I Really Just Want to Hit the Iron

Auburndale, Florida, USA

There's a famous idiom in the USA: "Once in a blue moon — rarely. In Florida, the temperature drops below freezing only once in a blue moon."

There are many translated versions of this saying, but the meanings are mostly the same.

Simply put: in Florida, winter barely feels like winter. The people of Florida enjoy the pleasant weather that folks in London long for all year round.

"Pumpkin Head, I still think Coach Tai was deliberately targeting you last time."

In a citrus grove in Auburndale, a skinny Black boy looked over at his companion lying on the ground.

His companion had long, enviable legs and a pair of large hands. At that moment, while basking in the sun, he was peeling an orange with one of those big hands.

When he slowly sat up, his back looked slightly hunched — not because he couldn't straighten it, but because he didn't want to. That posture felt just right.

Like opening your eyes…

What a chore that is.

This lazy, laid-back comfort — to him, that's what summer vacation should feel like.

He takes another bite of citrus.

So comfortable~!

"Pumpkin Head, you eat Aunt Jasmine's oranges like that — aren't you even a little worried?" the Black boy asked, sounding concerned.

"It's fine. Aunt Jasmine is nice.

Look, if she really didn't want us here…

Why would her huskies get even more ferocious every time we show up?"

Pumpkin Head replied casually, neither fast nor slow.

"Kind of makes sense."

Even though something felt off, the boy who was clearly under Pumpkin Head's sway couldn't resist taking a bite of the orange tossed to him.

"It's sweet!" he laughed.

Summer break. Pure bliss.

But just as the two soaked in this quiet citrus-scented afternoon—

"Boss! Something's wrong!"

A chubby Black teen came running into the orchard, clutching a basketball, panting as he looked down at Pumpkin Head, who was still stretched out on the grass.

Pumpkin Head lazily cracked open one eye.

"Slow down, Coleman. What happened?"

He had grown up in a rough neighborhood. As a child, he had seen his cousin and his cousin's boyfriend shot in the street. Behind Pumpkin Head's sleepy gaze lay memories he'd rather forget.

So when carefree Coleman came rushing in breathless and panicked, Pumpkin Head grew uneasy.

If he could help it, he didn't want to lose anyone else.

He was born and raised in Auburndale.

Though he barely remembered his father, two women — Melanise and Roberta — gave him the love of two mothers.

He was once the king of the kids in Auburndale. Locals nicknamed him "Pumpkin Head" because he was so mischievous.

But all those happy childhood memories were shattered by gunfire — bang, bang, bang — leaving only blood in their place.

Pain and joy — that was his childhood.

"Damn! **** it!" Coleman gasped, mixing his words with a handful of classic American curse words.

Pumpkin Head stood up. He looked about fifteen or sixteen, and already stood six-foot-six.

Upright, he looked even taller.

Though lean, he was every inch the teenager.

"Tell me what happened," Pumpkin Head said, narrowing his eyes at Coleman.

"There's this… guy — an Asian guy — he's taking over our court!

He said if no one beats him one-on-one…

He won't give it back!"

"Does he follow the rules?" Pumpkin Head asked sharply.

"He does — that's why we can't find fault. And… he brought three bodyguards. Really tough ones," Coleman said, wide-eyed.

Pumpkin Head nodded. The "rules" referred to street basketball codes in America.

In the USA — which values freedom, peace, and democracy — to avoid violence on the court, there's an unwritten law: when it comes to ball, it's skill that speaks.

"He brought bodyguards? Interesting," Pumpkin Head said, dusting off his clothes. "Let's go. Time to meet him."

…

A street court in Auburndale.

A dozen well-fed Black teenagers were playing near the center of the court. Right in front of the ice cream stand stood the guy who had taken over their basketball court, performing his so-called "attention ceremony."

That's right—the one dominating the court was...

Su Feng.

Florida, as Su Feng saw it, was truly a great place.

It was always sunny, and even if he trained at four in the morning, he didn't have to worry about cold winds.

Truthfully, Su Feng didn't want to play the villain.

But the problem was...

His plug-in had gone rogue!

Kobe had gone off to the Adidas ABCD training camp.

And worst of all, on the first day, he even called Su Feng just to provoke him:

"Su, you don't even know! Lamar is amazing. Honestly, compared to him—you don't even come close."

Ugh!

Trash talk.

Complete betrayal.

To avoid giving Kobe another chance to crush his spirits, Su Feng set off for Florida to find a new plug-in.

Based on his memory, he knew that his "new plug-in" was still at Auburndale High School at the time and wouldn't leave for North Carolina until senior year.

Coach Ty Willis of Auburndale was notoriously suspicious. When this "new plug-in" was a freshman and sophomore, Willis never trusted him—even when he was averaging 20 points and 10 rebounds in middle school. Willis kept doubting him.

Plus, in his junior year, "the new plug-in" had prioritized training over studies, which caused his grades to fall. That led several universities interested in him to back off.

Later, thanks to Bole Smith, he was introduced to Monte Carlo Christian School in North Carolina.

There, "the new plug-in" soared—becoming one of the top high school players in America.

Hmmm... seeing Odom stumble while Su Feng climbed was satisfying.

But before finding this new plug-in, Su Feng had one critical step ahead:

He needed to find a professional trainer to help prepare him for the NBA.

His first thought: Mike Mancias, the future personal trainer of my emperor.

Tracking down anyone in the '90s felt like searching for a needle in a haystack—especially since Mancias wasn't famous yet.

Fortunately, Su Feng's handsome face opened doors.

When Joe Bryant helped him look for a trainer, Mancias was among the recommended names.

That's the magic of good looks—call it fate!

From Su Feng's perspective, Mancias absolutely deserved to be called "royal advisor" to his future emperor.

Upon meeting Su Feng, Mancias immediately spotted his extraordinary talent:

"Your frame… it's perfect."

"Are you 17? When do you plan to enter the NBA?"

Now that's professionalism.

Mancias didn't rely on guesswork or sweet talk. After observing Su Feng for a few minutes, examining his bone structure, and analyzing last season's stats from the Pennsylvania high school league, Mancias made his call.

tsk tsk

"If I told you I want to skip college altogether—would you believe me?" Su Feng joked.

"I'd believe it. Absolutely.

Your Achilles tendon is long—train properly and you'll be a great jumper.

Your frame is big. Broad shoulders, large hands, long fingers, and strong arms.

If you don't play basketball, that's a waste of talent," Mancias responded confidently.

"But… there's never been a Chinese player in the NBA…"

Before Su Feng could finish, Mancias cut in, even more intrigued:

"I know some people in the NBA hold narrow views on race.

But I believe in scientific training and proper nutrition.

From my research, many Chinese people eat pork.

If you want me as your trainer, I'd ask you to switch to beef and chicken.

Your talent is no less than any American player your age.

And I've never trained a Chinese athlete before—if you succeed, it'll elevate my career, too."

Su Feng was stunned.

No wonder the future emperor was so physically dominant!

Was this trainer too ambitious? Too idealistic?

In Su Feng's previous life, LeBron was like a human tank—and still putting up 25+ points per game into his 30s. (It's already 40 lol)

Su Feng trusted Mancias, and asked:

"If I make it to the NBA, what should my weight be?"

Mancias thought for a moment:

"If you reach around 2 meters tall, I'd say 100 kg.

If you skip college, aim for 90 kg your rookie season, then add 3 kg each year.

Gaining weight too fast would overwhelm your body.

I've examined your frame—you could build a body like Michael Jordan."

Su Feng nodded. That matched his own expectations.

Rapid weight gain does hurt agility, flexibility, even coordination.

In his past life, the emperor couldn't master flashy moves—he had too much mass and bulky arms.

Mancias was a true professional.

Su Feng realized the trainer had mapped out an entirely unique path for him.

Someone who teaches based on the individual—Su Feng knew he'd need Mancias by his side when entering the league.

"This summer, I suggest building 4.5 kg of muscle—over three months.

That's 1.5 kg per month. It won't be easy, so be mentally prepared," said Mancias.

Su Feng asked:

"Will all this physical training affect my shooting?"

"Yes, definitely.

But I've designed a scientific program—your core strength will improve dramatically.

Your shot will have more power than ever," Mancias replied with a smile.

"But how can I keep my accuracy?

You know people praise my shooting and defense—I don't want to lose my edge."

"That's a real challenge.

Skipping college means we're on a tight timeline…

Let me reach out to a friend of mine. But about the cost…"

Mancias looked slightly nervous.

He wanted to help Su Feng out of genuine passion for his craft—but couldn't ignore the reality of finances.

After all, Su Feng was just a high schooler… still a kid.

"No problem," Su Feng replied.

"I'll pay whatever it takes."

"And this summer vacation, I want to go to Orlando and rent a training facility. Do you know anyone?"

Money? Now that money was part of the equation, Su Feng didn't panic.

After plotting out his career path, he knew very well how much cash he'd need.

So he dialed Su Weiguo, thinking to himself: It's just like asking for tens of millions of yuan, no big deal.

Su Feng was convinced that once he made it to the NBA, he'd buy stocks and become wildly rich.

"Oh? You really think you can play in the NBA? Don't try to fool me. Just like you did when you were little, making up stories so I'd buy you toys…" came Su Weiguo's classic "dad-mode" voice on the phone.

Su Feng, who was now carrying the weight of "Su Feng's" identity, couldn't help but laugh. Luckily, Su Weiguo was still willing to believe in him.

"Okay. I'll have Uncle Xu send you some money. If anything comes up, just give him a call," Weiguo said.

From what he could recall, Su Feng didn't have many memories of Uncle Xu.

But the very next day, after seeing that his account had ballooned by a full million dollars, he began to reevaluate his family's financial background.

"If I don't make it to the NBA… I guess I'll just go back and inherit hundreds of millions?"

A million dollars — and in the 90s!

Because "Su Feng's" memories were so fragmented, he knew he'd only be able to fully understand his roots after returning to China someday.

Soon enough, Uncle Xu called:

"Nephew Su Xian, did the money reach you?"

"Yeah…" Su Feng replied, stunned at how this shook his worldview.

"Good. I heard from Weiguo that you're aiming for the NBA? Is that the one Jordan plays in?" Uncle Xu asked.

"Mmhmm…"

"Don't try to trick me. I'm not your dad.

I've done business in the States for years, and I've watched the Bulls play several times.

If you need pocket money, you can have as much as you want.

But if I find out you used it to fool around, I swear: four words — I'll break your legs!"

Su Feng stared at the sky…

Pocket money, as much as you want?

He inhaled sharply and replied after a pause:

"Uncle… are you sure you don't want to send a little more?"

"Come on! I knew I shouldn't have ignored your aunt and sent you to Philly."

"And you even transferred? You silly kid—just wait!

I'm telling you now, I'm okay with a lot of things, but if you mess with those few things, I'll throw you into the Pacific to swim naked!" Uncle Xu said, half joking, half serious.

"Uncle, I really am playing basketball…" Su Feng felt like Benzema—falsely accused, yet both amused and exasperated.

"Cut it out. You just fooled your dad.

I'm giving you money now so you'll know that our families are more than fine.

Even if you wanna be a total slacker, as long as you steer clear of those things, I won't stop you from playing.

Back in junior high, I saw your six-step layup and dribbling. If you make it to the NBA, I swear I'll streak through Wall Street!" Uncle Xu teased.

Cough…

Alright, good thing Su Feng wasn't reckless.

To avoid further financial confusion, he quickly changed the subject.

Still, after hanging up, Su Feng genuinely felt like life had put him in the cockpit.

"Feels like I can do whatever I want…" he mused.

…

So, through Mancias' connections, Bruce Fraser and Alan Stan joined Su Feng's summer special training group.

Fraser, who would later become Steve Nash's personal coach and help him win MVP honors, was someone Su Feng instantly respected. In his opinion, anyone who could help Nash become league MVP had to be elite.

Su Feng also recognized Alan Stan as one of the future renowned trainers in the NBA.

Still, when they heard Su Feng planned to rent out a full training center in Orlando for summer prep, both Fraser and Stan looked at Mancias and jokingly asked:

"Is his dad Bill Gates or something?"

Truthfully, even Mancias was taken aback.

Especially when Su Feng mentioned that once he entered the NBA, he'd "financially back" Mancias himself...

What was going on here?

Was high school that lucrative now?

Vicious capitalism!

Initially, Fraser wasn't too enthusiastic about coaching a high schooler. But Su Feng made an offer too good to refuse.

For Su Feng, money had to be spent carefully — especially since it wasn't really his.

Even so, he clearly understood how valuable this opportunity was.

This wasn't just training — it was a chance to build relationships with future NBA elite coaches.

To become a truly exceptional basketball player, hard work alone isn't enough.

You need a world-class support team to keep growing.

Oh, and one more thing…

You also need a system — like Wilt Chamberlain's.

Or Su Feng's.

…

After assembling his training team, Su Feng headed to Florida. He chose Orlando specifically because it was close to Auburndale.

Mancias quickly arranged a rental for Su Feng—a well-equipped training hall with full facilities.

Since Su Feng had dangled a very generous "future promise," Mancias even discussed a discounted rate "fit for a kid."

"Truly worthy of becoming my emperor's future confidant," Su Feng thought.

"Loyal men like this must be kept close."

"So, when do we start training?" Mancias asked eagerly, excited to begin reshaping Su Feng's physique.

"No rush. First, you have to come with me to Auburndale," Su Feng replied with a grin.

"Huh?"

The three trainers looked at each other, totally confused.

…

That was it…

Su Feng had officially become the nightmare of the basketball boys in Auburndale.

Truth be told, "his new plug-in" was still pretty famous in Auburndale.

And since Auburndale was a small town of just 10,000 people, Su Feng quickly learned which street court his "new plug-in" usually liked to play at.

Unfortunately, Su Feng hadn't yet bumped into him.

So, to speed up the search...

Su Feng eyed the kids playing on the court and, flanked by three grown men, said:

"Alright Let's go one-on-one. If you lose, you're not allowed to play here anymore."

Su Feng recalled that "his new plug-in" was considered the child king of Auburndale, someone highly respected among the local basketball scene.

So he decided to play the bad guy—just for show.

Worst-case scenario, he'd buy some candy later to cheer up the kids whose dreams he crushed.

"Boss! You're finally here! That guy—ugh, he dunked right on my head!"

"Boss, you don't even know… he crushed my basketball dream!"

As Su Feng found himself surrounded by a group of Black teens—

Suddenly, they parted.

Still chewing on a popsicle, Su Feng turned toward his trainers and bodyguards and smiled:

"The one we're looking for is here."

Mancias followed Su Feng's gaze.

There, walking toward them, was a tall, lanky Black boy.

His eyes looked half-asleep.

He held a basketball loosely in his hand. His pace wasn't fast, but his strides were long and smooth.

He was coming.

He had arrived.

Su Feng's new plug-in.

Oh, it was unmistakable—

Tracy McGrady.

The future T-Mac.