"Mr. President, if we only drug test Zhao Dong, that's gonna mess with our whole long-term plan," said the NBA Vice President.
"What're you sayin'?" Stern raised an eyebrow.
Seeing the nod from Stern, the VP leaned forward and laid it out. "We can't let this look like some race-based hit job. We're trying to tap into the Chinese and Asian markets, right? If we single out Zhao Dong, that's gonna blow back hard. So here's the play—I say we test everybody in the playoffs."
"That ain't it," Adam Silver blurted out before he could stop himself.
The VP shot Silver a cold look. He was pissed about being interrupted—especially since Silver had just been made special assistant to the president and was gunning for the VP role too. Competition was heating up.
"Mr. Silver, check yourself. You ain't got the status to interrupt me like that," he snapped.
"…"
Silver sat there, low-key embarrassed. He peeked over at Stern, but Stern wasn't even lookin' his way, which made it worse.
Truth is, the VP knew exactly why Silver spoke up. If they really drug tested everyone, a bunch of players would probably fail—and then every team with one of those dudes would be catching heat. Silver didn't want that smoke either.
So honestly, the VP didn't want league-wide testing to go down for real. What he really wanted was to drop that suggestion out there, stir things up a little, and shut down all the loudmouths who were tryna force Zhao Dong to take a piss test. 'Cause if they kept pressing, they might get caught up too.
And in the NBA? It ain't like the Olympics or some strict pro league. It's a business. An entertainment company. Nobody cares if you're juicing, long as you put on a damn show and help sell out arenas.
All this dude was doing was using the threat of testing to make the other stars pipe down—'cause if they pushed too hard, it might backfire bad.
Once Silver kept his mouth shut, the VP explained his idea, and Stern gave him the greenlight.
Later that day, the Knicks had just pulled up to the hotel when someone inside the NBA front office leaked to the media that the league was considering testing all playoff players.
The news spread across the league in under 30 minutes.
Shawn Kemp? Dude was straight-up sweating bullets. He knew he'd fail for sure—dude was deep into the party life and probably had more chemicals in him than a lab rat.
He ran straight to the media, tryin' to flip the script. "Yo, I had some drinks this morning, I ain't even gonna lie! And I don't co-sign what Manley said. He's just talkin' reckless about Zhao Dong. For real—for real—he's slandering Zhao. I'm with Zhao Dong 100%. He should sue that clown!"
All afternoon? Not a single big-name player came forward sayin' they were down to get tested.
It wasn't that none of them could pass. But they knew better—'cause the minute the league made it official, dudes who couldn't pass would start pointing fingers at the ones who started the whole thing. Nobody wanted that drama.
And just like that, the media pressure cooled down real quick.
---
"Mr. President, our stock price just stopped climbin'."
At Nike HQ, an assistant broke the news to CEO Philip Knight.
"Yeah, I figured."
Knight waved him out the room and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.
"This ain't easy…"
Alone, he muttered, "Maybe we grease the right palms inside Zhao Dong's company, back their U.S. IPO push... then we make our move…"
Even though the storm in the media calmed down, Zhao Dong was still under heavy fire. The league didn't test him specifically, so the questions still flew—was he on something or not?
And Karl Malone's agent, Manley, just couldn't let it go. For the third time, he popped up again in the press.
"Look, I genuinely believe Zhao Dong's been juicing for a long time. If he was always this physically elite, how come he wasn't picked earlier? Why wasn't he a freak when he first hit the league? I think it's 'cause he's been using banned substances for years."
Some media outlets and fans started echoing that same take.
"Boss…"
Zhao Dong was chillin' at the hotel when he got a call from Wang Xin, GM of Julong Venture Capital.
Wang gave him the update on some big recent moves—including a heavy investment in a startup.
This company, started in February, had just closed its first round of funding, and Julong came in strong—snatching up 45% of the shares, complete with voting rights and top-tier financing privileges.
Zhao Dong had already discussed it with Lindsay. They planned to double down on domestic internet startups through Storm Investment Fund to build serious influence across future tech giants.
He hadn't forgotten about this one dude—Jack Ma—who was already plotting out something called "Asian Yellow Pages." That site was set to launch next March, but money was tight. The real first big bag would come later next year.
People always said Masayoshi Son saved Jack Ma, but truth be told, the first one to help him out was Xia Ru Lin—Goldman Sachs' Asia boss at the time.
Lin was tight with Cai Chongxin, who would ditch his million-dollar salary next year to join Jack Ma's squad full-time.
Lin connected with Jack, vibed with his vision, and convinced Goldman Sachs to throw in some serious cash.
Ma only wanted to give up 10% of his company for $5 mil. But Goldman pushed hard—they gave the money, but ended up getting 50% of the company. Still, Ma kept the voting rights and priority funding rights for himself. Later on, Goldman regretted that hard, since their shares got diluted over time.
Now Zhao Dong was thinkin'.
"Time to send someone to link up with Jack Ma. I'll throw him $10 million next year—see what kind of equity that gets me."
His strategy for Alibaba was simple: invest early, lock in voting power and priority rights. He didn't mind paying a premium or taking a short-term L.
Hell, if $10 mil ain't enough, he'd throw $20 mil at it—just to get Ma hooked on that easy money. After all, this was the same dude who'd say '996 is a blessing' in the future. Might as well play the long game.
At the same time, Storm Investment decided to jump in too, trying to stack the pot and make Lao Ma take a quiet L.
In this world, there ain't too many businessmen who don't fold when the money's right—especially the young bloods still tryna build something from scratch.
Back in his past life, Zhao Dong remembered how Xiao Ma almost sold off QQ during the dot-com crash in 2000. Dude was broke, drowning in debt, and practically begged Guangdong Telecom to take it off his hands. He was asking for just a mil in RMB, but they only wanted to throw him 600K. Deal fell through, and man had to hustle just to keep QQ alive—nearly sold his blood to stay afloat.
Real talk, if you threw a couple million at Xiao Ma back then, you probably could've bought his life.
That same evening, Ringo Wells said flew into Cleveland, sat down with Zhao Dong, and got right into it.
"Zhao Dong, what's your stance on the urine test?" he asked straight up.
Zhao Dong already knew where this was going. Wells was clearly worried about the drug accusations. If Zhao Dong failed the test, things would blow up. But if he refused the test, the media would never let it go.
"I ain't takin' no solo piss test. That's straight-up racial discrimination," he said, dead serious.
"What do you mean by that?" Wells leaned in.
He caught something in Zhao Dong's tone. Dude wasn't even worried about the test—that actually brought him some relief.
"Just get my message across. I don't care how the league handles it. But if I'm getting tested, then all them dudes pointing fingers better be lined up next to me too," Zhao Dong said coldly.
Wells nodded and immediately went to talk to Ernie Grunfeld.
An hour later, after the sun dipped, the Knicks held a press conference.
At the mic, Grunfeld laid it out: if the media forced Zhao Dong to take a solo test, it was nothing but discrimination.
If people think he's juicing, then the league can do a test—but it better be fair and square.
Some media outlets backed this stance. Others kept throwing shade. Public opinion split fast, but Zhao Dong's pressure started easing up.
Later that night, Stern huddled with his senior VPs and made a call.
Next day was the 3G showdown.
At 9 a.m., the league dropped the news: random drug tests were being rolled out for playoff players—and Zhao Dong was on the list.
Stern and his crew made it clear behind closed doors: no matter the results, they were gonna "pass."
The testers flew out to different cities early in the morning. Preliminary results were set to drop before tip-off that night.
Around noon, the league dropped its regular season awards—stat champs, DPOY, Rookie of the Year, and All-Rookie teams.
Zhao Dong bagged two major trophies: Defensive Player of the Year and Scoring Champ for the '97–'98 season.
Only a handful of dudes ever grabbed both in the same year. That's the definition of two-way domination.
Matter of fact, there's only been one before him—Michael Jordan in the '87–'88 season, when he averaged 35 and locked up the DPOY.
Now there's another name on that elite list: Zhao Dong.
Tim Duncan walked away with Rookie of the Year, no debate there. He also made All-Rookie First Team.
Zhao Dong earned 5 skill points for the DPOY nod. Add that to the 1 point he had saved, and he was sitting on 6.
He dropped all 6 into his defense, bumping his 90-rated interior D up to 93.
"Shawn Kemp."
At 3 p.m., three testers showed up at the Cavaliers' training facility. Shawn was picked.
"Yo, I told y'all, I don't mess with this Manley setup! I can't pee with dudes watchin' me like that. Makes me freeze up," Kemp whined, his voice damn near cracking.
"Come in," said one of the testers, holding the bathroom door open.
To be honest, Kemp was sweatin' bullets. He knew he was cooked. Dude had just taken a hit two hours earlier. No way he was gonna pass.
"I… I… I can't pee!" he stammered after struggling with the test tube for what felt like forever, face pale as hell.
The testers didn't blink. They watched him like hawks—eyes locked on him the whole time.
One leaned forward and said, "Need some water?"
"No, man, I already downed ten bottles," Kemp said quickly.
"Then drink ten more," the dude replied.
Shawn Kemp was straight-up miserable.
Five minutes later, bladder damn near exploding, he finally let loose. The tube almost overflowed.
"Ain't no way he's passing that test," one of the testers said after they walked out.
"He looked shook, man."
"Bet you anything he was on somethin'," another one said.
Meanwhile, back at the Knicks' hotel, three more testers took Zhao Dong's sample.
Alongside Zhao Dong and Kemp, Scottie Pippen from the Suns also got tested, along with a few other players who'd stood up for Zhao Dong earlier.
All in all, sixteen players got tested—one from each playoff squad.
At 6 p.m., the league dropped the prelim results: all clear.
Media couldn't say much after that. If they kept stirring the pot, it might backfire. Zhao Dong might be clean—but someone else? Maybe not. And that ain't the drama they wanted.
So just like that, the whole thing faded away.
As soon as he got the news, Shawn Kemp's nerves finally relaxed. He felt like he was about to collapse.
"Alright, everybody listen up!"
At 7 PM, once they stepped into the visitor locker room, Zhao Dong clapped his hands and addressed his squad.
"Y'all better remember that drug test situation. That whole thing's a setup—straight-up targeting me and the Knicks. So tonight, we respond with a blowout. We're gonna tear the Cavs apart!"
"Blow up the Cavs!"
A thunderous roar shook the visiting locker room.
The media outside were dying to get a glimpse, itching to rush in.
The game was being broadcast live on both CCTV and NBC.
On CCTV, Zhang Heli looked anxious on the broadcast.
"Zhao Dong's pushing himself too hard. What if the injury opens back up?"
"Yeah…" Sun Zhenping nodded repeatedly.
Zhang Heli added, "From yesterday to now, Zhao Dong's return has stirred up the whole league. Players, coaches, even the media are reacting. And back home… well, we won't get into that. But if he wants to be a star in the NBA, his path's gonna be rough."
"Right. At first, he was the only one asked to take that test. If he just accepted it, they'd walk all over him from now on," Sun Zhenping said.
At 8 o'clock, players hit the floor, and the starting lineups were announced.
Knicks: Ben Wallace, Zhao Dong, Charles Oakley, Allan Houston, Chauncey Billups.
Cavaliers: Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Shawn Kemp, Henderson, Chuck Person, Brevin Knight.
In the silent tunnel, footsteps echoed. Zhao Dong led his crew out of the locker room.
He quickly popped open the system menu, checking for any new missions.
Last season, the system had given him tasks every playoff series. But this season? Radio silence. No playoff missions so far.
But now, as the screen loaded up, a grin crept onto his face.
Dominance-Level Sniper Mission:
Show your dominance in the next two games. Reward: 1 Dominance Fragment.
The mission was light, and even if he completed it, the reward wouldn't activate right away. Still, he was hyped. He only had one dominance fragment right now, and this was his first chance in a while.
As both teams lined up, Zhao Dong led the Knicks starters out. The moment the Cavs five, including Kemp, saw him, you could see it—undeniable fear in their eyes.
"Yo Kemp, why you look so beat up? Some chick rough you up last night? You good? Should I call the cops for you?" Zhao Dong taunted coldly.
Pfft!
Laughter broke out instantly—even Big Z couldn't hold it in.
Even though Kemp played a bruising style and had a quick temper, when it came to Zhao Dong? Nah, he wasn't about that smoke.
It wasn't just about Zhao Dong dropping Karl Malone anymore. The real legend was this dude getting shot twice—and still taking out armed thugs. Killed one too.
Zhao Dong was a killer, literally. No one wanted to mess with him.
Kemp just looked down, silent.
"Tch, what a clown," Zhao Dong muttered, losing interest.
As the Knicks walked out onto the court, the crowd greeted them with loud boos.
"We're gonna shut 'em up real quick!" Zhao Dong yelled to his team.
"Yeah!"
The rest of the starting five shouted back.
Ten minutes later, the game tipped off. Big Z won the jump, and Cleveland got the first possession.
"Yo, hand me the damn ball already!" Zhao Dong barked at Kemp. "What's up, you just like Karl Malone now? Catching lobs and can't dribble worth a damn?"
"I'm calling for the rock! I'm gonna dunk on you!" Kemp shot back, but even his trash talk felt weak. Truth was, his handle just wasn't there.
Zhao Dong let out a cold chuckle. "You're supposed to be Amare's template, right? Then where's your ISO game at?"
He purposely backed off, daring Kemp to take the bait.
Kemp didn't hesitate. He cut inside, got the ball, and went airborne.
"I'mma smash this rim to pieces!"
With one massive stride, Kemp launched up, ball cocked back, aiming to crush it.
"Poster incoming!"
The crowd rose with him. Everyone in the arena braced for the highlight slam.
But…
BANG!
Zhao Dong came flying in from behind, full stride, and smashed Kemp's dunk right out of the air—sent that thing flying into the rafters.
"OOOH!"
The whole arena gasped.
Zhao Dong landed, snatched the ball from midair, and kicked off the Knicks' fast break.
"Yo, is Zhao Dong even human? That bullet wound really healed already?" Marv Albert said in shock on NBC broadcast.
"He's not Iron Man for nothing. Dude's a beast. The way his body recovers, it's like something outta a comic book," Matt Goukas laughed.
"If he's anywhere close to 80%—hell, even 70%—the Cavs don't stand a chance," Marv added.
Back in the backcourt, Zhao Dong dished it to Billups, who pushed it up and reset from the left wing.
Billups gave a pull-away signal. Now it was just Zhao Dong on the strong side. Billups stood up top, Ben Wallace stayed under the rim (since he couldn't stretch the floor), and the other two Knicks spread out on the weak side.
This was prime-time isolation—Jordan-style. The same tactic that once made the league rewrite the damn rulebook.
But now? With the league plotting rule changes just for him, Zhao Dong wasn't holding back.
Tonight, he was gonna go full-on ISO and blow Cleveland to pieces.
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