You are the Pearl, Mo Mengchen

"What's wrong with you?"

"No goals can be cast."

The Indian city reporter who was thinking about doing things failed to elicit extra words from Mo Mengchen's mouth.

Hill, who is good at dealing with reporters, can't make a fart with three slaps. He has nothing to say. The significance of appearing in the press conference is to help the team save 50,000 US dollars.

After the press conference, Mo Mengchen, Houston, Hill, and Froth entered the corridor together.

On the way, nobody said anything.

The locker room was very quiet, and Frauss did not sum up the game as usual, because there was nothing to summarize tonight, and Mo Mengchen had already summed up in front of the reporter.

Reason for losing?

No goals.

How to win it back?

Throw the ball in.

These answers can be prefixed with a Grant Hill. If he puts the ball in, or if he doesn’t score, the Pistons win or lose.

Tonight Hill missed seven open 3-pointers from the perimeter.

The Pacers let him go seven times, and he didn't throw in one time, which greatly satisfied his opponent. It was puzzling Momo Chen's decision.

With Hill feeling like this, he still kept passing the ball to Hill.

"Mo, you pushed Grant too much."

After returning to the hotel, Mo Mengchen was preparing for supper, and Dumas came to discuss the game tonight in the name of rubbing rice.

Grilled wings + tofu skin, this is his supper tonight, unhealthy, but delicious.

Mo Mengchen is 25 years old this year. According to his calculations, he may still be able to eat the sea and drink this unscrupulously for about five years, and then he will control it later.

Young body organs have functions that middle-aged people do not have. They are full of energy and can naturally absorb these foods that are not healthy for athletes.

Mo Mengchen is not like those who are eager to gain weight-this is not true, he is eager to gain weight, but this matter is not urgent, because of the history of injuries, he can not carry out heavy weight training, Normally, I can only practice the core, and then do some light strength training that does not burden the body a lot. His strength attribute growth depends entirely on the system, and it has now increased to the top level.

Without heavy weight training, a reasonable diet would be meaningless, because it would not help him gain weight.

If it is not to gain weight, a reasonable diet will only have to speed up the body to restore this function, but the recovery ability of young people is very strong.

Mo Mengchen did not want to lose his mouth even when he was so tired every day, so he regarded the so-called dietary regulations as nothing.

"Too much force?"

Have it?

Mo Mengchen still felt that he did not do enough, he wanted to force a little more, but it was a pity that Frasses did not give him a chance.

The team was 23 points behind, and Fraises replaced Hill, and he didn't replace him in the rest of the time. Mo Mengchen could only take other people to death.

The result of the game can't be changed. The 23-point difference is an era that is difficult to smooth out in this era when the average score of each team is less than 100 points.

Dumas said: "He is very strong, but also very fragile, especially sensitive to certain things."

Yes, especially the booing of the audience, especially his own three-pointers, especially when he refuses to face his three-pointers as bad as shit-he is really sensitive.

"For example?" Mo Mengchen stared at the oven in front of him, opened the lid and brushed with honey.

Few people can do this in hotel rooms, but Mo Mengchen has these conditions.

This whole set of equipment always followed him at any time, and these things had been put in before he checked in.

Dumas smelled a scent that made him want to drool, and said casually: "You shouldn't continue to pass him when he crashes. He doesn't need a pass, but your rubbish."

Interesting, I became his parent?

Mo Mengchen smiled and asked, "JD, will you be beaten when you did something wrong as a kid?"

"Yes." Dumas said.

Mo Mengchen continued to ask: "Will you remember this fight when you made a mistake?"

"Maybe..." Dumas understood what Mo Mengchen meant.

"You may remember those fights, but you will still make mistakes because you didn't realize the nature of the problem." Mo Mengchen put the honey chicken wings on the plate, picked up the fork and inserted it, and smelled it. Can't bear to speak.

Mo Mengchen continued: "I can pull him at a critical moment, but this does not solve the problem. Next time he encounters the same situation, he will still be like this bird. I can't help him every time."

This is also Dumas's idea, but their mother is not ready to grow up.

"How sure are you that he wants to understand?" Dumas asked.

Mo Mengchen opened another pot, and the tofu skin was gone.

Mo Duanchen answered Dumars' question in one sentence: "I believe in him."

Just as he believed me.

Dumas couldn't bear it, picked up a knife and fork and **** a chicken wing, and found that the bones inside had been shaved. "You guys should go to the restaurant!"

He said nothing.

Fortunately, Mo Mengchen had expected that someone would come to eat, drink, and make more, otherwise Dumas would not be enough.

Now Dumas has no chance to play, the management of body shape is more and more failed, and now the weight has already exceeded 100KG.

Judging by his fat figure, the current weight is 103kg.

Later, Dumas thought that the knife and fork were not easy to use, and directly imitated the Indians to grab it. It seemed that Mo Mengchen wanted to cut off his palm with a knife for cutting steak.

"You must have been beaten because of this when you were a kid." Mo Mengchen said definitely.

Dumas ate a mouthful of oil, and a plate of chicken wings was quickly swept away by him. He sucked his fingers with unwillingness, completely ignoring Mo Mengchen's speculation.

In this style of painting, Mo Mengchen is almost certain that this product did not take Hill's affairs at ease, that is, his mother came here to eat today's fifth meal.

"Mo, are there any more?" Dumas stared at the tofu skin.

"It's gone!" Mo Mengchen stuck in the position to prevent him from getting close to the tofu skin. If the old man touched the tofu skin, the whole plate would be his.

Although Mo Mengchen doesn't like to eat solitary food, he doesn't like watching others eat solitary food.

"Forget it, it looks bad..."

"What are you talking about?"

How can I know if the tofu skin is not good?

Obviously, this is an extremely inferior radical method, but when it comes to eating, Mo Mengchen is irrational.

He cut half of it to Dumas.

"I invite you to eat it, and give me a fair evaluation." Mo Mengchen akimbo.

The Dumas comers refused, sweeping away, and finished eating in a minute.

"It's too little to eat or not. You can cut me another piece." Dumas's mouth was covered with oil stains, and he asked brazenly.

Mo Mengchen's face with black lines: "No, I'm going to drop off!"

Dumas laughed and walked out of Mo Mengchen's room happily without any other expression.

Before leaving, Dumas asked: "If Grant still does not know how to face these pressures, what do you do?"

"I don't know." Mo Mengchen said, "but I won't stop."

Having said that, before Dumas said a good night, he closed the door.

Dumas stood there.

"Won't you stop?"

Mo Mengchen and Hill reminded Dumas of him and the smiling assassin.

A particularly similar pair.

He used to be restrained like Hill. He couldn’t find a position in this wild city. It was the smiling assassin who pushed him a little bit to take the initiative to do what he was good at. He faced all the pressure and finally achieved the present. His.

The Assassins joined the team five years earlier than him, and he was perfect as the leader of the team.

Now, the roles seem to be reversed.

Hill, who entered the team early, was the kinder one. Mo Mengchen had nothing to do with the word kindness from beginning to end. He lashed out and drove everyone in the team forward.

Mo Mengchen's intentions are only understood by Dumas, who came here.

So when will Hill realize it?

Dumas walked slowly back to the room. Tonight was a very bad night for the Pistons. They played two wonderful games at home and suffered a 23-point defeat on the road.

Will this series become you slaughter me, will I slaughter your slaughterhouse?

If this is the case, the Pistons are more advantageous because they have a home advantage, as long as they guarantee to win the game at home, even if they drag to the seventh game, they will win.

But the playoffs are not more than home, whose history is more a team that has home advantage but was sent home for fishing.

The next day, Mo Mengchen got up early as usual.

He brushed his teeth first, washed his face, dressed himself, bought a breakfast, and then met Hill, who had just got up, on the way back to the hotel.

"Early," Hill said.

No dark circles at all, this guy slept soundly last night?

Mo Mengchen said lightly: "I'm relieved to see you so spirited."

Hill said: "Hope is my illusion, how do I feel you are disappointed in this matter?"

It’s not an illusion. That’s how I think. How can you sleep peacefully, you shameless bastard?

Mo Mengchen doesn't want to scold Hill for autism early in the morning, so these words just hold in his heart.

"No, if you sleep well, you have forgotten the game last night, which is good. I hope you can throw the **** three-pointer the day after tomorrow~www.readwn.com~ Slobber.

But he mentioned the three-pointer!

"Speaking of three-pointers, why did you keep passing the ball to me yesterday? I can't figure it out. I couldn't figure it out on the bed last night. Don't you know that I didn't retreat? I can only shoot in such a big space." Erdao.

Did not forget to reflect on the game before going to bed, indicating that this guy is not a fool.

"No retreat? Can you only shoot? Why?" Mo Mengchen asked.

Hill froze for a few seconds. "Why? I have such a big space..."

"This is the reason why you keep shooting? Have you voted?" Mo Mengchen asked, "Can you vote?"

Hill wanted to say that he could score, but he missed a goal last night.

He didn't answer, and Mo Mengchen didn't force him, swiped the room with the room card, and then closed the door.