December 29th, noon.
The New York Knicks returned home after a dominant West Coast performance.
With a 13–4 record, the Knicks had fallen to second place in the Eastern Conference, just behind Allen Iverson's 76ers. The first month of the season had wrapped up.
Zhao Dong's numbers were staggering:
35 points, 12 rebounds, 10.5 assists, 1.8 steals, 3.3 blocks,
while playing 44.5 minutes per game.
Still, his scoring had dipped slightly.
That was the cost of Don Nelson's three-guard system. Zhao played more as a secondary ball-handler, initiating fast breaks and feeding the likes of Sprewell, Stackhouse, and Ginobili—sacrificing touches for wins.
The next matchup: December 1st, a home game against the New Jersey Nets.
Two full days of rest ahead.
That evening, Zhao Dong sat at home, flipping through the channels, when his phone buzzed.
James Dolan.
"Zhao, lunch tomorrow?"
Zhao paused, a slight smirk forming. He already knew why Dolan was calling.
December 30th, noon.
At a quiet Midtown restaurant, Zhao Dong arrived to find Dolan already seated.
".James," Zhao said, smiling. "You doing alright?"
Dolan offered a stiff smile and nodded awkwardly.
"You probably know why I called."
Zhao laughed softly.
"Let me guess—Lindsay's in China?"
"No," Dolan shook his head. "You talked to Mrs. Lindsay about the U.S. stock market, didn't you? Come on, Zhao. Help me out. I owe you one."
Zhao leaned back, swirling the ice in his glass.
"We did talk," he admitted. "But you might not like what I have to say."
Dolan's face darkened.
"So... it's going to keep dropping?"
Zhao raised an eyebrow.
"Drop? James, 'adjustment' is too gentle. We're in a bear market. And it's not even close to over."
Dolan's shoulders slumped. He sighed deeply.
"I've already lost so much…"
Zhao tilted his head.
"How much?"
Dolan hesitated, then finally admitted:
"The market value of our family's listed company has dropped 30%. Personally, I'm down 40%. The company's lost $500 million in cash, and I've lost another $200 million of my own. I barely have liquid assets left."
Zhao blinked.
And this is only the beginning...
The Nasdaq hadn't even broken below 4,000 yet. Zhao knew the real bloodbath would come when it dipped near 1,100, which it eventually would.
He leaned in, curious.
"That much in cash? Were you leveraged?"
Dolan looked away, embarrassed.
"We went in deep. Stocks, futures—you name it. Personally and through the company."
Zhao exhaled slowly.
"Well... futures are a lost cause. You either ride them out or get wrecked. As for stocks—cut your losses if you can. Either that, or sit at the top of the mountain and wait for the storm to pass. Eventually, you'll climb out."
Dolan leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Zhao... I was long before. But now—now I want to go short. Join Storm. Ride the crash."
His cheeks flushed with guilt.
Last time, he'd ignored Zhao's advice. Chose to side with Wall Street's consensus.
Now, after heavy losses, he was back—hat in hand.
"Help me," he said. "You run the Knicks. If you want, I'll even sell you Madison Square Garden. Just get me through this."
Zhao stared at him.
You're an industrialist, James. Not a hedge fund cowboy.
You should've sold when I told you. But now? You want to short at 4,100? You'll be cannon fodder when the big players take profits and flip long.
Storm Capital had already piled into shorts above 4,500, and they were cashing out. Once the 4,000 mark was breached, they'd start unloading positions, sparking a false rally to bait new money.
That's how it worked.
A new wave of retail investors—like Dolan—would get chewed up the moment they took the bait.
The bulls and bears weren't enemies.
They were the same people, wearing different masks each week.
Zhao gave him a look—part pity, part warning.
Dolan's scalp tingled. That look... it said, "You're about to drown."
Zhao sighed.
"James, stick to your roots. Focus on the media business. That still has value. Stay out of finance."
Dolan's eyes lit up.
"Wait—so it's turning around? The market's going to bounce?"
Zhao frowned.
"No. I'm telling you to back off because I don't want to see you go bankrupt. The market will keep dropping. If you've got garbage stocks, cut them loose. If they're quality companies, maybe hold on... but only if you're sure they're quality."
He leaned forward.
"Don't mistake rotten eggs for golden ones. That's how people go broke."
"If you can't sell it—like if your listed company's doing okay—then hold onto it. Survive the bear market, and your market value will recover. What's the rush?" Zhao Dong said calmly, sipping his water.
James Dolan sat across from him, stunned.
"That's... really the only way?"
Zhao raised an eyebrow.
"You tell me. I warned you, didn't I?"
He leaned in.
"Dump those bad investments. Even if you've taken losses, at least you'll free up cash. When the market really drops, asset prices will collapse too. You'll have a shot to pick up quality stocks at a bargain and make some of it back."
Dolan nodded, eager.
"Zhao, did Mrs. Lindsay say where the market's bottom is?"
"Who said it well?" Zhao smiled faintly.
He would never reveal Storm Capital's actual data or strategy. That kind of information was their gold mine—and handing it to Dolan would be a joke.
"Don't mess with futures," Zhao warned. "You're not beating Wall Street. Unless you're in that circle, you're just a target."
December 31st, 3:00 PM.
The New Jersey Nets arrived in New York by team bus. Close city, easy trip.
That night, Zhao Dong scheduled a private dinner—Yao Ming, and Stephon Marbury included.
Yao and Marbury had built a solid connection since becoming teammates, and Zhao, who had helped broker Yao's transition into the Nets' system, wanted to keep that chemistry warm.
You don't win with big men alone—you need guards who feed them, trust them, ride with them.
Just like Shaq and Kobe.
They met at an upscale Western restaurant. One bottle of red wine, three high-profiles, one table.
"Brother Dong, you cooked the Lakers last game!" Yao laughed. "Man, we were up by twenty in the first quarter!"
"That dunk over Shaq—no, both of them—those were insane!" Marbury added, eyes wide.
Zhao Dong chuckled.
"Shaq's no joke. I just caught him off guard. He wasn't ready. Honestly, he's not a real leader—he didn't adjust when things went south.
Phil Jackson though? He's a master at turning chaos into structure. The Lakers won't stay down for long."
Zhao's words turned prophetic by nightfall.
That same evening, the Lakers faced the Spurs in San Antonio.
And they snapped.
The OK duo exploded—combining for 66 points.
The team dished 27 assists, and buried the Spurs.
Shaquille O'Neal?
A monster return: 40 points, 13 rebounds, 6 blocks, 71% shooting.
The Spurs' vaunted Twin Towers had no answers.
Zhao Dong watched it live from his apartment and murmured:
"Now that's Shaquille O'Neal."
By month's end, the standings were tight:
Philadelphia (Iverson's 76ers): 14–3, best record in the league
Knicks, Lakers, and Spurs: 13–4, tied
Knicks: 2nd in the East, 2nd in the league
Lakers: 1st in the West, 3rd overall
Spurs: 2nd in West, 4th overall
---
December 1st, 9:00 AM.
The league announced its Player of the Month.
Zhao Dong earned the honor for November.
But when the MVP ladder dropped, controversy followed.
Despite averaging a 30+ point triple-double, Zhao was ranked second.
Top spot?
Allen Iverson.
Iverson's numbers:
30.5 PPG, 3.8 RPG, 4.5 APG, 2.4 SPG, minimal turnovers and fouls.
Not as dominant statistically—but with the best record and a recent win over the Knicks, he edged ahead.
Some were glad to see a new face.
Others were tired of Zhao Dong's dominance—two-time reigning MVP, still in his prime.
David Stern, however, wasn't thrilled. Iverson's gritty, hip-hop persona clashed with the league's desired image.
The Knicks? Suit-and-tie. Classic. Gentlemanly. Marketable.
Stern was even considering banning the street-style dress code that Iverson inspired.
---
That evening, reporters swarmed the Knicks' locker room pregame.
A New York Times journalist fired the first question.
"Zhao Dong, you're averaging over 30 points, a triple-double, and still ranked second. What do you think about the MVP rankings?"
Zhao shrugged.
"The Philly been great."
Then his tone shifted.
"But I'll say this—they're not making the Finals. We'll take it back."
The room tensed.
Another reporter followed up.
"Iverson said he believes the rankings are fair. Do you?"
Zhao leaned back, calm but direct.
"Everyone's got their own lens. What's fair to one guy isn't fair to another. I'm not Iverson. I see it differently."
"But right now, his team is first in the league," the reporter pressed. "Aren't they the favorites?"
Zhao scoffed.
"It's only December. Can you guarantee they'll stay at the top? Even if they finish first in the regular season—so what?
You can still get knocked out early.
Anything's possible."
CCTV's Yang Yi stepped in with a grin.
"Zhao Dong, any message for Yao Ming tonight?"
Zhao grinned.
"Yeah—tell him to move when I dunk."
"Pfft—!"
Yang Yi burst out laughing.
December 1, 8:15 PM – Madison Square Garden was packed to the rafters.
Marv Albert was on the call for NBC, flanked by Doug Collins. "The Knicks are rolling, the Nets are rising, and tonight we get a showdown—Zhao Dong vs. Yao Ming!"
Starting Lineups:
New Jersey Nets: Yao Ming, Keith Van Horn, Kerry Kittles, Kendall Gill, Stephon Marbury
New York Knicks: Zhao Dong, Danny Fortson, Latrell Sprewell, Jerry Stackhouse, Manu Ginóbili
---
CCTV Studio – Beijing Broadcast
Su Qun: "Hu Weidong, Wang Zhizhi, Mengke Bateer, and now Yao Ming—all followed in Zhao Dong's footsteps. He truly opened the gates to the NBA for Chinese basketball."
Zhang Heli: "There were pioneers before—Song Tao and Ma Jian—but unfortunately, Song Tao's career ended before it began due to injury. Now? Zhao Dong not only made it, he's building the path."
Su Qun: "The Nadongcheng Training Base in Beijing, built by Zhao Dong, is world-class. I visited—it's a professional fortress for elite development."
Zhang Heli: "Officially co-managed now, it serves as China's national training center. Zhao Dong pumps millions into it yearly. We're talking international-grade trainers, equipment, and rehab services. It's revolutionizing Chinese sports science."
---
Tip-off – 8:30 PM
Fortson and Yao Ming met at center court. The whistle blew—Yao controlled the tip, and the Nets opened the game.
"Look who's guarding Yao—it's Zhao Dong!" Zhang Heli exclaimed. "But Zhao's holding him off, forcing him outside."
Marbury hit Yao on the left block. No double-team. Yao gave Zhao one hard backdown, spun, and launched a high-arching fadeaway jumper.
Zhao contested, but the release was too clean.
Swish!
Two points.
Zhao Dong grinned. "Good shot," he muttered.
Yao's mechanics were smooth. At 7'6", with his soft touch and high release, that fadeaway was nearly unguardable. Even against someone as explosive as Zhao Dong, it was clean.
Knicks possession.
Zhao Dong drifted out to the left wing, pulling Yao with him.
That's a mismatch.
Van Horn switched on the screen, but he was no match for Zhao's footwork. Zhao hit a quick spin, surged past Van Horn, and flew into the paint.
Van Horn scrambled, retreating under the basket—too late.
BOOM!
Zhao hammered a two-handed dunk that shook the rim. Garden exploded.
Su Qun chuckled on the Chinese broadcast, "Yao doesn't need Van Horn, he needs someone like Ben Wallace."
Zhang Heli replied, "Even with Big Ben, Zhao Dong would find a way. His drive is too strong. Your only hope is a tight double and quick rotation. Otherwise, it's a highlight every time."
---
Commentary Insight
Su Qun: "Coach Zhang, who can guard Zhao Dong?"
Zhang Heli: "No one man can. The best hope is to slow him down. Keep him from building momentum. If he picks up steam, even Shaq gets bulldozed, like in the Lakers game."
Su Qun: "They tried Ben Wallace at the top of the key that night, but…"
Zhang Heli: "That was a regular season game. Wallace didn't go all-out. Plus, the Lakers didn't rotate properly. Once Zhao broke through the top defender, no one else collapsed. That's how he ended up dunking on O'Neal twice."
Su Qun: "So zone defense is the key?"
Zhang Heli nodded. "Exactly. Man-to-man isn't enough. Zone schemes force Zhao to pick apart a set, and that buys you time. Phil Jackson had no answer because with three guards, the Knicks stretch every defensive coverage."
---
Game Recap
The Nets tried. They really did. But Van Horn and Yao couldn't contain Zhao Dong's inside-out onslaught. Ginóbili, Sprewell, and Stackhouse thrived off Zhao's playmaking. The Knicks moved the ball like clockwork.
But it wasn't a blowout. Yao Ming had a breakout night.
The rookie center played 38 minutes, dropped 33 points on 14-of-24 shooting, and hit 5-of-6 from the line. He flashed elite footwork, timing, and polish. Zhao Dong even relaxed his defense at times, allowing Yao to shine.