The Mavericks changed their approach and added a new bargaining chip to the table: Cedric Ceballos.
Ceballos, a second-round pick from the 1990 draft, was now 30 years old. Due to the compressed schedule last season, he suffered a serious injury and only played 12 games. He was one of the many casualties of the lockout-shortened year.
As soon as Knicks GM Ernie Grunfeld received the offer sheet, he rejected it without hesitation. He wasn't about to be fooled by a player fresh off a major injury.
Larry Johnson's recent retirement had already burned him—costing the franchise millions. If he hadn't picked up Zhao Dong when he did, Ernie might've been out of a job by now. So he swore never to gamble on an injured player again—not even a sniff.
The Mavericks had no choice but to sweeten the deal. They put Gary Trent on the offer sheet in exchange for Cedric.
Trent, the 11th overall pick in the 1995 draft, was 25 years old. He appeared in 45 games last season, missing 5 due to injury. He started 23 of them, averaging 30 minutes per game with 16 points and 7.8 rebounds. He was considered a core rotation forward for Dallas.
After reviewing the stats, Ernie felt Trent could play a valuable role as a backup forward in New York.
But first, out of respect, he reached out to Ringo Wells to see if Dazhi was willing to head to Dallas.
Under normal circumstances, this formality wouldn't be necessary—but this was Zhao Dong's guy. You didn't bypass protocol with him.
"Mavericks?" Wells was surprised.
He remembered Michael Jordan had been negotiating with the Mavericks' ownership group. There were strong rumors he might soon become their new majority owner. If Dazhi went to Dallas... would he be playing under Jordan again?
"Yes," Ernie added. "They said if Dazhi comes, he'll be their starting center and run the low-post offense."
Wells thought for a second before nodding. "Alright. Let's do it."
"Great," Ernie grinned. "I'll finalize the trade with Dallas."
---
"Mavericks, huh?" Zhao Dong chuckled when he heard the news. Don Nelson never ended up coaching Dallas in this timeline, yet Dazhi still found his way there. Looks like fate had a sense of humor.
At that very moment, Dazhi was already in the air, flying over the Pacific. Whether he'd actually suit up for the Mavs next season... that remained to be seen.
With the Dazhi trade done, Ernie turned his attention to another priority: contacting Manu Ginóbili in Europe.
The Knicks weren't planning to sign their late second-round pick this year—they didn't believe he had NBA-level talent. That meant Ginóbili would be their only incoming rookie.
And they needed him badly.
Hu Weidong had opted out of his 2+1 player option, leaving the Knicks light on guard depth. Manu could fill that hole immediately.
Ginóbili was ecstatic when he got the call.
After some brief small talk, Ernie got to the point. "Manu, the team's offering a 3+1 deal. You were recommended by Zhao Dong, by the way."
"Wait—seriously?" Ginóbili's heart skipped a beat. Zhao Dong knows who I am?
Ernie chuckled. "Everyone Zhao recommends has turned out great. You won't lack for opportunities here. If you've been watching the Knicks, you'll know—we're short-handed, especially in the backcourt. So, wrap things up in Europe as fast as you can and get to New York."
"Yes, sir!" Ginóbili replied. "I'll have my agent handle the release right away."
---
Once Manu's situation was locked down, Ernie moved on to the next major decision: trading Chauncey Billups.
Several teams had sent in offers, and he was evaluating them carefully.
Billups had played one-and-a-half seasons as the Knicks' starting point guard. He'd shaken off his early-career struggles and now had real value as a rising floor general.
"Lakers? Pistons?" Ernie muttered, reading through the proposals.
The Lakers' offer was weak—Derek Fisher, a filler role player, and some cash. That was a hard pass. Fisher was barely a rotation-level guy. No way was Ernie trading Billups for that package.
But more importantly, the Lakers were loaded. With a healthy Shaq and Kobe on the rise, they were legitimate title contenders. Strengthening them was out of the question.
Truth be told, if Ben Wallace hadn't flat-out refused to go to L.A. earlier, Ernie would've never entertained a trade with them at all.
The Pistons, on the other hand, had just watched Joe Dumars retire. They needed a new leader at the point and saw Billups as their guy.
Their offer? Jerry Stackhouse—acquired from the Sixers.
Stackhouse had been the 3rd overall pick in 1995, a fellow UNC alum like Jordan. But last season, he'd been slapped across the face—literally and figuratively—by Zhao Dong during a game. A humbling moment.
He'd played 50 regular-season games last year but only started 9. Still, he posted decent numbers: 14 points, 2.5 rebounds, 2.8 assists in 28 minutes a game. Offense solid, defense a little shaky.
Stackhouse and Billups were both former No. 3 picks. Value-wise, the trade was even.
Ernie mulled it over for a few minutes, then pulled the trigger.
He believed Stackhouse could strengthen the Knicks' bench even if he didn't crack the starting lineup.
That bench depth was vital. The Knicks' deep playoff run this season was fueled by their ability to bring guys like Barkley and Wang off the bench—outplaying other teams' starters.
Now with Sprewell, Ginóbili, and Stackhouse all in the backcourt mix, the Knicks were almost set.
---
"I'm going to the Knicks?"
In Detroit, Stackhouse froze in place after receiving the news.
He immediately remembered that game during the 1997-98 season—the one where Zhao Dong slapped him mid-game. Not one Sixers teammate stood up for him. Nobody even had the guts to say anything.
That moment had stuck with him.
Back then, he swore to himself—if there was one team he'd ever want to play for, it was the Knicks. Because they had a real leader. Someone who actually protected his guys.
Now? That team was calling him in.
He was nervous. He didn't know if Zhao Dong would accept him, let alone trust him.
Meanwhile, back in New York, Zhao Dong and Lindsay were packing up for a flight—ready to return home to China.
When Zhao Dong returned, there were countless things demanding his attention—setting up investment banks and financial branches in both Hong Kong and mainland China, launching new industrial investment projects, and most importantly, preparing for the upcoming power play to replace the Guo family. The timing was perfect.
After the handover, Hong Kong rolled out its ambitious "85,000 Plan." The goal? To build at least 85,000 units of public housing every year and solve the housing issues for 70% of the population within a decade.
But this dream turned into a nightmare.
The plan coincided with a financial crisis that sent Hong Kong's real estate market crashing—prices plummeted 70%. Countless middle-class families went bankrupt overnight and slipped into what the media dubbed the "negative equity class."
Zhao Dong knew the endgame. This plan would ultimately fail. Combined with prolonged economic stagnation and escalating public discontent, it would all come to a head on July 1, 2003, when half a million people would flood the streets in protest.
But that was a battle for another day.
Right now, the four great families, including the Guos, had taken massive hits. Their foundations were weakened, and they hadn't yet recovered. It was the perfect time to strike.
---
July 30 — Beijing
"Brother Dong, I got a call from Mr. Wells. Am I going to the Mavericks?" The voice on the other end of the phone was excited. It was Dazhi, just off the plane in Beijing.
Zhao Dong leaned back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear. "Yeah, if you head to Dallas, you'll be starting at center. The Mavs have been middle-of-the-pack these last few seasons—no championship pressure. You can just go and play your game."
He paused, then added, "They're planning to give more minutes to that rookie Nowitzki next season. Big kid from Germany. Similar play style to yours—inside-out, face-up game. Learn from each other."
"Got it," Dazhi replied.
"Get back to the States as soon as you can. Train with Dream. You've gotta polish that low-post footwork."
---
July 3 — Beijing Capital International Airport
Lindsay had wrapped up affairs with the Storm Fund, and now she was at the international terminal with Zhao Dong. They weren't flying commercial—this trip was different.
Two Boeing 777s were parked on the tarmac, long-range intercontinental models capable of carrying 368 passengers. The entire flight was chartered.
The 777 first took flight in '94 and was now the world's largest twin-engine long-haul jet. But this wasn't about luxury.
Zhao Dong was building an empire.
Nearly a hundred elite Wall Street financial minds, dozens of personal bodyguards, and more than 150 specialized talents boarded the planes with them. These were the core members of Zhao Dong's team—veterans from Storm, plus new blood recruited from the top firms. They would fly directly to Hong Kong to set up the foundation of his investment bank.
Just as Zhao Dong was preparing to board, his phone rang.
It was Ringo wells.
"Zhao, Lewis and Holyfield just went on ESPN and challenged you live on air."
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. "Both of them?"
"Yeah. Lewis said: 'Even though Zhao Dong beat Mike last year, I'm not convinced. I want him in the ring. No excuses. A real fighter never turns down a challenge.'"
Then came Holyfield's soundbite: "The season's over, Zhao. Time to put the gloves on. I'm waiting."
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Man, these guys are relentless."
He paused a moment, then said, "Fine. Set up a few sparring partners and trainers for me. Send them to the Dongcheng training base in Beijing. I'll train for two months, then we'll talk."
"You serious?" Ringo wells sounded surprised.
"Yeah. Coordinate with the team and the league. Make it happen."
"Done. I'll handle it."
---
15 Hours Later — Beijing
Zhao Dong and Lindsay touched down at three in the afternoon. They passed through customs using the VIP channel—the entire itinerary was kept confidential.
Waiting outside was Zhao Dacheng, who'd arrived two hours early with two minibuses prepped for the group.
"Bro!"
He waved excitedly as he spotted Zhao Dong coming out with Lindsay.
"Brother," Zhao Dong greeted with a smile. Lindsay followed, waving warmly.
"Wow, it's been over half a year since we last met," Dacheng said, eyes lighting up.
Lindsay smiled. "How are grandfather, grandmother, and our parents doing?"
"They're doing great! Eating well, sleeping well, living even better." Dacheng grinned.
Zhao Dong laughed. "That's all I want to hear."
His younger brother looked around at the entourage. Dozens of tall, muscular foreign bodyguards flanked Zhao Dong and Lindsay. The sight was intimidating, even for Beijing.
"Bro, you really made a scene!" Dacheng joked. "You should drop by the compound one day and let those idiots take a good look. They think foreigners are gods. All they do is dream of going abroad. Guys and girls both—obsessed with leaving China."
Zhao Dong smirked. "I don't have time for that."
"Come on! Just one day. Let's walk through the compound, let them see what real swagger looks like!"
"Maybe tomorrow, Chengcheng," Zhao Dong replied. "Let's head home first."
"What about your guys?" Dacheng pointed to the entourage. "There's no way the house fits all of them."
"They'll head to a hotel," Zhao Dong said. "No need to worry."
Lindsay turned to her personal assistant. "Mei Lin, once we get home, please take everyone to a nearby hotel and get them settled."
"Yes, ma'am," Mei Lin replied politely in fluent Mandarin.
Dacheng froze. "Wait—what?"
That Mandarin sounded cleaner than his own.
Mei Lin smiled. She was Dolores' distant niece—a linguistic genius fluent in eight languages. She was in charge of sensitive operations for Lindsay and had recently joined her team.
"Brother, she speaks Mandarin better than me!" Dacheng laughed as they headed for the vehicles.
"Mei Lin, thank you," Lindsay added.
"No problem, Mr. Zhao. I'll take care of it," Mei Lin answered again in Mandarin.
Dacheng shook his head in amazement. "I don't know how you find people like this."
An hour later, around 4 PM, Zhao Dong's convoy arrived at Sanbulao Hutong.
"Dongdong, Weiwei, you two must be tired. Go on home—the old man and the old lady are waiting for you!"
(TL: Weiwei Is the nickname for Lindsay chinese name.)
Zhao Dong's mother, Li Meizhu, was already standing at the entrance of the alley when she saw them approach. Her face lit up with joy, full of motherly warmth.
"Mom, I missed you so much!"
Lindsay ran up, wrapped her arms around Li Meizhu's arm, and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek.
"Aiyah! Weiwei is such a good girl!"
Li Meizhu beamed, touching Lindsay's head lovingly. "Out of all the daughters-in-law here in Sanbulao Hutong, our Weiwei is the most well-mannered and considerate. Like a little cotton-padded jacket in winter, always keeping mom warm!"
"Hehe!"
Lindsay chuckled happily, completely unbothered by the crowd.
Meilin and the dozen bodyguards trailing behind exchanged awkward glances.
"Is this really the same Lindsay—the Wall Street legend?"
Just then, some of the alley neighbors began to gather.
"See? I told you Dongdong was back!"
"It's really Zhao Dong!"
"Brother Dongzi is home, come out quick!"
It was still working hours on Thursday, but word of Zhao Dong's return spread like wildfire. People poured out—elders, kids on summer break, and even the jobless loafers. The Hutong instantly became lively.
"Whoa, look at all those foreigners!"
"Didn't I hear that Dongdong and his wife are major players in America's finance scene? Are these all their bodyguards?"
"The Zhao family has a legacy—aren't both his grandparents retired generals? And didn't Zhenguo just get promoted to deputy minister? Now Dongdong and his wife are loaded too... what a powerhouse!"
But once the neighborhood folks noticed the well-dressed bodyguards and foreign assistants, their excitement quieted down, replaced by hushed murmurs and whispers.
Meanwhile, inside the Zhao courtyard…
"Lingzi, you're playing the bad guy this time," said Old Man Zhao Zhongguo, eyes squinting slyly.
"Why me? Aren't you always the one doing that? I don't have the heart to scare Dongdong and my granddaughter-in-law."
"This is called tactics! If even you can't pull it off, how can we expect the young couple to take it seriously?"
"Alright, alright… But just scare Dongdong a little. Don't scare Weiwei—she has no parents."
"Fine."
The two elders were already planning their little act as Zhao Dong arrived at the courtyard gate.
"Grandpa, Auntie, we're not eating at home tonight! Remember, we're going out!" Zhao Dong shouted cheerfully to the surrounding uncles and aunties before reaching the courtyard.
"Grandpa! Grandma!" Zhao Dong called out as he pulled Lindsay along with him.
But the moment he saw the cold expressions on his grandparents' faces—especially Grandma Tan Ling, who was usually full of smiles—he felt his heart skip a beat.
What's going on?
"Quick, kowtow to your grandparents," Zhao Dong muttered under his breath.
No matter how far he'd come in life, in front of them, he was still the same kid who used to run barefoot through the alley. Kowtowing was a small price to pay for their smiles.
Before Lindsay could kneel down with him, Grandma Tan Ling immediately pulled her up.
"Grandma, it's my duty—"
"Dongdong's so filial," she said, still stern-faced, holding Lindsay's hand. "You better make up for your wife too. Kowtow a few more times on her behalf!"
"Grandma, you look younger and healthier than ever!"
Lindsay gave her another kiss and spoke sweetly. The old lady, who'd been trying hard to keep her stern face, finally broke into laughter.
Dongdongdong!
Zhao Dong went all in, knocking his head to the ground six or seven times until Old Man Zhao waved his hand.
Zhao Dong helped him up and walked alongside him into the courtyard.
"Grandpa," he whispered, "Grandma's mad at me about something? Want to give me a heads-up?"
Old Man Zhao snorted. "It's June again. Still no kid? You waiting for us to kick the bucket first?"
"What? No! You and Grandma will live past a hundred. I'm still counting on you to help raise my son!"
"Then stop waiting around!"
From ahead, Lindsay overheard and turned back with a playful smirk.
"Grandma, don't worry," Zhao Dong quickly said. "Weiwei and I already talked. Next year, we'll start trying."
Seeing the grandparents' faces start to harden again, he quickly added: "Actually—this year! Right, Ai Weier?"
"Yeah!" Lindsay nodded, smiling shyly. She'd been wanting to have a baby for a while now, but Zhao Dong kept saying she was too young.
"That's more like it."
The two old folks instantly lit up with joy.
Li Meizhu laughed in the back as well. She had nothing to do all day, and with the grandparents still strong and healthy, she wasn't needed. But if a baby showed up, she'd have purpose again.
After the Zhao family reunion, Meilin left five bodyguards behind while she took the rest to check in at a nearby hotel. Zhao Dacheng escorted them.
---
There was a tall pomegranate tree in the courtyard—planted a century ago by the old man's grandfather. It bore fruit every year, and when the pomegranates ripened, the kids from the alley would come by, climbing the walls to grab a taste.
Right now, the branches were full of pomegranate buds—green and full of life, hanging low under the sunlight.
Under the tree stood a stone table, already set with tea and snacks. Around it were recliners and cushioned wooden chairs, the old folks' favorite summer spot.
"It's nice and cool today," said Old Man Zhao, settling into his recliner. "Let's just stay out here. If it gets hot, we'll head inside and turn on the AC."
"It's comfortable here," Zhao Dong agreed, helping him sit down.
"Come, Weiwei! These are the Daoxiang Village pastries we bought for you," Li Meizhu said, setting a plate of delicate snacks in front of her.
"Mmm, they're delicious! Thank you, Mom."
Lindsay smiled brightly as she took a bite.
"We're family now. No need to be so formal," Li Meizhu chuckled.
"Mm!"
Lindsay nodded, her face glowing with joy.
---
(End of Chapter)
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