After speaking with Old Nelson, Zhao Dong and Wells took Dazhi to check out some housing. On the way, they relayed everything Old Nelson had said, especially about teaming up with Big Ben, and reminded Dazhi to mentally prepare for what was coming.
"Of course, I'll be starting from the bench," Dazhi nodded.
"As long as I get a chance to play, I'm happy," he added with a smile.
Zhao Dong glanced over. "Dazhi, I'm telling you this again—you gotta step up your defense. I don't care how good you are on offense. If you don't show up on defense, you won't survive in the NBA. And that's something I can't cover for you."
He continued, his tone a bit more serious. "When you're on the floor with Big Ben, you gotta make up for the height difference he gives up when guarding opposing bigs. He's a beast, but even he can't cover everyone. That's where you come in with weak-side help."
"You've got solid shot-blocking instincts, and your vertical's what—85 centimeters? Use that. Be active on defense. That's where you make your mark."
—
The next day, the Knicks hosted the Timberwolves at Madison Square Garden.
That morning, local New York sports media picked up on yesterday's trade.
New York Sports ran the headline: "Knicks' Draft Target Was Originally Wang—Likely Zhao Dong's Suggestion." The article added, "But Ben Wallace and Hu Weidong—both brought in under Zhao Dong's influence—have shown strong performances. So we're withholding judgment on this trade for now."
Most outlets took a similar stance: report the facts, but avoid stirring controversy. But a few smaller outlets started raising eyebrows—three Chinese players on one team? Could that create issues in the locker room?
—
Later that afternoon, Zhao Dong drove Dazhi to the Knicks' training facility. A crowd of fans had gathered outside, along with a throng of media reporters. As he pulled up, several reporters swarmed the car, forcing Zhao Dong to roll down his window for an impromptu interview.
"Zhao Dong, the Knicks now have three Chinese players. Do you think that's going to affect locker room chemistry?" one reporter asked.
"What kind of effect are you talking about exactly?" Zhao Dong replied calmly.
"Well… like forming a clique, a small group?" the reporter mumbled awkwardly.
Zhao Dong raised his brows. "Then why not just trade a Chinese player?"
The reporter paused and gave a nervous glance toward Dazhi in the backseat. "Uh… who would you suggest we trade?"
"How about me?" Zhao Dong said with a smirk.
"Um…"
The reporter shut up immediately, completely stumped.
Another journalist jumped in, "Zhao Dong, people are calling you the 'King of Trading.' Was this deal your idea?"
Zhao Dong nodded slightly. "Back during the draft, I did recommend Wang to Coach Nelson. That's part of the responsibility the team gave me.
You know I also recommended Ben Wallace and Hu Weidong before. Then during the draft, I pushed for Danny Fortson. They all did their job—Big Ben's the anchor on defense, Hu's grinding on the wing, and Fortson's a key guy in the rotation.
This trade's no different. I made the suggestion, but the final decision came from management."
"But you're the core of this team," the reporter pushed. "Management must be heavily influenced by your opinion. Isn't that a form of interference?"
Zhao Dong's smile faded. His voice turned cold.
"I've never asked them to take my suggestions as gospel. I provide my input because that's the responsibility the team gave me.
What management decides to do—that's not on me. It's not my job, and I'm not crossing that line.
If you really think Knicks management is too weak to handle me, then by all means, tell the owner to bring in someone tougher. Or suggest stripping me of my ability to give suggestions. I'm fine either way."
The reporter froze, speechless.
"So don't throw responsibility on me that I never asked for, alright?" Zhao Dong stared him down.
"Y-yeah… got it," the reporter stammered, visibly sweating.
But Zhao Dong wasn't done.
"Let me be clear—what you're doing is trying to sabotage this team.
The Bulls broke down because of the rift between Jordan, Phil Jackson, and their front office. You trying to pull the same move on us? You trying to pit me against Knicks management?"
"No! I didn't mean that!" the reporter shouted, panicking under the pressure.
Zhao Dong leaned back slightly, his tone steady but forceful.
"I've got a great relationship with Ernie Grunfeld. He respects my suggestions, and I respect his decisions.
This season's critical—we're chasing back-to-back titles. We need you local media to support this run, not tear it apart."
"Zhao Dong, we got your back! Don't listen to these clowns!" a few Knicks fans nearby shouted.
As the crowd began booing the reporter, he wiped sweat off his forehead and slipped into his car, fleeing the scene.
Once inside the facility, Zhao Dong parked and turned to Dazhi.
"You see this?" he said seriously. "In New York, the pressure's different.
Chicago's a big city, no doubt, but it's still not on the level of New York. This is the center of the world—media, fans, everything.
They're gonna watch your every move. They'll zoom in on your flaws with a microscope. One bad game? They'll tear you apart in the headlines the next morning."
He paused before adding, "So starting now, you better raise your standards. No slacking off. You gotta give everything you've got every second you're on that court. No wasted plays."
"I understand, Brother Dong," Dazhi nodded quickly.
Just then, someone called out.
"Zhao Dong! Brother Hu! Dazhi!"
They turned and saw Yang Yi, a familiar face—reporter from CCTV.
Yang Yi had already secured a press pass for the Knicks. It wasn't as convenient as being a team reporter, but it was enough to let him drop in often for interviews.
With a smile, he jogged over and said, "Congratulations, Dazhi! You finally made it to the Knicks."
"Thanks," Dazhi replied, smiling politely.
"Let's move," Zhao Dong waved them on. "We're almost late for practice."
When they arrived at the training facility, the team was already gathered. Zhao Dong led Dazhi in and shouted, "Yo! Come here, y'all! Lemme introduce the new guy—this is the rookie, Dazhi."
Barkley strode over, eyeing the tall newcomer. "Zhao Dong, ain't this the guy the Bulls tried to snatch?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Last year in the East Finals, we wrecked their paint. Phil Jackson's still traumatized by it. Guess he thought our inside wasn't solid enough, so they never gave this man a shot."
Danny Fortson felt his heart drop. Damn, the boss just brought in a fellow countryman... is he coming for my spot?
But after a beat, he shrugged it off. Whatever. I'm already not starting. And my foul trouble's way better now—I'm gettin' close to 35 minutes a game. With my boards and defense, no way anyone takin' my minutes.
Nearby,, Thomas, snapped a few photos of Dazhi and turned to Zhao Dong. "Zhao, what's Wang's role gonna be on the team?"
Zhao Dong grinned. "Hard to say right now, man. That's up to the coaching staff."
Then he added with a smirk, "Yo Thomas, stop tryna set me up with these trick questions, alright?"
Thomas laughed. "Got it, I'll behave."
Practice shifted gears fast. Coach Don Nelson Sr. was calling for some tactical drills. He set up an intra-squad scrimmage.
The White Team had Zhao Dong, Hu Weidong, Charlie Ward, Big Ben, and Dazhi—Don Nelson himself calling the shots.
On the Red Team: Fortson and Willis down low, Latrell and Billups outside, Barkley slotted at small forward, and Jeff Van Gundy coaching.
It was mostly starters versus backups.
Coach Nelson laid out the play: drive-heavy offense with pick-and-rolls, letting the bigs stretch the floor for Zhao Dong and Hu Weidong to attack.
Charlie Ward dribbled up top. Zhao Dong cut hard from the left wing and set a pick on Barkley before flaring back for a handoff.
Willis switched onto Zhao Dong, but he didn't have the foot speed to keep up. Zhao Dong burst past him and slashed straight into the paint.
Dazhi, instead of hanging around the perimeter, rolled down behind him.
Just as Zhao Dong met Big Ben at the rim, he jumped—but instead of forcing the shot, he twisted midair and dished behind him to Dazhi, who followed with a powerful slam over Big Ben's shoulder.
"Yo! That's clean!" Yang Yi shouted, frantically snapping pictures.
"Nice chemistry," Thomas added, catching the aftermath.
Beep!
Assistant coach Tom Thibodeau blew his whistle. Blocking foul on Big Ben.
Zhao Dong's fake had Big Ben jumping early, and when Dazhi went up for the finish, Ben couldn't recover in time. Call was fair.
Big Ben looked over, a bit betrayed. Really, boss? First play and I get dunked on because of you?
"I got this one!" Barkley chimed in quickly, trying to cover for Ben. "I switched onto Dazhi late. He slipped past me. My bad."
At 7'1" with a 12.4-second 100-meter time, Dazhi wasn't sluggish. He had solid straight-line speed—though his lateral quickness still needed work.
On defense, Dazhi got matched up with Barkley on the left wing. Barkley backed him down with that trademark big butt, making it hard for Dazhi to stay upright. Just as Barkley went for the turn-around jumper, Zhao Dong slid in from the weak side and swiped the ball clean.
"No chill at all…" Barkley muttered, hustling back on D.
Next possession, Zhao Dong waved for a low-post set.
He dropped the ball down to Dazhi on the left block. Big Ben was guarding from behind, and Willis was sitting in help position under the rim.
The moment Dazhi caught it, he faked high, sending Big Ben hopping. Then he spun baseline, took one strong dribble into the paint, and glided past Willis.
Mid-air, he cupped the ball with his left hand, extended fully, and dropped it in off the glass with a delicate fingertip finish.
"Finger-roll?" Thomas's eyes widened. He cursed himself for missing the shot with his camera.
Clap! Clap!
Coach Nelson applauded from the sidelines. "That's some footwork. Soft touch too. For a big man? That's rare."
"Hope he holds up against real contact," Thibs said, standing nearby. "This is just in-house. Defense ain't tight yet."
"True, but not bad for a start," Nelson nodded.
Zhao Dong clapped his hands and turned to Ben, Willis, and Barkley.
"Alright, now start pressin'. Go regular season mode. I wanna see pressure—make it real."
"You serious?" Barkley asked.
"Of course. Dazhi's defense might be suspect, but I've always told him—offense needs to be tested. If he can score under NBA pressure, he's legit."
In the next training match, Dazhi faced heavy defensive pressure—but that didn't stop him from showing off his offensive bag.
He was straight cash from deep and mid-range, lighting it up with no blind spots on offense. Like a high-point turret sitting on the perimeter, he could shoot over just about anyone. But here's the thing—he wasn't just some catch-and-shoot spot-up guy. Nah, he could handle the rock, go iso, and still knock down shots even when someone was in his face.
To deal with Dazhi's lack of physicality, Zhao Dong had specifically pushed him to tighten up his footwork and quickness off the dribble. More separation meant more buckets. And with his size? Man, there weren't many dudes who could guard him on the perimeter.
In the paint? Different beast. Even Big Ben had trouble handling him one-on-one. Without help from Willis, Big Ben was getting danced on in the low post. Dazhi's footwork was slick, and once he got close to the rack, he had all kinds of finishes that made him look like a true post threat.
After the run, Zhao Dong nodded in approval. Offensively, Dazhi was killin' it. Two years of NBA-style training had paid off. This version of Dazhi? Way better than the one from the past. You could call him "Dazhi 2.0."
The 70 offensive rating he'd mentioned to Zhang Heli before? Nah, that was too conservative. Right now, he was pushing 75. Not quite starting material on a top-tier team yet, but solid rotation guy potential. On a weaker squad? He could start for sure—at least on offense.
But defense? That's where things got real. If he didn't improve that side of his game, he'd be glued to the bench on a contender like the Bulls. Zhao Dong could see the potential in him, though. He saw glimpses of another Yao Ming.
The difference? Yao might not have been as naturally gifted, but he didn't back down from contact. He grinded harder, pushed further, and had that unshakable drive.
For both Dazhi and Yao, Zhao Dong emphasized footwork, mobility, and learning from the greats—Hakeem, Ewing, and Robinson. The blueprint was there.
Later, after the scrimmage, Coach Don Nelson and Van Gundy pulled aside to talk over what they'd seen.
"Offensively, he gives me Hakeem vibes. Like a lighter version," Nelson said with a smirk.
Van Gundy shook his head slightly. "He's got range that Dream never had. Dude can hit threes. That spacing is valuable. But overall, he's not at Dream's level. And physically? He ain't there yet. Defense is still shaky."
"That's why I had Zhao Dong and the others back him up defensively," Nelson said, still smiling. "Every player's got weaknesses. It's on us to hide those and play to their strengths. Get five guys complementing each other, and you've got a team."
Van Gundy nodded. He wasn't thrilled about Dazhi's defense, but tactically? The White Team held up fine during the match. Adding Dazhi brought more options to the table, especially on offense, where the Knicks had been lacking firepower in the paint.
---
November 19 — Knicks vs. Timberwolves at Madison Square Garden
It was a big game.
This season, the Timberwolves had gone all in to build around Kevin Garnett. They locked him in with a massive $126 million deal—the second billion-dollar contract in the league after Zhao Dong's mega-deal.
To make room for KG to shine, they'd traded away their top scorer Tom Gugliotta to the Suns and handed the keys to Garnett. They also picked up Joe Smith, a free agent from the now-collapsing Warriors.
After the whole Latrell Sprewell choke incident, the Warriors were in shambles. They dealt Joe Smith to the Wolves during the '97-'98 season before losing him for nothing. Smith turned down the extension, became a free agent, and ended up right back with the Wolves.
Now, with Garnett, Smith (the No.1 pick in 1995), and Stephon Marbury (a 1996 draft beast) running the show, Minnesota had a legit Big Three. A young core, hungry for a deep playoff push—at least the second round, maybe even the West Finals.
Coming into tonight, the Wolves were 5–2, sitting fourth in the Western Conference.
Inside the Knicks locker room, Don Nelson stepped in with the game plan. When he read off the starters, heads turned.
Dazhi was starting.
Willis was going to rest this one out.
The decision wasn't random—Nelson wanted more offense from the post, and with Dazhi's skills, this was the perfect time to test him. Regular season game, Western Conference team, nothing too risky. Plus, when you had Zhao Dong anchoring the squad, why not try something bold?
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect Coach Nelson to be that daring—totally opposite from Van Gundy.
But Nelson knew what he was doing. If Dazhi struggled, they'd sub him out. No biggie. But if he balled out? That was a win.
Willis didn't trip. The vet understood the long game. At 36, he wasn't about to get burned out chasing minutes. Coming off the bench suited him just fine.
Zhao Dong walked over and clapped Dazhi on the shoulder.
"Yo, don't get nervous, man. Just treat this like a CBA game. You've been pro for three years already—ain't nothin' new."
Dazhi grinned. "Don't worry, Brother Dong. I got you. I'm not gonna mess this up."
Hu Weidong chuckled from the side. "Congrats, Dazhi. Go kill it out there. With the way you've been playing? You're definitely starter-level now."
"Thanks, Brother Hu." Dazhi nodded confidently.
Lights were on. Crowd was buzzin'. Dazhi was about to get his shot on the NBA stage.
And with Zhao Dong leading the charge, anything could happen.
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