"So, Willis, what round you think the Knicks get bounced in?" Matt Goukas asked.
Willis Reed paused, thinking it over, then said, "Based on what the media's been saying and what Dr. Macko told us, Zhao Dong's gonna need about a month to fully heal. His ribs aren't broken, but they still gotta recover. By then, the Eastern Conference Finals will already be underway.
Honestly, without Zhao Dong, we might not even make it outta the second round.
But real talk, even if it means sacrificing this playoff run, we ain't lettin' him play hurt. He's way too young, and he's got a bright future. As long as he stays healthy, the Knicks are set for years.
I just hope all the Knicks fans out there don't start pressuring Zhao Dong to play through pain if things go south. That ain't the move."
Marv Albert chimed in, "Actually, without Zhao Dong in the lineup, y'all need to worry more about the first round, not the second."
"Nah, nah, we'll be fine against the Cavs—even without Zhao," Reed replied confidently.
Matt Goukas raised an eyebrow. "Don't sleep on Cleveland. They might be the 7th seed, but they ain't soft. They got Shawn Kemp this season—still an All-Star. Inside, he's teamed up with Big Z, the 20th pick from the 1996 draft. This year's his rookie season. Dude started 81 games, played all 82, averaged 29 minutes, dropped 14 a night with 8.8 boards. Solid numbers."
He continued, "Now, the Cavs' perimeter game? Kinda weak. That's where New York might have an edge."
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar added, "But look at the Knicks' frontcourt. To get the young guys more minutes, Oakley's been playing less. The two new bigs? They got defense, sure, but can they handle Shawn Kemp's power? That's the question.
If they can't slow down Kemp, I don't think the Knicks make it outta the first round."
Black Seven.
That phrase popped into every viewer's head the moment Kareem dropped that last line.
Zhao Dong gently touched the bandaged wound on his chest. It itched.
He agreed with Kareem. Without him, the Knicks had no post presence on offense. Even if Oakley got his starting job back, he couldn't back dudes down and get buckets in the paint.
So New York's entire offense would fall on the backcourt—and their jump shots? Mad shaky.
Houston, Starks, and Billups? All streaky as hell. If they went cold, it was a wrap.
Meanwhile, Cleveland had Kemp and Big Z feasting in the paint. Their shots were all close-range—high percentage. Way more efficient than jacking up contested threes.
The more Zhao Dong thought about it, the more he realized—yeah, the Knicks might actually be in trouble in round one.
"System, you think I can heal faster than expected?" Zhao Dong asked, half-joking.
"The host possesses a level 100 injury immunity that surpasses human limits. Your recovery speed is one to three times faster than average, depending on injury severity," the system replied.
"For real?"
Zhao Dong instantly perked up.
His wound was moderate—so maybe double the recovery speed? It was supposed to take four weeks to heal, but now?
"System, don't make me do the math. How long exactly?" he asked.
"One week," the system said flatly.
"Even the ribs?"
"Yes."
Zhao Dong grinned. It was April 19. Game 1 of the first round was on the 23rd. Game 2 was the 25th. Game 3? The 27th.
If all went according to plan, he could be back for Game 3.
Since the first round was still best-of-five, showing up for Game 3 would be clutch. They just had to hold the line till then.
The next day, ESPN dropped their updated title odds. The Knicks, who had been ranked second just last week, completely vanished from the list. No love from the media.
At noon, Wells sent a doctor to Zhao Dong's place to change his bandages, and Ernie Grunfeld pulled up too.
"No signs of infection. Looks good," the doc said, carefully unwrapping the gauze.
"Babe, does it hurt?" Lindsay's eyes welled up again when she saw the wound on his chest.
"Nah, it's nothing," Zhao Dong said coolly, no change in expression.
The doctor looked surprised. "His muscle's regenerating fast—real fast. Healing's going great."
"That's what we wanna hear!" Wells and Grunfeld said in unison.
"This recovery speed is beyond normal. Zhao Dong, you might actually be Iron Man for real," the doc joked.
Wells laughed. "Told y'all—Zhao Dong got that superhuman gene."
The doctor nodded. "Years back, I treated this white guy who got shot. His wounds were worse than Zhao's, but dude healed at insane speed—like a real-life superman. Took him just under two weeks to recover from something that'd take the average person over a month. Crazy stuff."
"You think Zhao can bounce back early like that?" Grunfeld asked, hopeful.
The Knicks had zero morale right now—from the execs to the bench players, even the fans. Everyone was on edge.
But if Zhao Dong could make an early comeback? That would change everything.
The doctor smiled. "It's only day two, so let's not jump the gun. Still need to monitor things. But I'll tell you this—he won't need the full month."
Grunfeld nodded, then looked Zhao Dong dead in the eye. "Still, man—you gotta be 100% before you suit up again. No shortcuts. We'd rather take the L this year than risk your future."
He knew it deep down. Even if Zhao Dong healed fast, forcing him into the early rounds might backfire. The Knicks' chances weren't great anyway—no point in rushing it.
By April 22, the Knicks had already played Game 1 of the first round. At 10 a.m., Grunfeld and Wells came back with the doctor to check up on Zhao Dong again.
They were in high spirits. His wound? Healing like a cheat code. The doc said it was beyond ideal—like, on some mutant healing-type stuff.
After unwrapping the gauze, the doc took one look and smiled.
"Man, your muscle growth is lookin' real good. I swear, this is the second time I've seen a dude bounce back like a superhuman. Zhao Dong, you really built different—like Iron Man out here. Give it another week and that wound's gonna be fully healed."
"Yo, that's crazy!"
Ernie Grunfeld and Wells were hyped.
This time, Grunfeld didn't even try to hold Zhao Dong back from coming back early.
As long as the Knicks didn't get smoked in the first three games, and the series dragged into Game 4 or 5, there was still hope if Zhao Dong came back at the end of the month.
The three of them chopped it up and decided to keep the news in-house—just let the team know, but don't go public with it.
The Knicks were low on morale, and this kind of news could light a fire in the squad.
At the same time, keeping Zhao Dong's early return a secret would catch the Cavs off guard—no way they'd expect it, and that might stop 'em from sweeping.
"Let 'em know I'm back on the 29th. Game 4 at the latest. They gotta hang on 'til then."
Zhao Dong was confident he could be ready by Game 3 on the 27th, but he didn't want that info to leak—so he set a little trap for his own team.
Once Grunfeld dipped, Wells hit Zhao Dong with some news.
"Hummer wants you to be their global ambassador."
"They're talking about making a special ride just for you—like your own signature version. Iron Man-Hummer, they're calling it."
"How much they offering? I ain't messin' with lowball numbers." Zhao Dong cut straight to the point.
"They throwing out 50 mil a year for the endorsement," Wells said, trying to stay cool but clearly excited. "I didn't even talk deals yet 'cause I figured you might say no. Should I start working it?"
Zhao Dong didn't shoot it down, and Wells could barely contain himself—he knew he'd get 10% off the top. That's tens of millions in his pocket if the deal landed.
"Yeah, go ahead. Let's talk."
Zhao Dong shrugged like it was nothing.
"What about the film rights?" Wells asked, testing the waters.
"We'll talk," Zhao Dong said again, a little helpless.
Since he wasn't losing anything either way, might as well stack some extra cash.
Grunfeld rushed back to the training facility, kicked the reporters out, and immediately pulled Nelson and the rest of the coaching staff to the side.
When they heard Zhao Dong might be back for Game 4, they lit up.
Then he called in the players and broke the news.
"Zhao Dong's gonna be back in Game 4? Yo, let's go!"
"Man's a machine."
"Long live the captain!"
The whole team was hyped, and the energy in the room flipped instantly.
"This doesn't leave the locker room. You get me?" Grunfeld said sternly.
"Got it!" the players echoed.
Old man Nelson stepped up.
"We gotta go hard in these first three games. As long as we don't get swept, once Zhao's back—we got a real shot at the second round."
"Swept? You think the Cavs got it like that?" Oakley said, his eyes burning.
"We'll hold it down till Zhao Dong's back, no doubt."
That afternoon, the Cavs rolled into New York and held a press conference at their hotel.
Even though he'd just been traded this season, Shawn Kemp was still the biggest name on the roster and the face of the team. Naturally, the reporters swarmed him.
"Shawn, you feeling good about this first-round series with the Knicks?" one reporter asked.
"We ain't just coming to win—man, we coming to sweep the Knicks!" Kemp said, eyes lit.
" A sweep? For real?"
Reporters were stunned, then quickly got hyped.
"How you plan on sweepin' New York?" asked Thomas, the Knicks beat reporter.
"Me and Big Z gonna destroy their frontcourt. It's light work," Kemp said confidently.
"Ain't you worried Zhao Dong might make a comeback early?" one reporter pressed.
"You really think he's Iron Man?" Kemp scoffed.
Back in the city, James Dolan had already planned something. He sent a local New York TV crew over to Zhao Dong's crib for an interview—aired it live.
"Zhao Dong, Shawn Kemp just said he plans to sweep the Knicks. You think he can back that up?" the reporter asked.
"Why not ask me how I feel about that Sweep talk?" Zhao Dong grinned.
"Sweep already set in stone, no?" the reporter joked.
"Then I'ma tell you this—we ain't gettin' swept, and we sure as hell ain't letting a Black Seven happen," Zhao Dong said.
"I refuse to lose. I refuse to get swept…
"Make the second round. Wait for Iron Man to return!"
The interview lit up Knicks Nation. Fans swarmed the team HQ and the practice facility, chanting slogans and holding signs.
Next day—Game 1 of Round 1.
Four games went down across the East and West, including the Knicks vs. Cavs in the Garden.
That morning, New York media went wild.
Some were already counting the Knicks out.
The New York Times:
"Swept is inevitable. The Knicks are on the verge of getting swept. All we can do is hope Zhao Dong comes back in time!"
New York Sports Daily:
"Sweep? Nah—we ain't going down like that. The Knicks won't be swept."
Another big business paper also covered Zhao Dong—but instead of focusing on the series, they talked about his insane market power and commercial influence.
It said in the report:
["Since the launch of the All-Star Silver Demon Generation 1, Nike and Adidas stock dropped 30% and 35% in just two months, and Reebok tanked 40%.
The reason? In North America alone, the Silver Demon Gen 1 sold 3.7 million pairs in two months—stealing a wild 18% market share from Nike, Adidas, and Reebok.
On the afternoon of the 19th, Zhao Dong got shot. By the morning of the 20th, Nike stock shot up 7%. Today, it's up 17%. The same goes for the rest.
What's that say? Zhao Dong's impact ain't just on the hardwood anymore—he's shaking up Wall Street too.
But investors need to chill. Zhao Dong's injuries ain't career-threatening. Both bullet wounds are fully recoverable.
The Silver Demon 1s are cooking so hard that even Nike and Adidas can't keep up. So the moment Zhao Dong's back on the court, those stocks are gonna drop again—believe that..."]
"Lindsay, hit up Beijing. Tell 'em we need to drop some Iron Man playoff kicks ASAP," Zhao Dong said with a smirk after reading the report. "We about to crash Nike and Adidas stocks all over again."
Lindsay grinned. "HQ's already got several versions of the Silver Demon lined up. We can roll out a special edition anytime—we just need to tweak the colorway. No tech issues. But… we'd need the Iron Man copyright from Marvel."
"That's wild. Silver Demon basically made Iron Man pop off again. Marvel should be payin' us," Zhao Dong laughed.
By 6 PM, after dinner, Lindsay drove Zhao Dong to Madison Square Garden.
"Sweep away the black seven! Refuse to be swept! Make it to the second round…"
MSG was already jumping. The fans didn't care about Zhao Dong sitting out or the team being on the edge—they still came out loud. Slogans echoed through the air.
"Knicks fans can be ruthless," Zhao Dong muttered as they drove by. "But they love this team."
"Oh damn, it's Zhao Dong! Wait—nah, that's Iron Man!"
"Zhao Dong, how's the leg, bro? When you back?"
"Yo, does it really take a whole month?"
Zhao Dong sat in a wheelchair to protect his injury. As he showed up in the underground lot, a bunch of MSG staff and security swarmed him with questions.
"Alright, y'all, break it up and get back to work," said Ernie Grunfeld, rolling up with some execs to clear the scene.
"Miss Lindsay, let me take over," Ernie offered, taking the wheelchair himself. "Appreciate it."
"Zhao Dong, without you, our ticket sales are down 30% from last season," said Lewis, the Knicks' President of Operations with a half-smile.
"How's jersey sales in China?" Zhao Dong asked.
Lewis lit up. "Best in the league. You alone outsell the rest of the stars combined—doubled."
At the home locker room door, Coach Nelson and Van Gundy were hyped to see him.
"Yo, look who's here!" Thibodeau shouted, swinging the locker room door open.
"Oh snap, our boss is in the building!"
"Welcome Iron Man!"
The squad erupted when they saw Zhao Dong.
He didn't stay seated. He didn't show up to be a mascot—he came to light a fire. And sitting in a wheelchair wasn't the move.
"Zhao Dong, chill out!" Grunfeld yelled.
"Boss, easy!" the players echoed.
Zhao Dong waved it off and stood at the locker room entrance.
"Listen up! Win or lose tonight, we fight! We show the world that we're still the same iron-blooded Knicks squad chasing the chip. Got it?!"
"GOT IT!"
"We can lose games, but we don't lose heart. Anyone who disrespects the Knicks on that court ain't welcome on this squad! Do you hear me?!"
"LOUD AND CLEAR!"
Zhao Dong locked eyes with Ben Wallace and Danny Fortson.
"Ben, Danny…"
"Yes, boss?" Both looked nervous but focused.
"You and Charles are our rim protectors. I want to see clamps tonight! I want Shawn Kemp thinking twice about attacking. I want Big Z drifting further away from the paint every possession. You got me?!"
"Bet!"
The two clenched their fists, pumped with energy.
"Man, the morale just shot through the roof," Coach Nelson whispered outside.
Under Zhao Dong's words, the vibe in the locker room was completely different. No, it wasn't like when he was suited up—but it was a hundred times better than the past few days.
After spending some time in the locker room, Zhao Dong and Lindsay headed toward the court.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
"Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
"Iron Man!"
By the time they stepped out, it was almost 7 PM and MSG was packed to the rafters. The second Zhao Dong showed up, the place exploded in a tsunami of noise.
"Zhao Dong, Knicks got a shot tonight?"
"Of course."
"Are you coming back in the first round?"
"Depends on how the wound heals."
"Knicks have no shot at defending the title. Who's your pick for the chip?"
"Who said we're out of the title race?"
"So… you coming back early?"
"I'll be back when it matters most."
Zhao Dong kept signing autographs for kids courtside while juggling media questions. Security had him and Lindsay protected the whole time.
After ten minutes, the two finally sat down on the bench next to Ringo Wells.
"Wells, you got any updates on that bodyguard?"
"Man, I'm sorry, Zhao Dong. I only found average dudes. You want me to hit up Blackwater?" Wells asked, scratching his head.
"Hell no. I don't need a damn mercenary—I need a bodyguard," Zhao Dong snapped.
"It's all good, Mr. Wells. We can handle it ourselves," Lindsay said.
"Appreciate you, Miss Lindsay," Wells replied gratefully.
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