Su Feng felt unjust. The mocking phrase "dribble day negative" had been ingrained in his mind, a cruel reminder of his supposed inadequacy. It seemed like everywhere he went, someone was there to point out his flaws—especially his dribbling, something he had been working on diligently. Iverson's teasing words only deepened the feeling. "Little Bunny"—that was what his father, Comrade Su Weiguo, called him. The nickname, lighthearted and almost affectionate, now stung in a way it never had before. Being placed under the label of "dribble day negative" felt like an injustice, especially when he had worked so hard to improve.
But deep down, Su Feng understood that this ridicule wasn't the end. Far from it. Iverson, despite his teasing, had become an unlikely mentor. Under Iverson's guidance, he began to see his weaknesses more clearly. It wasn't just about dribbling or ball control; it was about the subtle art of agility, reaction time, and adaptability. Iverson had a way of pushing him past his limits, and each playful jab or critique seemed to fuel Su Feng's desire to get better.
As the day wore on, Su Feng adopted a new mindset. No longer would he be the one to cower under the weight of criticism. Instead, he embraced it, knowing that each taunt and each challenge would serve as fuel for his growth. In that backyard with Iverson, as they exchanged playful banter and honed their skills, Su Feng couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Yes, the road ahead was difficult, but he was finally beginning to walk it with confidence.
"Philadelphia Irving," he thought to himself with a grin, embracing the nickname that Iverson had unwittingly bestowed upon him. It was as if he had taken on a new identity, one that would carry him through the struggles ahead.
When Iverson had suggested they play a quick match, Su Feng agreed with a sense of purpose. He knew this wasn't just a friendly competition—it was an opportunity. Every shot, every dribble, every play was another step toward mastering his craft.
The game itself was a whirlwind of fast moves and sharp shots. Su Feng found himself pushed to his limits, but in the best way possible. When Iverson drained a three-pointer after a dazzling display of dribbling, Su Feng felt a rush of admiration. The way Iverson played wasn't just about speed and skill—it was about freedom, something Su Feng had never truly embraced in his own game.
"You didn't expect me to pull a three after all that dribbling, huh?" Iverson laughed as he wiped his brow, looking at Su Feng with a grin.
Su Feng nodded, unable to hide his respect. He had never seen anyone pull off moves like Iverson's. But at the same time, something clicked within him. This was the freedom he had been seeking—a freedom to play beyond the conventional boundaries. It was a revelation, and in that moment, Su Feng knew that this was the path he wanted to take.
Despite the intense competition, the game was full of moments of mutual respect. Iverson had a way of making Su Feng feel like they were on the same team, even if they were technically opponents. And as the game came to a close, with both of them exhausted but exhilarated, Su Feng couldn't help but reflect on how far he had come.
"Tomorrow, we do this again," Su Feng had said, his voice sincere.
Iverson nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You got it."
The two men parted ways, but Su Feng's mind was already racing ahead. He had spent hours refining his game with one of the best, and he knew this was only the beginning. As he walked away, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He had been unjustly criticized, yes—but that was about to change. With each passing day, he would prove that he was more than just a little bunny. He was on his way to becoming something greater, something unstoppable.
The journey had only just begun.