At that moment, a reporter asked again, "Mr. Krause, when you say forward, do you mean Pippen? Are you planning to trade him?"
"Sorry, I meant reinforcement. Pippen is still one of the best small forwards in the league. His position on the team is crucial. He's our playmaker," Jerry Krause replied vaguely, dodging a direct answer.
But he didn't deny the reporter's suggestion either. His words carried an implied confirmation.
Pippen glanced at Jordan, who remained silent, his expression cold and distant. That silence hit Pippen hard.
"Michael, do you think the team needs reinforcement?" a reporter from Los Angeles asked.
"Yeah, I agree with Jerry. We definitely need to strengthen our squad," Jordan nodded.
"Oh!"
The reporters were surprised. They knew how bad the relationship was between Jordan and Krause, but Jordan's response revealed a shift.
"Jordan, according to your bet with Zhao Dong, you need to apologize to him in person. Are you gonna honor it?"
A New York Times reporter hit him with a question that put him on the spot.
The room fell dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Jordan's answer.
Outside the press room, Oakley turned to Zhao Dong.
"What do you think he'll do?" Oakley asked.
"I heard he's a sore loser. When he's down, he keeps dragging people into bets until he wins. That true?" Zhao Dong smirked.
"You just won another million bucks off him. Shouldn't you know?" Ewing chimed in with a chuckle.
Zhao Dong let out a smug laugh. "That guy was generous in the first game. But after losing? Pfft. He stalled, dragged his feet, and made me swing by his place to collect. Shady gambling etiquette, man."
Just as they were about to leave the arena, the Bulls' press conference kicked off. Curious, they decided to stick around for the drama.
Back in the press room, Jordan took a deep breath and said, "You heard what Jerry said. Canceling Zhao Dong's contract had nothing to do with me. So, I don't see why I owe him anything."
"Oh?"
Gasps filled the room.
"See? I called it." Zhao Dong smirked smugly.
He didn't care about Jordan's apologies. Smashing his legacy was the real win. Replacing him as the next basketball god? That was the endgame.
"This guy really can't handle losing," Oakley muttered, shaking his head.
"Jordan, if you didn't agree with the bet, why accept it in the first place?"
"Are you backing out now?"
"Jordan, are you saying you only took the bet for the basketball god title, even if you never intended to honor it?"
Reporters bombarded him with questions, no longer waiting for the mic.
Overwhelmed, Jordan glanced at Krause for backup.
Trying to ease tensions, Krause grabbed the mic.
"When Michael accepted the bet, he and his agent, David Falk, consulted with me. I knew his intent was purely competitive, not about gambling stakes. You can imagine how the league's top dog felt when a rookie called him out.
So, if Zhao Dong still needs someone to blame, I'll take the heat—I was the one who terminated his contract."
"Tch! Bunch of gutless suits," Zhao Dong scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's bounce."
"You're just gonna leave the last million bucks on the table?" Larry Johnson called out.
"Next time we cross paths, I'm collecting with interest," Zhao Dong grinned.
"Zhao Dong, do you accept Krause's apology?" John Starks asked, curious.
"Not a chance. I'm dragging the Bulls through the mud," Zhao Dong sneered.
---
June 1st
News spread like wildfire: the reigning Bulls, led by the NBA's top dog, had failed to reach the Finals. The dynasty was crumbling.
Even though the Bulls had trailed for most of the Eastern Conference Finals, many believed Jordan would pull off a comeback. When reality hit, the world realized the legendary Bulls had truly fallen.
The media drew comparisons between the collapse of the Bulls and the end of the Lakers' Showtime dynasty.
Magic Johnson, who had attended the entire series, gave his take:
"It's hard to swallow, but it's the truth. The Knicks were simply stronger.
I know Jordan played the best series of his career, but the Bulls' lineup had clear weaknesses.
Even with the Jordan Rules in play, they couldn't stop Zhao Dong. His offense,
playmaking, and passing tore them apart. He single-handedly broke the Bulls."
"Do you think the Bulls dynasty is over?" a reporter asked.
Magic smiled wryly. "Every dynasty ends eventually, and the Bulls are no exception.
But make no mistake—Jordan is still the best player in the game. As long as he's in Chicago, they have championship potential. With the right reinforcements, they can bounce back."
Charles Barkley, who had been eliminated by the Jazz, also weighed in:
"I feel bad for Mike. Losing to a rookie is rough.
But I'm not gonna disrespect the Knicks—they took down the Bulls fair and square. They deserve to be in the Finals."
"What do you think of Zhao Dong's performance in the Eastern Conference Finals?" a reporter asked Barkley.
"He reminds me of Magic Johnson. The kid's got game. He beat Jordan, which automatically puts him on my level," Barkley shrugged.
---
At noon, the Knicks flew back to New York.
"The Jazz are already here," Ernie Grunfeld informed the team as they landed.
"They've had two extra days of rest and played one fewer game. They've got the physical edge on us, so we can't let our guard down," Van Gundy warned.
"Take the day off and rest up. We meet at noon tomorrow," Thibodeau reminded the team.
Outside the airport, a massive crowd of New York fans gathered to welcome their team. The convoy stretched over ten kilometers.
Beeep!
The moment the team bus appeared, fans blasted their horns in celebration.
That day, the North American media flooded the news cycle with Finals predictions.
80% of the media favored the Knicks to win it all, while only 20% backed the Jazz—mostly Utah-based outlets.
The New York Times gave its take:
"The Jazz lack playmakers. Karl Malone's game relies heavily on mid-range jumpers, but the Knicks will destroy them in the low post and on the frontline.
Plus, Zhao Dong's playmaking gives the Knicks a major advantage. The Jazz have no answer for him. Even if they try the Jordan Rules, the Bulls already proved it doesn't work."
The New York Sports Daily added:
"Zhao Dong might slide to power forward and take on Karl Malone himself. With his strength and defense, Malone won't be able to throw around his elbows freely. His offense will be stifled.
Once the Jazz lose their primary scoring option, what's left?"
Meanwhile, Salt Lake City Sports Daily fired back:
"The Jazz's pick-and-roll with Stockton and Malone will leave Zhao Dong spinning in circles. He won't even know where the ball is!"
Zhao Dong skimmed the article and snorted.
"Utah media's got the IQ of a brick," he scoffed, tossing the paper aside.
Apart from resting that day, Zhao Dong kept a close eye on the MVP announcement. With the Finals around the corner, he knew no one would care about the award once the championship battle began.
At the NBA headquarters, Stern's office was buzzing with final discussions. The MVP decision couldn't be delayed any longer.
But who should get it? That was the problem.
The media vote ended in a tie—Jordan and Karl Malone each received 32% of the votes.
"How about we just make them co-MVPs?" someone suggested.
Another person disagreed:
"During the All-Star Game, Zhao Dong called out Karl Malone, saying that players who missed too many regular season games shouldn't be eligible.
The New York media's been hyping this take ever since, and the fans are all in.
Honestly, with the tie, I say we give it to Jordan."
"I agree. Karl Malone's rep is trash right now. The dude throws too many elbows and pisses off half the league. Hell, he even clocked Zhao Dong in the back of the head during the season. His image is wrecked—giving him MVP would be a bad look."
"But Jordan already has four MVPs. Plus, he didn't even make the Finals this year," another person argued.
Stern rubbed his temples. Hearing Zhao Dong's name gave him a headache.
The Eastern Conference Finals pulled in huge ratings—19 million viewers per game.
But with Jordan out of the Finals, Stern worried about the viewership tanking.
And the guy who ruined the Bulls' run? Zhao Dong.
Stern was conflicted. On one hand, he saw massive potential in Zhao Dong—a handsome, charismatic playboy with serious on-court skills. If Jordan were retired, Stern would've happily backed him as the league's next face.
But Zhao Dong's bad temper, love for trash talk, and "playboy" rep made Stern hesitant.
And with Jordan still around, playing the best series of his career, Stern wasn't ready to pass the torch just yet.
After a long, pointless debate, everyone eventually looked at Stern, expecting him to decide.
"Give it to...Jordan," Stern said after a brief pause.
---
At 3:00 PM, the league officially announced the season's biggest individual honor:
Michael Jordan was named the 1996-97 NBA MVP—his fifth MVP title.
He also snagged the scoring title that season.
"Man, I just flapped my little wings and changed NBA history," Zhao Dong muttered in his hotel room, shaking his head at the news.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Hello, Zhao Dong speaking."
"Hey, Zhao Dong. It's Thomas..."
"Yeah? What do you wanna know?"
"Do you have any thoughts on Jordan winning MVP?"
"His regular-season stats definitely earned it," Zhao Dong admitted.
"But... he still owes me an apology. So nah, I'm not congratulating him."
---
Shortly after, the league announced the All-NBA First Team and All-Defensive First Team.
Zhao Dong's phone buzzed again—it was Patrick Ewing.
"Patrick, congrats," Zhao Dong greeted him.
"Thanks, man. But honestly, without you joining the squad, we wouldn't have made it this far," Ewing replied, clearly in a good mood.
"Let's keep pushing and bring home that championship," Zhao Dong said with a grin.
"Count on it!" Ewing said, fired up.
After hanging up, Zhao Dong left the hotel.
He headed to Lindsay's house for their dinner date.
---
While they were cooking together, Lindsay casually dropped, "Hey, I'm thinking of selling this place. What do you think?"
Zhao Dong glanced at her, surprised.
"Why?"
"I wanna invest more and need the funds. This place is too flashy for me, anyway," Lindsay chuckled.
"You short on cash?" Zhao Dong asked.
"Of course. You think I'm loaded?" Lindsay smirked.
"Most of my money came from my mom. This house? Mrs. Dolores bought it for me as an investment—it's appreciated about 5% in value over the last six months.
But I'm looking at e-commerce right now. The potential is huge, so I wanna put some money into it. What do you think?"
"E-commerce, huh?" Zhao Dong rubbed his chin.
"That industry's still in its early stages. It'll take years before you see any major returns."
Lindsay shrugged.
"Yeah, it's a slow grind and super risky. No one knows which companies will survive. It's a money-burning game right now."
Zhao Dong's eyes lit up—he thought of Amazon, the book-selling startup founded in 1995.
"How about Apple?" he suggested.
"They've been down bad for over a decade, but they just brought Steve Jobs back this year. Ever thought about investing in them?"
Lindsay shook her head and smiled.
"Even with Jobs back, Apple won't bounce back overnight. It'll take years before they drop a successful product. You'll be sitting on that investment for a while."
She added, "And while I'm into e-commerce, I'm not interested in investing in the companies themselves. The risk is too high and the payback takes forever.
Instead, I'm looking at the supporting industries."
Zhao Dong's eyes narrowed with a flash of insight.
"Logistics."
Lindsay blinked, surprised.
"Logistics?"
Zhao Dong nodded.
"E-commerce can't thrive without it. Reliable shipping and delivery are essential. Logistics is the real money-maker behind the scenes."
Lindsay's eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed.
"What's your plan?" she asked.
"Let's wait a bit," Zhao Dong said with a sly grin.
"We might be able to cash in on the Asian financial crisis. If we strike it big, we'll have plenty of capital."
Lindsay smirked.
"Man, you're cockier than Buffett. You sure you're not a Wall Street shark in disguise?"
Zhao Dong chuckled.
"Hey, if we hit the jackpot, let's open a logistics company right here in New York."
Lindsay smiled and nodded.
"I'm down. But only if you promise not to blow all your cash gambling on foreign exchange."
"Relax," Zhao Dong laughed.
"If I win the championship, I'll be signing a bunch of offseason contracts. A few million dollars will be nothing. We'll have more than enough for the initial investment."
Lindsay suddenly brought up something else.
"Hey, your agent, Ringo Wells, said you're refusing sneaker deals. He asked me to talk some sense into you. What gives?"
Zhao Dong smirked.
"Oh, that? I've got my own plans.
I'm thinking of buying a company with solid tech and building my own sports brand.
I haven't told Ringo yet, so he has no clue."
Lindsay raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously?"
"Yup. China is expanding fast—tons of untapped market potential.
Right now, there's no legit domestic sports brand. The big foreign brands haven't claimed the market yet either. It's a golden opportunity. Why shouldn't I cash in?" Zhao Dong explained.
Lindsay smiled.
"Need a partner?"
Zhao Dong grinned.
"Sure. You wanna help me run it?"
"With pleasure," Lindsay chuckled.
---
Meanwhile, in Chicago, Jordan and Jerry Krause met at a public restaurant.
They deliberately chose a public spot, hoping it would keep their emotions in check.
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