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

The summer sun in Auckland is incredibly strong, and the asphalt roads are so hot they're practically oozing oil.

Lin Hao drove the rented seven-seater van steadily, with the air conditioning on full blast, the cold air billowing out.

In the back seat, Dell Curry looked at the scenery rushing past the window, still feeling a little uneasy. He had been to many arenas in his life, but never before had he been personally picked up by the team leader before even officially starting work, and then given a tour of the "office."

"Dale, don't be nervous." Lin Hao noticed his slight unease in the rearview mirror and chuckled in his thick Northeastern accent, "Our Warriors' training facility is basically just a larger activity room, there aren't that many rules. You're going there to be a mentor to everyone, not to sit in an office."

"Lin, thank you for taking such good care of us," Dale Curry said gratefully. "Sonia just said that she had never met such a warm and welcoming boss."

"What boss? We're all family!" Lin Hao waved his hand, getting really into it. "Look, this is canned yellow peaches I brought from my hometown. They're all-natural and additive-free. When we get to the restaurant, we can eat them and talk about tactics."

In the passenger seat, Stephen Curry remained silent, simply clutching the can of yellow peaches Lin Hao had given him, his eyes darting around. He had noticed this Chinese man, taller than his father, at the airport; his arm muscles were as hard as rocks, clearly the kind of tough guy who could dunk on a basketball rim.

The car drove into the city, passed through several blocks, and stopped in the underground parking garage of the Warriors' training facility.

"We're here!" Lin Hao turned off the engine, turned around and smiled at the two children, "Nephew, get out! Uncle will take you to see the real thing!"

The elevator went straight to the third floor, and the heavy glass doors slid open automatically.

A familiar smell, a mixture of wood floor paint and sweat, wafted over. The training hall was empty, with only a few staff members wiping the floor.

"Wow..." Seth was the first to rush in, sliding on the wooden floor and shouting excitedly.

Stephen Curry Jr. stood motionless at the door. His gaze passed over his father and was fixed on the lone basketball hoop at the other end of the court.

It was a standard NBA basketball hoop, orange-red, gleaming enticingly under the lights.

"Stephen, go ahead," Dale Curry nudged his son.

Stephen swallowed hard and slowly walked onto the court. He didn't touch the ball, but stood outside the three-point line, looking up at the impossibly high basket.

Lin Hao followed behind, not disturbing him, but simply watching quietly.

"Uncle Lin," young Stephen suddenly turned his head, his eyes revealing a seriousness beyond his years, "Is this basketball hoop really 3.05 meters?"

"How could it be fake?" Lin Hao walked over and patted the basketball hoop. "A standard 3.05 meters. What's up, nephew, does it look tall?"

"A little." Little Stephen nodded, then looked at the row of basketballs on the sidelines. "Can I shoot one?"

"Shoot! Shoot whatever you want!" Lin Hao laughed heartily, casually tossing a basketball over. "Don't be shy, this is just like your backyard!"

Stephen Jr. caught the ball, and the moment his fingers touched the genuine leather basketball, his eyes changed.

The timid little boy from before had disappeared, replaced by a focused young player. He dribbled the ball twice, feeling the friction of the leather, and then slowly ran towards the three-point line.

Dell Curry and Sonia also stopped and stood on the sidelines watching.

Lin Hao crossed his arms and observed with great interest. He knew that Dale's son could shoot hoops, but he didn't expect the boy's movements to be so rhythmic.