

Although Lin Qi’s game was being broadcast on television that evening, every screen in the restaurant was tuned to the bitter rivalry match between Red Star and Partizan. There was no helping it; you couldn't exactly walk up to a crowd of fans teetering on the edge of madness and ask them to change the channel. Unless, perhaps, you were showing them the weather forecast for South Korea.

And so, Wu Lan was unable to watch her son’s performance on TV. Amid the roar of the exhaust hood, she remained distracted, wondering what was happening on the court and whether Lin Qi might get hurt.

Red Star won the derby that night, and the fans in the restaurant erupted into merciless, frenzied cheers.

"Kill those blue-skinned dogs from Partizan!"

"Hahahaha, Boss! Another bottle of rakija! I mean, a bottle for everyone wearing a Red Star jersey!"

"Hey, look at the ticker at the bottom—the Partizan youth team lost! And they lost by 23 points! Hahahaha, there couldn't be a more beautiful night than this!"

As the Red Star fans raised their bottles toward the television, Wu Lan’s gaze locked onto the scrolling news ticker at the bottom of the screen.

FMP won. And it showed Lin Qi’s stats as... 21 points, 18 rebounds, and 8 blocks?

Wu Lan’s first reaction was that the television station had made a mistake. It wasn't that she didn't believe in her son; it was that she didn't believe in the country’s television stations.

Years ago, during the Bosnian War, a news report had listed the names of fallen Serbian soldiers. Just as mothers, wives, and children across the country were overcome with heart-wrenching grief, the news anchor had uttered a bizarre correction: "Oh, apologies, we made a mistake—this was the list of survivors." (A true story).

Therefore, Wu Lan remained skeptical of these statistics. 21 points was understandable; with a bit of luck, one could achieve that. But 18 rebounds and 8 blocks? Wu Lan didn't know much about basketball, but she wasn't completely ignorant either. She figured only Darko Miličić could put up numbers like that in all of Serbia.

Yet, this string of data filled her with anticipation. What if... what if Lin Qi really did it?

At ten o'clock that night, the Red Star fans, still buzzing, prepared to find another venue to continue their revelry. After seeing off the final group of customers, a weary Wu Lan sat behind the register. Once the kitchen staff finished cleaning up, she would finally be able to end her day.

Just as she sat down to take a sip of water, she heard a long-awaited voice.

"Mom, I'm home."

Lin Qi walked into the restaurant with his bag, ready to head home with her. Wu Lan’s eyes scanned her son like a CT scanner. Her first question was: "Are you hurt?"

After receiving a negative answer, a hint of joy appeared on her tired face. "I told you that Chinese knot would work."

Only then did she ask the question that others would consider the most important: "The news said you won. How did you do? 18 rebounds and 8 blocks—is that true?"

"Of course it's true, but the opposition wasn't very strong, so it’s not worth mentioning."

This was Lin Qi’s honest feeling. Even though Sekulić and Gajić were well-known, after facing them, Lin Qi didn't think they were all that impressive. They were just average.

"That's my son, doing so well in your first game back from injury. That’s why I always say, drink more milk and less soda—it’s the right way to go. Do you know why Darko Miličić is so popular even in America?"

"Uh... is it not because Serbia provides him with free milk?"

"Wrong. It’s because his mother bought a black-and-white cow to raise at home. That cow’s only duty was to produce milk, which was then carefully boiled and sent into Darko Miličić’s stomach. (A true story). I’m thinking, should I raise one too? That way, you could get 10 blocks in a single game next time."

Lin Qi: "..."

"Alright Mom, there will be plenty of stats like this in the future. By then, there won't be enough cows in all of Serbia for you to squeeze. Let's go home; I want to sleep."

Back in his room, Lin Qi opened the system interface. After today's game ended, a new notification had appeared before him:

【At 30 years old, you have finally debuted in an official match. Congratulations on completing your first official game. You have gained 2 Talent Points.】
【Mall system unlocked.】

He had been too busy with interviews to look closely at what the mall and Talent Points really were. Now that he was free, he could finally see what was new. Opening the store, Lin Qi found three available items:

【Increase shooting ceiling to J.R. Smith’s level. Price: 200 Talent Points.】
【Increase perimeter defense awareness ceiling to Eric Snow’s level. Price: 200 Talent Points.】
【Increase passing ability ceiling to Jason Williams’ level. Price: 180 Talent Points.】

It appeared to be a store selling potential; once the talent was purchased, one could reach the corresponding level through training. And as expected, they were all talents of role players.

But Lin Qi wouldn't look down on them now—he had already tasted the joy of having a role player's specialties combined into one person. The appearance of this store meant that Lin Qi’s future development path was highly diverse; his potential could almost be called infinite.

God is fair most of the time; He sets a talent barrier for every player to avoid the emergence of a perfect being. Most players have their own shortcomings in talent, and these shortcomings are nearly insurmountable throughout their careers.

You don't really think Shaquille O'Neal never practiced his free throws, do you? But the ceiling of his free-throw ability was just as low as Jermaine O'Neal's. No matter how hard he trained, fans would never see the day the "Shaq" shot 70% from the free-throw line in a season. Dwyane Wade was never an elite jump shooter throughout his life; Andrew Wiggins’ handle doomed him to never become Kawhi Leonard; and Dwight Howard was destined to be a "high-level blue-collar worker" his whole life. The Admiral had all the conditions to become a perfect player, yet God took away his brave heart.

Only Michael Jordan broke through the firewall set by God, but there has been, and only ever will be, one such person in history.

And now, the existence of this mall was equivalent to smashing God’s scale, giving Lin Qi the chance to use "Talent Points" to break those barriers.

It was just... these things were so expensive!

At 2 Talent Points per game, even if Lin Qi wanted to buy the cheapest item—"White Chocolate" passing—he would need to play 90 games. Unless there were missions to earn Talent Points, this was going to be an incredibly difficult grind.

Looking at the striking prices and the glaring "Remaining Points: 2" in the corner of the interface, Lin Qi was annoyed. If you didn't want to give rewards, you could have just said so!

Since he couldn't buy anything, Lin Qi closed the system interface. But as he did, another prompt appeared:

【Attention: Products refresh every three months. Do not miss out on items you desire; consider carefully.】

Hah. This was like a salesman at a Rolls-Royce dealership asking a delivery driver passing by: "Sir, are you really not going to reconsider this car? It might be sold in three months."

Consider? This wasn't something he needed to consider! For now, the mall wasn't of much use to him. His primary goal remained maxing out the potential from the Moses Malone template, then gaining weight and refining his post-up game.

The next morning, when Lin Qi woke up, breakfast was set on the table as usual, along with the unwavering staple: a large, steaming glass of milk.

Wu Lan had to go out early every morning to buy ingredients for the restaurant, so she was usually gone by the time Lin Qi woke up. The only thing he saw of her each morning was the breakfast she left behind. But today, besides the food and milk, there was a sticky note:

"Don't dwell on whether your opponent was weak or not. Good stats are good stats. Be happy, keep it up!"

Elsewhere, after purchasing her ingredients, Wu Lan was busy preparing for the day ahead in the restaurant. A burly man in a dark jacket with graying hair walked in. The Patek Philippe on his wrist caught the light. He chose the most conspicuous seat and deliberately flicked the dust off his handmade Italian leather shoes.

Wu Lan immediately stood up to greet him: "Sir, what would you like to eat?"

"A bowl of beef noodles, no green onions." His tone was arrogant and cold.

"Very well."

After ordering, the man stopped Wu Lan: "Are you Lin Qi’s mother?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"Hello, Madam. My name is Miško Ražnatović. You should have heard of my name." This godfather-level agent, who held the pulse of European basketball in his hands, held out a gold-embossed business card with his fingers. After watching the game tape of Lin Qi the previous night, he had rushed to Serbia overnight. He was certain that Lin Qi was someone he could not miss.

After handing over the card, Miško lifted his chin proudly, waiting for the woman before him to tremble with tears or gaze at him with admiration. He had seen that look of admiration too many times. As the most influential basketball agent in all of Europe, no mother could remain calm upon meeting him. Because the children he chose all eventually became wealthy through basketball and changed their lives. His appearance was like the descent of a deity to most families.

In North America, there were many people like him. But in Europe, an agent with such close ties to the NBA was rare; he was a man who could cover the sky with one hand. Indeed, Miško’s influence was not limited to Europe. Currently, about ninety percent of European players in the NBA were his clients. Many years later, he would even send a chubby kid rejected by Barcelona to the NBA, completely changing the landscape of the league. That kid was named Nikola Jokić. Of course, that was a story for another time.

In short, in front of an ordinary woman, a successful man like Miško had the capital to be proud.

Wu Lan smiled after looking at the card, but her response made the corner of Miško’s mouth twitch.

"Uh... sorry, sir, I really haven't heard of you."

Miško: "..."

"It’s like this, Madam, I am a... slightly well-known professional basketball agent. Last night, your son’s performance was simply astonishing. If you allow it, I would like to speak with your son in person."

"Performance was astonishing? Hahahaha, it wasn't that good. His opponents were very weak last night, not worth mentioning."

This was the second time today Wu Lan had shocked Miško.

The starting center and starting guard of the Serbian U18 national team... were weak!? What kind of family was this!

Wu Lan blinked in confusion, not knowing why this man named Miško looked so surprised. Lin Qi had indeed said his opponents were weak yesterday; otherwise, how could he have grabbed 18 rebounds and recorded 8 blocks?

Miško Ražnatović realized that this lady and her son might not be simple! They turned a blind eye to the top agent in Europe and looked down on the U18 Serbian players. Perhaps some even more famous agents from America had already contacted them—he had to compete with those guys from North America!

Yes, with Lin Qi’s talent, only a fool of an agent would remain indifferent. Look at Yao Ming’s commercial value; despite not having played a single minute of an NBA regular season game, he was already one of the most famous players on the planet with the greatest commercial potential. In this day and age, who would want to miss out on a Chinese player?

In Miško’s heart, his status and Wu Lan’s had been swapped. He no longer held his head high, and he tucked his Patek Philippe watch back into his sleeve.

"Madam," Miško Ražnatović stood up and bowed slightly. "I know I may not be the most famous person to come and see you, but please believe me: if you and Lin Qi ever need any help, I will be the first to arrive. You can call the number on the card if you ever encounter any difficulties, at any time, 24 hours a day. Perhaps the day you need my help will never come, but I hope you remember that I am your loyal friend. Of course, if you could agree to let Lin Qi meet with me, I would be very, very grateful!"

After finishing, Miško sat down to eat his beef noodles. After just one bite, he exclaimed: "Holy Mother of God, this is Michelin three-star quality!"

Wu Lan: "..."

"Sir, please compose yourself. I still think you looked more normal when you were being arrogant."

After finishing the noodles, Miško bowed politely again and left. Wu Lan looked at the burly man walking away and the exquisite business card in her hand, filled with confusion.

Was he lying? It was just a game against a weak opponent, right? Why would a basketball agent come knocking?

Just then, a group of fans wearing FMP jerseys and holding newspapers arrived at the restaurant door.

"Look, this is it!"

"Right, the paper says this is Lin Qi’s family restaurant!"

"Let’s go, guys! No one leaves without spending at least 1,000 Serbian dinars! Let’s support our genius with our actions!"

They rushed into the restaurant and began ordering. Wu Lan didn't know what was happening. First an agent, then fans coming to spend money. Was the opponent Lin Qi defeated not "not worth mentioning"!?

Confused, Wu Lan glanced at the newspaper the fans had brought, and her eyes widened in shock.

*You brat, you call a U18 national team player "not worth mentioning"!?*

-----------------

*21 points, 18 rebounds, 8 blocks—destroying the U18 national team’s interior! Lin Qi is Belgrade’s next basketball superstar!* — "Belgrade Courier."

*Last night, two starting champions from the Serbian U18 national team were destroyed by a player wearing number 10.* — "Belgrade Sports Daily."

*Yes, just like the story you heard, I gave up the number 10 voluntarily. You know, Lin Qi is my brother; giving up a number between us is nothing.* — Luka Modrić, answering in an interview with "Belgrade Frontline News."

*Lin Qi and Miloš Teodosić—the FMP youth team might produce two NBA-draftable players at once. But before that, let’s guess how long it will be before they enter the senior team.* — "Belgrade Evening News."