NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 25: Advancing to the Semifinals! Durant's Mom Seals It with a Kiss!

The camera panned across the court.

Iverson shook his head in disbelief. Mourning wore a bitter smile. Even the always-jovial Uncle Mutombo sat silent, stunned.

Chen Yan hadn't just won over the fans sitting courtside—he had shut down a whole lineup of Georgetown legends!

China didn't have the rights to air March Madness, but millions of fans were following every second through live text updates.

"Holy shit! Did he just dunk over a 7'2" center?"

"Did he really take off like that?!"

"Someone drop the vid! A gif! Anything!"

Moments later, a gif of Chen Yan posterizing Roy Hibbert dropped on a popular Chinese forum.

The comments section? Instantly on fire.

"Insane! There's no word better than insane!"

"That burst... that elevation... you're telling me this dude is from our league?"

"Straight up reminds me of Vince Carter's death dunk in Sydney!"

"So nasty!"

"If being this cool is illegal, then Chen Yan's guilty as hell!"

That little clip? It earned Chen Yan a fresh wave of die-hard fans.

Back from timeout, Chen Yan and Durant stayed on the floor.

Georgetown was cracking. Chen and KD were locked in—ready to finish the job.

First possession, Hibbert set a high screen for Jeff Green. Green came off, rose, and hit a mid-range pull-up.

Nice shot. Momentary breather.

But on the other end?

Chen Yan cooked them. Twice. In a row.

Same spot.

Same move.

Same devastation.

He crossed up his defender so hard it looked like a training drill.

Dude literally could've announced his play and still scored.

Coach John Thompson III was sweating.

Letting Chen Yan go iso?

Might as well gift-wrap the points.

Next few plays, he tried to double-team Chen. That opened things up for Durant, who started eating at the elbow—splashing back-to-back jumpers from the high post.

So they switched. Tried helping on KD instead.

Guess what?

Chen Yan sliced through the defense, drew contact, and hit free throws like clockwork.

Georgetown had a problem.

They wanted to stop both guys...

But couldn't stop either.

Chen and KD?

Fully unlocked.

Nightmare mode.

As the lead ballooned, Georgetown looked more and more out of sorts.

Jeff Green couldn't break free.

Hibbert? No explosiveness.

They were solid in tight games—but this wasn't close anymore.

Coach Thompson called another timeout, throwing up a "T" sign with both hands.

But at this point?

It was more of a formality.

Texas had stretched the lead to 21 points with 8:04 left on the clock.

Up in the booth, Van Gundy let out a sigh.

"Hibbert's gotta be tougher down low. He's giving up way too many easy ones at the rim. And man, he's getting crushed on the glass."

Mike Breen nodded.

"I think he's just exhausted. That constant banging inside wore him down—and let's be real, that dunk earlier? It shook him. Even if he's trying not to think about it, you can see it in his body language."

And they were right.

No matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, every time Hibbert saw Chen Yan, he flashed back to that moment—that dunk.

Timeout ended. Georgetown ran a set play, Hibbert pulled up for a mid-range jumper—clank.

Rebound, Texas!

DJ Augustin grabbed it, turned, and fired a full-court missile—a one-handed laser to Chen Yan already flying down the sideline.

Chen caught it in stride.

But he didn't go up.

Instead?

He nutmegged a defender with a slick behind-the-back bounce pass, dropping a dime to Durant streaking in.

As he passed, Chen opened his arms wide to the baseline camera, already celebrating.

BOOM!

Durant took off and slammed it home one-handed.

Game. Set. Match.

With that kind of cushion, the Longhorns were playing free.

No tension. Just flow.

Georgetown? Still no one stepped up. No leader barking instructions. No chest-thumping. No fire.

It was like looking at Texas before Chen Yan showed up.

A team with no voice—no direction—can't make a comeback like this.

As the clock ticked down, some Georgetown fans started crying in the stands. They knew it was over.

Meanwhile, the Texas fan section was going wild—singing the Longhorns fight song, waving "FINAL FOUR BOUND!" signs they'd brought in just in case.

The energy difference between the two crowds?

Massive.

On the court, Georgetown University executed a smooth set. Jeff Green and Vernon McLean ran a clean off-ball cut, and McLean broke free toward the rim for an easy reverse layup.

"Get back! Retreat! Faster!"

Georgetown's head coach roared from the sidelines. They weren't ready to give up just yet. The Hoyas were tough. They fought hard—but what Chen Yan was about to do next would force them to face the cold reality.

This possession, Chen Yan kept it simple and savage. Using Damian James as a human shield, he sprinted off the screen and popped out to the 45-degree angle just inside the arc. Catch, rise, fire.

"Swish!"

Nothing but net. Buckets.

Next play—Georgetown misfired on a read, and Chen Yan saw his chance. Transition mode: activated.

At the top of the arc, he hit a nasty behind-the-back dribble and came to a sudden stop. Defender got froze—slid two meters past him.

Pull-up three in rhythm.

"Bang!"

Slight miss. Rimmed out.

But Damian James wasn't done eating. He flew in from the wing, snatched the offensive board out of nowhere.

Chen Yan had been feeding him lobs and dimes all game, and now it was time to return the favor. Damian came down, spun, and zipped the rock right back to him.

Chen caught it and took off like the wind.

One step, two steps—takeoff.

BOOM!!

The dunk exploded through the arena. The rim screamed as he hammered it home.

To the Georgetown players, that wasn't just a dunk—it was the sound of their March dreams being shattered into pieces.

"And that's the game, folks!"

Mike Breen's voice thundered through the broadcast. "Final score—Texas Longhorns 91, Georgetown Hoyas 67! Texas is heading to the Final Four!"

"Kevin Durant finished with a game-high 38 points!" Breen continued, "Chen Yan wasn't far behind—36 points, 6 dimes, 5 steals, and 3 blocks! The man did it all tonight!"

Then Van Gundy chimed in, deadpan as always:

"Honestly? I wouldn't call Chen dropping 36 an 'explosion.' That's just his usual output."

Dropping 30+ in March Madness... and calling it "normal?"

That line from Van Gundy? It went viral. Straight legendary. A quote passed down through basketball forums and barbershops across China.

As the final buzzer echoed, Durant ran straight into the arms of his mother, Wanda.

"Kevin! Kevin! You're the best!"

She grabbed his face and planted a big ol' kiss on his forehead.

A lotta people back home used to say Durant was a "mama's boy." Chen Yan thought the same thing in his past life. But after spending a year as his roommate, he knew better.

Durant wasn't immature. He was just loyal. Wanda wasn't just his mother—she was the rock that built his world.

When Durant was only eight months old, his father Wayne Pratt walked out on the family. Wanda raised Kevin and his brother solo—grinding day and night. She worked two jobs, including the night shift at the post office, and still found time to oversee their training.

She sacrificed everything to keep them away from the streets.

One time, young Durant saw a neighbor get shot. Wanda didn't hesitate—packed up and moved the family immediately for the sake of his mental health.

She moved again and again, just to keep them safe.

The American version of "Meng Mu San Qian."

A mother who reshaped her child's future—by moving three times, or even thirty if needed.

After hugging Durant, Wanda walked up to Chen Yan with a warm smile and pulled him in for a hug.

Chen returned it politely.

They were boys on and off the court—roommates, battle-tested partners. Wanda knew how close the two were.

She leaned in, about to kiss his forehead like she did with Durant.

But Chen Yan instinctively dodged—hard. Reflexes kicked in. Ultra speed. He dipped his head so quick it looked like a crossover move.

He wasn't trying to be disrespectful. He knew that was Aunt Wanda's way of showing love.

But man… he just couldn't do it.

The camera caught the whole thing.

Van Gundy couldn't help but crack up.

"Looks like Chen Yan's got quick feet off the court, too! Man dodged that kiss like it was a full-court press!"

"Fatal kiss! Hahaha!"

The TV audience burst into laughter. Social media in China and the U.S. lit up with replays and memes.

Van Gundy's commentary once again had elite-level entertainment value.

Fans were saying it left and right: "Man was born to be a commentator. Coaching was holding him back!"

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