The next morning, Zhao Dong pulled up to Zhao Dong Sports Company in Chaoyang District.
He had copped the Huayang Building, a brand-new high-rise just finished last year. Dropped 320 million RMB on it—15 floors, each 3,200 square meters—and put it under his name. The ground floor was already leased out, half the upper floors too, but he wasn't renting the rest. He had plans.
His sneaker company, Zhao Dong Sports Company, and his new China Venture Capital were both setting up shop in the building. Even his Dongcheng Club was relocating here.
When he hit the top floor, it was all his personal space. No other offices, just his own domain. He stepped into a massive 150-square-meter conference room and, with a flick of his wrist, pulled out stacks upon stacks of sneaker tech blueprints from his system space—8,200 files in total. The whole damn room was flooded with documents.
"Where the hell did all this come from?!"
His assistant, looking shook, was called up. "I bought out a research institute," Zhao Dong said casually. "All this? World-class sneaker tech, top-tier patents. Get the R&D team on it ASAP—patents first, then valuation."
"Uh… yeah, okay," the assistant muttered, still trying to process it.
But within a day, he didn't need convincing anymore. The R&D department was losing their minds.
Zhao Dong had poached elite sneaker designers from Europe and the U.S., real pros. And when they went through the files? They were shook. "This is some next-level sh*t," one of them whispered. "Beyond anything Nike or Adidas got right now."
Zhao Dong wasn't fazed. He had his security squad watching the goods—30 ex-military and ex-police, locked in and ready. No leaks, no problems.
---
Meanwhile, he was setting up China Venture Capital and had just hired a new GM, Wang Xin, through a headhunter.
Dude was 40, had a master's from Fudan University's School of Economics & Management. Used to be a section chief in Shanghai's investment bureau before moving into real estate. Just quit his deputy GM gig in Hainan to run Zhao Dong's firm.
China Venture Capital was stacked from day one—1 billion RMB in starting capital. Zhao Dong put up 800M, Lindsay chipped in 200M.
First order of business? NetEase.
"Boss Wang, you know about NetEase?"
"Yeah, but investing in internet companies now is mad risky."
Zhao Dong laughed. "That's the whole point of VC, bro. High risk, high reward. I don't invest in companies—I invest in people. And the guy running NetEase? I like his hustle."
"…Alright. NetEase needs funding bad. I'll hit 'em up."
"One rule," Zhao Dong warned. "We invest—we don't run sh*t. No interference."
"Got it."
"Take as much of the company as you can."
Wang Xin looked nervous as hell. This was a huge risk. But Zhao Dong wasn't giving him an option.
A few days later, Wang Xin and his assistant flew to Guangzhou.
They met NetEase's founder, and it took exactly ten minutes to seal the deal.
Dude only asked for 10 million RMB. Wang Xin threw 30 million at him.
NetEase's founder? Ecstatic. His company was still on shaky legs, so landing a fat investor outta nowhere? That was a damn blessing.
Later that night, Wang Xin called from Guangzhou. "Locked in 45% of NetEase's voting shares for 30 million. Plus, we get first dibs on the next funding round."
"Good sh*t," Zhao Dong said, grinning.
---
NetEase was on track. But Zhao Dong knew what was coming.
By June 30, 2000, NetEase was gonna go public in the U.S.—starting at $15 a share.
Then? Boom. The dot-com bubble bursts.
Nasdaq flips from a three-year bull market to a 30-month bear crash. NetEase stock plummets to $0.48. Company value drops to just $20M.
Then, in 2001?
Accounting fraud scandal. Trading halted. No one wants to touch 'em.
Foreign investors got cold feet. But Zhao Dong? He wasn't sweating.
He'd invested early. He had control. And when the dust settled? He was gonna eat.
---
By late September, Zhao Dong and Lindsay finished their trip across China and landed back in Beijing.
Along the way, he dropped more stacks—this time, on historical courtyard mansions. Old-school princely estates, the kind with four or five entrances. Expensive? Nah. For Zhao Dong, this was pocket change.
At the end of the month, Lindsay's parents flew in from Switzerland.
September 28, their engagement ceremony went down in a Catholic church in Beijing—outta respect for Lindsay's beliefs.
Guest list?
Zhao Dong's close friends & family.
Some national team teammates.
A few company execs.
Knicks front office—Ernie Grunfeld & owner James Dolan.
NBA homies—Oakley, Larry Johnson, Allan Houston.
On Lindsay's side? Just her parents.
Engagement locked in. Wedding? Next up.
But there was a problem—
Lindsay was only 19. Too young for a marriage license in China. So they had to do it overseas.
After talking it over, both families picked a date—All-Star Weekend.
Perfect timing. No games. No need to take leave.
---
As October rolled in, Zhao Dong and Lindsay got ready to head back to the U.S.
"Mom, don't be cheap. You need anything? Just buy it. I got money."
His mom wiped away tears. "Dongdong, just take care of your girl. Don't let her down."
"C'mon, Mom. You know me."
Before leaving, Zhao Dong pulled his brother aside. "Bro, house is yours. Take care of Grandpa and Grandma."
"I got you."
His younger brother pouted. "But where's my sister-in-law?! Been months and I still haven't seen her!"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Why you rushing? I'm still young."
October 3rd, 8 PM, U.S. time—Zhao Dong and Lindsay touched down in New York.
"Yo, Wells, find me a penthouse. Gotta have a pool and a helipad."
Wells, who had come to pick them up, damn near choked when he heard that.
"Zhao, you know a spot like that's worth tens of millions, right? More expensive than the damn Knicks! How much you really make in the forex market?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Haha, just find it. I promised Evelyn a penthouse, can't go back on my word." Zhao Dong grinned.
Wells side-eyed Lindsay, who smiled and added, "Mr. Wells, can you help me with something too?"
"Of course, Miss Lindsay. What's up?"
"I wanna buy an NBA team and gift it to Zhao. Maybe the Knicks? Or the Lakers. Something big, none of those small-market teams." She smirked.
Wells nearly coughed up his lungs. "Ahem… what?"
Zhao Dong just laughed, gripping Lindsay's hand.
Over the past few months, his investments in the Asian financial markets had been hitting insane returns. He'd flipped $800 million into a cool $2.7 billion. Even Lindsay had pulled nearly a billion in profits from the same wave. Buying an NBA franchise? Light work. Teams weren't worth much compared to the fortune they were racking up.
And the storm in Asia wasn't even over. Japan and South Korea were just starting to feel the heat.
Wells ran a hand through his hair. "Man, where do you even buy a major sports team?"
"The Bulls for sale?" Lindsay asked casually. "Mr. Wells, go ask around. If we can make it happen, I'll throw in a fat commission. Name a good price—the team is what matters."
"The Bulls?" Wells nearly laughed. If their owner ever lost his mind and sold to Lindsay, Jordan's reaction would be priceless.
"Miss Lindsay, that might be a tough one. There aren't many big teams, and we missed our shot at the Knicks," Wells admitted.
"We'll try anyway. First target: Knicks." She flashed a confident smile.
Wells sighed but nodded. "I'll see what I can do. What about other leagues?"
"The NFL?" Lindsay's eyes lit up. She knew Zhao Dong loved football too.
She turned to him. "What do you think?"
Zhao Dong shrugged. "If you're happy, I'm happy."
They weren't really buying gifts for each other—they were just having fun spending stupid money.
"Alright then," Lindsay nodded. "Priority is the NBA, but if that doesn't work, find us an NFL team. Big market, big name, no small-town stuff."
Wells chuckled. "Got it."
---
Back in New York, Zhao Dong headed straight to the Knicks' facility to check in.
Not that he needed to. He was the damn Finals MVP, but still, he had to pretend to care about the team's new lineup.
When he stepped into Ernie Grunfeld's office, Don Nelson was already there, and the three got to talking.
"Where's Jeff?" Zhao Dong asked casually.
"Coaching the team in the preseason," Nelson said. "Marcus Camby and the rookie, Danny Fortson, are getting their reps."
"How's our lineup lookin'?" Zhao Dong asked.
"See for yourself."
Grunfeld slid him the roster. Zhao Dong skimmed it, noting that not much had changed.
Oakley, Larry Johnson, Allan Houston, John Starks, Charlie Ward, Chris Childs, Buck Williams, Herb Williams—familiar faces. With him, that made nine returning players.
The new guys? Marcus Camby, Danny Fortson, Pete Myers, Brooks Thompson, Ben Davis, and Anthony Bowie—six additions.
"All these guys got contracts?" he asked.
"Nah," Grunfeld admitted. "Only Camby and Fortson are locked in. The rest? Not yet."
"How strong are they?"
Grunfeld scratched his head. "We tried moving Buck Williams, Herb Williams, Charles, and Charlie Ward for a solid point guard and a decent small forward. But no luck."
Nelson smirked. "Those four are just vets on their way out. Cheap roster fillers."
Grunfeld looked even more uncomfortable.
Zhao Dong raised a brow. "Boss ain't willing to spend?"
He knew Dolan wasn't stingy. Hell, after Jordan retired, Dolan burned through $150 million trying to build a competitive team—and failed miserably. No way he'd be cheap with a championship squad.
Grunfeld shook his head. "Dolan said to reinforce the team at any cost. But teams in the East don't wanna help us out. We had our eyes on Larry Johnson and Mark Jackson out West, but deals fell through."
"We still got time," he added. "I haven't signed those last four guys yet. We're keeping trade options open."
Then, he leaned in. "Zhao, any suggestions? I know you don't like meddling in team affairs, but you're the boss here. Got any input?"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Oh, you really want me to talk?"
Grunfeld chuckled. If this was Jordan, he'd shut him down immediately. But Zhao Dong? He wasn't the type to micromanage. If he wanted control, he'd have taken it already.
Zhao Dong nodded. "Alright. Listen, Charles has an old college buddy named Ben Wallace. Small center, went undrafted in '96 like me. He was with the Bullets last season but barely got minutes. I like his game. I think he'd fit us well. He won't cost much, and if we develop him for a couple seasons, he could be a real problem for opposing teams."
"Ben Wallace?"
Grunfeld and Nelson exchanged glances before Grunfeld called someone to pull up Wallace's stats.
They weren't about to dismiss an undrafted player outright—especially when the greatest undrafted player in NBA history was sitting right in front of them.
Zhao Dong added, "I got another guy, Ernie. Maybe you can take a look and give him a tryout. He's the main shooting guard for the Chinese national team, a forward-guard swingman, and last season's CBA MVP. His name is Hu Weidong, and he put Pippen on a poster in the Atlanta Olympics."
"I promise you, these two are better than those four vets you're looking at who are about to retire. We need guys who can hoop right now, and he's got that dawg in him," Zhao Dong finished confidently.
Since Zhao Dong was pushing for it, Ernie Grunfeld had no choice but to at least check them out and give them a tryout.
Plus, the owner wasn't sweating the money—his only concern was getting legit talent. So why not take a shot?
After getting the green light, Zhao Dong hit up Hu Weidong.
"Yo, Zhao Dong, we good?" Hu Weidong asked, excited.
Zhao Dong thought for a moment before replying, "Brother Hu, our squad got a real shot. We're light on perimeter guys, and you should fit right in as a swingman."
He knew Hu Weidong's game. Not just now—even two decades later, China wouldn't have another dude as complete at the two or three spot as him.
Back in the day, people used to say Hu Weidong was the only local player who could move like the Americans. His athleticism was on another level compared to other Chinese players.
"Bet, Zhao Dong. Appreciate you. Playing in the NBA? That's been the dream," Hu Weidong said, his mind made up.
On the 5th, Mrs. Dolores arrived. She and Lindsay started putting together the Storm Financial Investment Fund. There was a lot to get done, and they were busy.
Meanwhile, Zhao Dong got back in the gym, locking in for the new season.
For 1997-98, the Knicks weren't as stacked as last year. Ewing was getting up there in age, and let's be real—he was no Marcus Camby anymore. He knew that, too.
Jordan's athleticism might take a slight hit, but with his work ethic and training, it wouldn't be much. Plus, with all his experience, he was still a problem.
So now the Bulls had Jordan, Ewing, Kidd, and an aging Rodman. They weren't just better than the Knicks—they were better than the Bulls team that three-peated. This squad was an all-time great team.
On top of that, with Kidd and Ewing in the mix, Chicago had solved two of their biggest problems—playmaking and interior scoring. Their weaknesses from last season? Gone. They were a juggernaut.
Zhao Dong even thought to himself—this might be the strongest team ever assembled.
But no team is perfect. The Bulls had to trade away Toni Kukoc and two key role players, which hurt their bench depth. They'd have to lean heavy on their starters.
So Zhao Dong knew: Chicago was still the team to beat.
As for other squads, the Heat weren't really a threat yet—T-Mac was still too young.
The Knicks, though? Losing Ewing meant they were weaker than both Chicago and Miami when it came to inside scoring.
To put it bluntly, New York had no real low-post threat anymore. Larry Johnson's post game was fading, and nobody else had that back-to-the-basket ability.
Offensively, they'd have to rely on perimeter play and ball movement.
Winning back-to-back? It was looking rough.
But that only fueled Zhao Dong.
He wasn't the type to get hyped unless there was a real challenge in front of him.
And deep down, he had a feeling David Stern might've helped the Bulls pull off this deal. At the very least, he didn't block it. The commissioner probably wasn't happy with him and was still backing the aging Jordan.
Didn't matter, though. Zhao Dong wasn't built for making friends. His future? He thrived in enemy territory.
"Nah, nah, Mr. Wells, I got zero plans to sell this team. No matter how much cash you throw at me."
James Dolan thought Ringo Wells had lost his mind. Why would he sell the Knicks right after buying them and winning a championship?
"That's a shame. Guess I'll have to ask around. But hey, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."
Wells was just doing his due diligence. Even though he knew Dolan wasn't gonna sell, he still had to ask.
"Mr. Wells, who's trying to buy the team?" Dolan asked, curious.
"You know, Mr. Dolan, I work for Miss Lindsay. She wants to get Zhao Dong a team—a big one."
"What?"
Dolan was stunned, his jaw practically hitting the floor.
"Rich people play by different rules, huh?" he muttered, still in disbelief.
"Yeah," Wells chuckled.
"You think Zhao Dong will take it?" Dolan asked, intrigued.
"He's got something just as big planned for Miss Lindsay." Wells shrugged with a smile.
"Is Zhao Dong that loaded? He got major backing in China?" Dolan asked, shocked.
"How should I put this..." Wells smirked. "Probably."
He knew Zhao Dong had been flipping foreign exchange for profit, but even he didn't know just how deep those pockets ran. Luckily, Dolan was already filling in the blanks himself, so Wells didn't have to explain.
"Alright, Mr. Dolan, I got teams to check out. Miss Lindsay wants a top-tier squad. Lakers or Bulls. Only those two."
He got up to leave.
"Man, if you can get Lindsay to buy the Bulls and break up their roster, we might actually have a shot at repeating," Dolan joked.
He wasn't blind—he knew the Knicks were gonna have a tough time defending their title this season. The Bulls' lineup was just too strong.
At this point, he wasn't totally sold on Grunfeld, either. The Knicks' offseason moves hadn't been great. If he hadn't stumbled into Zhao Dong, Dolan would've fired him already.
Wells laughed. "If that happens, Jordan might actually lose his mind."
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