NBA: Northeast China's spectacular dunks sweep the entire league.

Chapter 33 Heading to Auckland! A Cross-Border Visit

The Pacific monsoon, carrying California's warmth, swept past the floor-to-ceiling windows of Oakland International Airport and bumped right into Zhang Qingying, who had just stepped out of customs.

She was still wearing a simple off-white knit sweater and jeans, her long hair loosely tied back with a plain hair tie, her face showing the fatigue of a long flight of more than ten hours, but her eyes, which were always covered with a layer of coolness, shone as if they were filled with stars. There was a small Warriors No. 1 sticker on her carry-on suitcase, which she had specially bought at the domestic airport before departure, the corner of which was slightly curled from being rubbed by her fingertips.

"Miss Zhang, we've been waiting for you!"

Zhao Dabao, holding a sign that read "Zhang Qingying," jogged over to take the carry-on suitcase from her hand, his face beaming with a smile. This agent from Northeast China, who had followed Lin Hao all the way to America from Fengtian, spoke in hushed tones, afraid of startling the girl before him—he knew all too well that his fearless, unassuming man was utterly tender-hearted when it came to this girl who could sing in a high-pitched voice.

"Brother Zhao, thank you for your trouble." Zhang Qingying nodded slightly, her voice still soft as ever, but carrying an undisguised urgency. "Is he... still in the training hall? Didn't you tell him I was coming?"

"Don't worry! He's very tight-lipped! He hasn't revealed a single word!" Zhao Dabao patted his chest to assure her, carrying his suitcase towards the parking lot as he muttered to her, "Canned Food Bro has been in closed training these past few days, spending all his time in the gym, either practicing three-pointers or analyzing Lakers' tactical videos. He even eats his meals there. You two had a bit of a tiff over the commentary thing, and although he didn't say anything, he's been glued to his phone during training breaks, scrolling through your interviews. He's practically obsessed."

Zhang Qingying's cheeks flushed slightly, and her fingertips gently gripped the hem of her clothes.

Two weeks ago, Lin Hao scored 35+ points in each of his five consecutive regular season games, and a domestic live streaming platform specially hired her as their exclusive commentator. She watched all three games with fans, and her smile was undisguised whenever Lin Hao was mentioned on camera. But as soon as this ended, her management company was in an uproar. The executives called her into their office and berated her for two whole hours, saying that she was abandoning the path of a top singer and insisting on being associated with a basketball player, thus lowering her own value. They also forced her to issue a statement to sever ties and forbade her from touching anything related to Lin Hao again.

She didn't argue or make a scene; she simply told the company calmly that the narration was her own choice and declared that she would never release it. She then turned down all her commercial performances, variety show appearances, and recording gigs, leaving her assistant only with the words "I'm going to America," before buying a one-way ticket and flying across the Pacific Ocean alone.

She wanted to tell him in person that her previous hesitation and helplessness were no match for her desire to stand by his side and watch him play basketball.

The car drove all the way to the entrance of the Warriors' training facility, and through the glass wall, you could see the figure inside wearing a blue training uniform.

Lin Hao stood outside the three-point line, repeatedly practicing his catch-and-shoot motion. The basketball seemed to have eyes in his hands; each time he raised his hand, it swished through the net in a perfect arc, the swishing sound clearly audible even through the closed glass door. Every jump, every release, was as steady as if frozen in time. Sweat streamed down his forehead, soaking the back of his training uniform, yet he didn't even flinch.

Richardson was leaning against the technical table, happily munching on a can of peaches, when he looked up and saw Zhao Dabao and Zhang Qingying by the door. He almost spat out the peach in his mouth and yelled, "Holy crap! Canned peach guy! Look who's here!"

Lin Hao had just released the basketball, which was flying in an arc towards the basket, when he heard the shout and instinctively turned around.

At that glance, his hand froze instantly, as if he had been nailed to the spot.

The basketball bounced off the front of the rim and rolled to his feet, but he didn't even look down. His eyes were fixed on the familiar figure in the doorway, his expression shifting from initial shock to disbelief, and finally to an uncontrollable smile that gradually spread across his face.

He even forgot he was still on the court, striding over as he walked, shoving open the glass door, his Northeastern accent trembling slightly: "Ying'er? What brings you here?! Didn't you say you had work at the company and couldn't get away?"

"I turned it down." Zhang Qingying looked at him, who was covered in sweat, and couldn't hide the smile in her eyes. She reached out and gently wiped the sweat from his jawline. When her fingertips touched his hot skin, she flinched slightly. "I wanted to come and see you train, and I also wanted to... say something to you."

His teammates behind him erupted in cheers, crowding behind the glass door to watch the spectacle, whistling and jeering. Richardson tossed the can aside and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Hey, sister-in-law! Welcome to Auckland!"

Upon hearing the word "sister-in-law," Zhang Qingying's cheeks instantly flushed red. Lin Hao turned and glared at Richardson, but couldn't suppress the smile on his lips. He naturally took her handbag, his other hand lightly supporting her waist, and walked towards the training hall: "Don't listen to their nonsense. These people are so irresponsible. Aren't you tired? You've been on a plane for over ten hours, why don't you find a hotel to rest first?"

"I'm not tired, I just wanted to come see you first." Zhang Qingying followed him into the training hall, her gaze sweeping over the row of canned yellow peaches on the sidelines and the ebony suona in the corner. She couldn't help but smile, "Looks like your winning buff has never stopped."

"Absolutely!" Lin Hao grinned, pulling her to a chair by the sidelines and opening a bottle of warm water for her. "Our Northeastern darlings are always with us. By the way, did the company say anything about your visit? You told me before that they didn't want you to mention me anymore. They didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

Mentioning this, Zhang Qingying's smile faded slightly, but she still shook her head and looked earnestly into his eyes: "Lin Hao, I had a bit of a disagreement with the company about the commentary incident. They said that my association with you would damage my image as an artist, and they forced me to issue a statement to distance myself from you, which I did not agree to."

She paused, her voice soft yet firm: "Before, I always thought about the company's arrangements and my own singing career, so I didn't dare to openly support you. But then I realized that I am myself first, and then the singer Zhang Qingying. You are giving your all on the court to achieve your dream, and I want to stand by your side, to be the one who can support you the most, instead of hiding behind the screen, hesitating even to speak up for you."

Looking at the seriousness in her eyes, Lin Hao felt as if his heart had been gently bumped by something, and it softened completely.

He had always thought that he, a rough-and-tumble NBA player, was not the same kind of person as a cool and aloof girl who worked in music. Last time, when she was blocked by her company, the two of them had a little argument on the phone, and he thought that their feelings for each other were going to be lost across the Pacific Ocean. Unexpectedly, she actually crossed half the world and stood in front of him, saying these words to him.

He reached out and gently took her hand. Her hand was slightly cool, and it trembled slightly as he held it in his palm, but she did not pull away.

"Silly girl." Lin Hao's voice softened, devoid of his usual playful banter with his teammates, replaced by genuine seriousness. "I've never blamed you. I understand better than anyone the feeling of being unable to control your own destiny. Your presence makes me happier than winning ten games."

Their teammates had already discreetly moved to the other side to train, and even the head coach, passing by, smiled and gave them a thumbs up before quietly leaving without disturbing them.

Lin Hao attended the team's closing banquet that evening with Zhang Qingying.

The previously noisy private room fell silent for two seconds the moment the two entered, then erupted into laughter and applause. Richardson was the first to rush forward, holding up his drink and shouting, "Welcome our sister-in-law! From now on, the Warriors' home anthem will depend on you and Canned Food Bro!"

Zhang Qingying greeted everyone with grace and poise. Throughout the meal, Lin Hao stayed by her side, and when someone tried to persuade her to drink, he smiled and turned them down, explaining to his teammates, "She can't drink, so come at me."

After the meal, the entire team was completely charmed by this seemingly aloof but actually gentle and insightful girl. Even the head coach smiled and told Zhang Qingying, "Lin Hao is the core of our team. With you here, he can play even more steadily. Come to watch games often in the future. We'll always reserve the best seats for you at the Warriors' home arena."

It was already late at night when they returned to Lin Hao's apartment after the dinner.

The night view of Oakland streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. On the coffee table in the living room, there was still the Lakers tactics video he hadn't finished watching, and the well-worn youth training notebook. The words "Chinese basketball, one day" on the title page were clearly visible under the warm yellow light.

Zhang Qingying walked to the coffee table, gently stroking the words, then turned to look at Lin Hao leaning against the doorframe, and said softly, "I wrote a song for you, a special support song for you. I brought the demo with me, would you like to hear it?"

Lin Hao's eyes lit up, and he immediately leaned closer: "I have to hear it! It's a song written by my wife, I have to be the first to hear it!"

Upon hearing the word "wife," Zhang Qingying's face instantly turned red, but she didn't refute it. Instead, she took out her tablet and opened the audio file.

The gentle piano music flowed out slowly, followed by her clear voice. The lyrics told his story of how he went from a small county in Chaoyang, Liaoning, to the NBA court. They described his amazing performances with his suona horn, his stubbornness in making game-winning shots while injured, and his words etched in his bones: "Chinese basketball will one day be great."

In the chorus of the song, there was a blank melody. Zhang Qingying looked up at him, her eyes shining: "I want to add a section of your suona here, just like when we recorded 'Northeast People on the Court' before. Your suona is the soul of this song."

Upon hearing this, Lin Hao felt a fire burning within him, making his whole body feel hot. He reached out and pulled the girl into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, his voice muffled: "Ying'er, thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" Zhang Qingying leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat, and a sweet smile curved her lips.

"Thank you for coming halfway around the world to see me, thank you for understanding me." Lin Hao looked down into her eyes and said, word by word, "Zhang Qingying, be my girlfriend. From now on, I want you to be there for every game I play; every suona melody I play is only meant to accompany you."

Zhang Qingying's eyes instantly reddened. She nodded vigorously, reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest, and softly murmured "Mmm."

Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on the two people embracing.

Lin Hao looked down at the girl in his arms, his smile never fading. He picked up the ebony suona placed beside the sofa, put it in his mouth, and spontaneously played a gentle tune, "Crescent Moon at Dawn," melodious and tender, carrying his unconcealed feelings, circling again and again in the quiet apartment.

After the song ended, he lowered his head and gently kissed Zhang Qingying's forehead, smiling as he said, "We're playing the Lakers at home next week, and I'll take you there. I'll show you how your boyfriend shoots the ball over Kobe's head."

Zhang Qingying smiled and nodded, reaching out to wipe the drool from Suona's mouth, her eyes sparkling: "Okay, I'll go cheer you on. No matter how many you make, I'll be there for you."

She traveled halfway around the world, not to see his glory, but simply to reach that boy on the court who never gave up and whose eyes always shone with light.

And his boy, with the basketball in his hand and that ebony suona, would give her the grandest answer.