"You're sure it's him?" Javier Stanford leaned in, his voice low as he glanced around the cozy private booth in a popular steakhouse in North Carolina.
Lin Yi cracked a smile. "Yeah. I'm sure."
Just then, the door creaked open.
A man walked in. Skinny—almost painfully so, like he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. His suit was worn thin at the elbows, but the white shirt underneath had been carefully cleaned. His hair color was slightly faded out, face was etched with lines way beyond what you'd expect for someone in their late twenties.
He looked nervous—really nervous. Which made sense. The person sitting across from him was a rising star. Lin Yi. NCAA standout. ESPN's projected top ten first-round picks.
Zhong Muchen could hardly believe it. He had come here with nothing but a resume and a shred of hope. Now he was face to face with the guy everyone in the league was talking about.
To him, Lin Yi's agent had to be some elite-level shark. Someone with a long resume and an office in Manhattan.
Not… him.
Not Zhong Muchen, former DIII benchwarmer, current struggling agent, whose claim to fame was failing to get his two former clients into the NBA. One of them only managed two seasons in Puerto Rico.
He swallowed.
"Zhong Muchen," Lin Yi read from the resume, glancing up with curiosity. "28 years old, agent, passed the license exam after retiring from playing… let's see… once almost signed Darren Collison, but things went south."
Lin raised an eyebrow. "He said you tried to frame him with weed?"
Zhong clenched his fists. "That's not what happened."
Lin leaned back, motioning for him to continue.
"He got caught with it. The cops showed up. He begged me to take the fall so it wouldn't hurt his career. I… I agreed. I was ready to do it. But he dropped me the next day and signed with someone else."
Lin nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
Zhong dropped his gaze. "Look, if this was just to mess with me, fine. I get it. A guy like me doesn't belong in this world. I'll go."
He stood.
"Wait," Lin said.
Zhong froze.
"You brought a contract, right?"
Zhong blinked. "What?"
"You're my agent now. Sign it."
Zhong stared. "I—I'm what?"
Lin tapped the table. "You heard me."
This had to be a dream.
"Look," Lin said, "it's not just because you're Chinese. It's because I know you won't stab me in the back. That guy in the photo?" He jabbed a finger at a wrinkled photo of a white player who'd once mocked Zhong's former client. "You went after him. You took a hit for someone else. That matters more to me than some suit with a list of All-Star clients."
Lin leaned forward. "Besides, I don't want a big-name agent. I'm building my team. Javier's my media guy. I've got the narrative. What I need now is a hungry dog. Someone with nothing to lose and everything to prove."
Zhong couldn't speak. He fumbled into his briefcase, pulling out two pristine contracts. Lin reviewed them and then passed them on to Javier's lawyer friend who came along.
One hour later
"No issues." replied the lawyer after the review.
Lin nodded and signed both.
Zhong looked at the papers in disbelief.
"I…" he stammered. "Thank you. Really."
Lin handed him an envelope. "There's ten grand in there. Get yourself a real suit. And food. You look like a damn refugee."
Zhong laughed, a strange mix of shock and gratitude.
"Javier's going to release the news soon. NBA teams will come knocking. Your job's simple—talk to them, get the offers, don't say yes to anything. Not yet."
Zhong nodded quickly. "Got it. Got it."
After he left, Javier stared at Lin. "You sure about this guy?"
Lin shrugged. "You said you wanted to shake up the NBA, right?"
Javier hesitated. Lin sounded so… certain.
"If you had the chance," Lin said, smiling, "wouldn't you go for it?"
Javier didn't answer. He didn't need to. Lin Yi was already moving on to the next step of his plan.