Outside a movie theater in Westwood, Los Angeles, a moderate line of people waited.
Link wore a baseball cap, the brim pulled low, but his height made him stick out in the crowd regardless.
"I still think we should have booked a private screening," Andrew grumbled as he fished out the tickets. "You're a star now. It'll be a hassle if you get recognized."
"It's just a movie." Link glanced at Amy beside him.
She wasn't wearing her usual knit cardigan today. Instead, she had on a dress, her hair let down loose.
Sensing his gaze, Amy turned her head. "What?"
"Nothing," Link looked away. "Just think you..."
"Hmm?"
"...look different than usual."
Amy raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.
The moment the three walked into the lobby, they were spotted.
"Hey! You're Link! Prophet Lin!" A boy looking about fifteen or sixteen rushed over, a bucket of popcorn in his hands.
"Can I get a picture with you?"
Link paused.
Beside him, Andrew immediately switched into agent mode. "Of course, but the movie is starting soon, so let's make it quick."
The boy excitedly pulled out his phone, and Andrew expertly found the right angle.
Link stood next to him cooperatively. The boy nearly spilled his popcorn in excitement.
After sending the fan on his way, Andrew handed the tickets to the usher and lowered his voice.
"See that? That's fame. More people are going to be asking for your autograph from now on."
The theater wasn't huge, about seventy percent full.
They found their seats and sat down.
The lights dimmed, and the opening music began to play.
Glory Road. The title slowly appeared on the screen.
The movie was set in 1966. It told the true story of Coach Don Haskins leading the Texas Western College Miners to defeat the Kentucky Wildcats and win the NCAA championship.
The most remarkable part of the film was that the Miners' starting lineup was all-black.
In 1960s America, this was unimaginable. It was an era of white supremacy, where black skin meant you struggled to get playing time.
This movie existed in Link's previous life too.
But the difference was, in this timeline, Link's existence had brought a change.
Perhaps the director thought adding a yellow-skinned Asian player would create more dramatic tension. So, by coincidence, Link had a cameo role.
He played a reserve guard for the Miners. Not many lines, but he had a full training scene.
"When did you film this again?" Andrew whispered.
"Offseason, July," Link stared at the screen. "Spent two weeks in Texas."
The movie reached its midway point.
On screen, the Miners were training in a humble gym.
Sweat soaked their jerseys; sneakers squeaked against the floor.
Coach Haskins stood on the sideline, his voice hoarse but powerful.
"What do you think you're here for? To play basketball? No. You're here to prove something—to prove you belong."
The camera panned across young black faces, their eyes filled with defiance and anger.
Among them was the Asian reserve, Link.
The camera focused on Link again.
On screen, "Link" wore a retro jersey. He caught the ball on the baseline, dribbled past half-court, and pulled up for a jumper over a defender.
His form was textbook perfect.
Swish.
Off-screen, Coach Haskins shouted, "Again! Think about how they look at you!"
On screen, "Link" ran back to the baseline, caught the next ball, and repeated the shooting drill.
Someone in the theater whispered, "That's Link from the Lakers, right?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"Not much screen time though..."
Andrew snickered beside him. "Hear that? The audience recognized you."
Link didn't say anything.
Watching himself on the big screen felt a bit strange. It was definitely a novel experience.
Just as the movie was reaching its climax, a sudden incident broke the quiet.
The screen was showing the championship game. The Miners faced the all-white Kentucky Wildcats. The score was tight, time running out.
Link noticed a white teenager in a staff polo shirt in the corner of the theater. He held a broom and dustpan, quietly sweeping popcorn crumbs from the aisle. His movements were light, afraid to disturb the audience.
At that moment, the boy stopped working. Standing in the shadows, he stared unblinkingly at the screen. The flickering light played across his face; he was completely engrossed, forgetting his job entirely.
The movie hit its peak.
Final moments of the game. The Miners' point guard drove, facing a double team, and hit an incredible turnaround fadeaway jumper.
Bucket!
Championship!
A huge cheer erupted from the screen.
Caught up in the moment, the boy involuntarily raised his broom, knocking over a trash can standing against the wall.
CLANG!
A loud crash. Trash spilled all over the floor.
The heavy noise drew everyone's attention. Several audience members turned around, frowning in obvious annoyance.
The boy frantically used his broom to clean up the mess. Once done, he hurried away.
Moments later.
The movie ended, credits rolling.
When the lights came up, Link instinctively looked toward the corner. The boy was gone.
As the crowd filed out, the three of them moved with the flow.
Passing the restrooms, Link told Andrew and Amy, "Wait for me at the entrance. I'll be right there."
Coming out of the restroom, Link was surprised to hear an angry tirade coming from the staff room next door.
"You idiot! Can't even do the simplest things right! That's a day's pay docked!"
The door wasn't fully closed. Through the crack, Link could vaguely see a middle-aged man shouting furiously.
Next to him, a thin figure stood with his head down in silence. It was the boy who had knocked over the trash can.
Not long after, the boy came out of the office, nearly running headfirst into Link.
"S-sorry," he stammered. "I'm leaving..." He kept his head down, trying to walk away.
"Wait," Link said.
The boy stopped and turned around.
Up close, he looked even thinner. The polo shirt hung loosely on his frame. He had faint freckles and messy hair. His dark brown eyes were filled with embarrassment.
"How old are you?" Link asked.
"Sixteen..." the boy looked down.
"Like basketball?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded slightly.
"Not in school?"
Link tried to keep his voice gentle.
The boy's voice dropped. "Dropped out last year."
"Why?"
The boy pursed his lips, his fingers unconsciously picking at the hem of his shirt. "Family... needed me to work."
Link was silent for a few seconds.
In this era, the high school dropout rate wasn't low. Many left for reasons involving gangs or drugs. But this kid clearly wasn't that type.
For some reason, Link felt a pang of sympathy. Maybe it was his own past experiences. Or maybe it was the love for basketball the kid had shown.
"What's your name?"
"Ian... Ian Ravena."
"Can you play?"
"Yeah... played varsity my freshman year at Brentwood..."
Link looked at the silent, head-down Ian, then pulled Andrew's business card from his pocket.
"Ian, if you still want to play, call this number. Tell them Link told you to call."
The boy took the card, his hand trembling slightly. He looked at the card, then at Link, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Link continued, "The Lakers training facility needs part-time ball boys on weekends. Pays better than here. And..."
He paused. "You can use the court after the players are done training."
Ian's breathing noticeably quickened.
He opened his mouth but couldn't say anything, just gripping the card so tight his knuckles turned white.
"Think about it," Link said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away.
Back in the lobby, Andrew came up to him. "What took so long?"
"Met an interesting kid." Link briefly explained the situation.
Andrew's eyes widened. "You just gave him my number? What if he's a scammer..."
"He's not a scammer," Link said. "Have you ever seen the eyes of someone who truly wants to play ball?"
Andrew was speechless.
Amy asked softly, "You want to help him?"
"Maybe..." Link looked out at the Los Angeles night. "Sometimes... one chance can change everything."
He knew that look in Ian's eyes all too well. A mix of longing, embarrassment, and a glimmer of disbelief. It was just like... just like himself on the first day he walked into the Lakers gym after his rebirth.
Link shook his head, pushing down the drifting thoughts.
The car drove into the night.
Sports news was playing on the radio. The hosts were discussing the Lakers' upcoming schedule.
Andrew turned up the volume.
"Next game, the Lakers host the Nuggets. Kobe faces his old rival Allen Iverson..."
"Last season, the Lakers pulled off an upset against the Nuggets in the playoffs. Will this be Denver's revenge game? Let's wait and see!"