At the end of the game, Matt Goukas made his final analysis on the NBC broadcast:
"The Email combo dropped 55 points combined tonight. That's a solid outing. But here's the thing—the Knicks switched to zone defense, and it just didn't work as well as Zhao Dong locking up Karl Malone one-on-one. The Mailman got his buckets today, way more than he usually does when Zhao Dong is guarding him."
"Iverson only got to the rim on 12% of his shots tonight—way down from his regular season average of 24%. Still, his perimeter shooting held up and he outscored his usual average. As for Malone, he barely got any clean looks at the basket. His inside scoring and efficiency dropped off hard compared to the regular season."
"Both Zhao Dong and Fordson played a huge role in that. Even though some of it relied on hard physical switches, they managed to make it tough for Malone."
"Zhao Dong himself? He was even better than usual, despite logging fewer minutes than his regular season average. The playoffs are where superstars shine—and tonight, this was a straight-up superstar duel. The Knicks came out on top because Zhao Dong won that duel."
"This was a battle of efficiency," Marv Albert added. "The Email duo went 20-of-45 from the field—44.4%. They hit 13 of 16 free throws and added a couple of threes for 55 points."
"Meanwhile, Zhao Dong took 28 shots and scored 49. That's only six points shy of the entire Email crew—and it shows just how damn efficient and scary he is."
Later, Zhao Dong was interviewed courtside.
"Zhao Dong, you barely attacked the rim tonight. Was it because Karl Malone and Theo Ratliff made it too tough?" a Philly reporter asked.
Zhao Dong cracked a half-smile.
"Yeah, they locked the paint down so tight, my field goal percentage dropped to a miserable 70%. Had a rough time out there."
That drew laughter from the New York media.
The Philadelphia reporter frowned, pressing again:
"You only guarded Karl Malone early on, then switched off and let your teammates handle him. He still scored 23. Were you avoiding him? Scared?"
Zhao Dong scoffed.
"Stupid question," he shot back. "Go ask Malone how scared I was."
The Philly reporter clenched his jaw but stayed quiet.
Zhao Dong pointed at his chest and added,
"Let me tell you something, Mr. Reporter—this is a second-round series. If I say we're sweeping Philly, then we're sweeping Philly. Period."
"You?" the reporter snapped, face turning red with frustration.
But Zhao Dong didn't need to respond again. His dominance had already answered for him.
—
Back in the Knicks locker room, Zhao Dong beat Coach Nelson to the punch with some praise of his own.
"Danny, you balled out tonight," he said, nodding at Fordson and Wang Zhizhi. "You might not have shut down Karl Malone completely, but you made him work, and that's huge."
Fordson especially had a solid night—defending the Mailman, grabbing boards, and even contributing on offense. In 16 minutes, he shot 3-of-6, nailed both his free throws, and put up 8 points, 4 rebounds, an assist, and a block. Super efficient.
At that moment, Thibodeau walked over, giving an update from the West:
"Zhao Dong, the Spurs stomped the Suns. Tim Duncan dropped 32 on 73% shooting, and his overall percentage hit 55%—way up from the regular season. David Robinson added 25. They combined for 57 points, 27 boards, and 7 blocks."
Zhao Dong nodded seriously.
"Yeah, San Antonio's Twin Towers are no joke. Honestly, they're more dangerous than the Lakers. Shaq can't hold them down by himself."
Nelson chimed in,
"So you think our Finals opponent might be the Spurs?"
"Not necessarily," Zhao Dong replied. "Don't count the Lakers out. Even though Shaq's got no help in the paint, the Lakers' perimeter game is dangerous. They could put real pressure on San Antonio's interior defense. I'd say it's a 50-50 matchup."
Thibodeau agreed.
"Kobe's been averaging 24 in the playoffs so far—and he's just a rookie. Plus, Glen Rice is giving them over 20 a night too. Their perimeter game's better than ours right now."
Thibodeau added,
"Three guys averaging 20+—Kobe, Rice, and Shaq. That's a scary Big Three."
An hour later, a wave of reporters flooded the locker room. Zhao Dong and Charles Barkley headed to the press conference podium.
"Zhao Dong, what did you think of the Email duo tonight?" a reporter asked.
Zhao Dong answered without hesitation.
"With how they played tonight? They could go toe-to-toe with teams like the Bulls, Spurs, even the Lakers. Maybe even win."
Gasps filled the room.
"So you think if Philly made the Finals, they'd have a real shot at the title?" another reporter asked.
"Yeah," Zhao Dong nodded. "But unless they move out West and join the Western Conference, they're not even getting close to the Finals."
He leaned forward and continued:
"Let's be real—they're not even making it past us to the Eastern Conference Finals. Not happening. They don't have the juice."
"Why are you so confident about sweeping Philly?" someone asked.
Zhao Dong explained,
"Philly's interior defense is strong, no doubt. But I don't need to live at the rim to be efficient. I can stretch the floor. They can't. Their bigs can't give them that kind of scoring punch inside. That's the difference. That's why we, the Knicks, are confident we're ending this thing before it even gets close."
"Do you agree that you're the Mailman's nemesis?" a reporter asked with a grin, mic in hand.
"Of course," Zhao Dong replied coolly, flashing a confident smile.
"So, what are the Knicks' chances of beating the Spurs, Lakers, and Bulls? From a matchup perspective, do you think your roster can restrain those three squads?"
Zhao Dong paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Playing the Lakers is probably the toughest. It's hard to contain the big fella, Shaq. The Spurs are similar, super strong in the paint. But if we're talking lineup advantage, we actually match up better against the Bulls. Their interior offense isn't as dangerous. Oakley and Rasheed are solid, but they don't have that low-post, back-down dominance."
"You're saying the Bulls, who've met you in the Eastern Conference Finals two years straight, are gonna lose again?" the reporter asked, a little surprised.
"Definitely. This era belongs to the paint. Jordan's still elite, but he's not getting younger, and the Bulls still haven't landed a dominant big. Last season, Nike gave them a push, but I doubt they'll help again this year." Zhao Dong smirked.
Laughter echoed around the press room.
"Charles, how confident are you about winning the championship now?" another reporter called out.
"Whew!" Barkley let out a sigh, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. "Finally! Someone sees me! I thought I was invisible on this team."
That drew even more laughs.
Meanwhile, at the 76ers' press conference, a reporter from the Philadelphia Daily News spoke up.
"Iverson, your team still took a blowout loss, even after Malone dropped 23 points. What's your take on the 'Email' combo's future? And what do you think about the rest of this series?"
Iverson wasn't his usual brash self. He lowered his head, staring at his hands on the table, and spoke with a raspy voice. "It's just Game 1. We still got a shot."
The reporter wasn't satisfied. "But in the regular season, it was a different story. The Knicks were tight on Malone back then. This time they let him breathe, and he still scored well… yet the team still got blown out. What's the real issue here?"
Iverson shook his head. "I'm not the coach. That's not my call."
"Coach Brown, how do you explain another blowout loss?" the reporter pivoted to Larry Brown.
"We weren't physical enough on defense," Brown said, clearly annoyed. "We didn't double Zhao Dong fast enough at the edge of the paint. We knew he was looking to score—he's not a pass-first guy—but we were a step late every time. He ate us alive down there. That was the main reason we lost."
"But coach," the reporter pressed, "there were a few possessions where the double came, and the Knicks' wings cut in off-ball. Zhao Dong found them perfectly. Most of those turned into assists. Isn't it tough to stop that pass-and-cut action?"
Brown didn't hide his frustration. "No defense is perfect. He took 28 shots—27 in the low post—and dropped 49. He's their number one threat. We have to focus everything on him. I don't care if the others get buckets; if he gets hot, it's game over. People get distracted by the assists, but listen—when Zhao Dong is just passing, the Knicks' efficiency actually drops. It's when he goes full attack mode that they're most dangerous. That's what we need to stop."
The reporter nodded. That tracked with how Zhao Dong played.
"So, Coach," the reporter returned to his earlier question, "what do you think of the future of the 'Email' combo? And what about this series?"
Brown rubbed his temple and replied tiredly, "Don't you think that question's a bit premature? Maybe ask me again after the series is over."
"Alright," the reporter backed off, realizing the question could disrupt locker room chemistry.
Both press conferences wrapped up nearly simultaneously. As the Knicks exited their media room, Zhao Dong and Barkley crossed paths with Karl Malone and Iverson in the hallway.
"Karl, I'm getting that ring this year!" Barkley called out, beaming.
"What else do you even do besides ride coattails?" Malone snapped back, face twisted in irritation.
Barkley's temper flared. "Man, I'm a vet! You were the so-called 'core' on your old team, and you still clung to others. Weren't you the one begging to team up with Shaq in L.A.? You invented coattail riding!"
The jab hit home. Malone's face turned red. "That's just media hype. I didn't say that."
"Oh yeah? And now you're hitchin' to a rookie like Iverson? You really got no shame!" Barkley shouted, pointing toward Iverson, who stood silently behind.
"That was a trade. What's it gotta do with me?" Malone argued.
"Cut the crap. No accountability—that's why you always vanish when it matters most," Barkley snapped.
Zhao Dong burst out laughing behind them.
Malone shot a glare at Zhao Dong but held his tongue. Instead, he turned his frustration back on Barkley. "And you're better? In Houston, Dream was the clutch guy while you sat on the injury list. Don't act like the title run had anything to do with you."
"Yo…" Barkley was stunned. His fists clenched, and he lunged toward Malone, ready to brawl.
"You wanna throw hands?" Zhao Dong said with a grin, rolling up his sleeves and stepping in.
That's when all hell almost broke loose. Zhao Dong's personal security, who trailed him everywhere, immediately jumped in to separate the players.
"Don't hit me! I'm not even involved!" Iverson backed away fast.
"Someone stop them!" Knicks management rushed in as the hallway became chaos.
"Good thing we were prepared," Knicks GM Ernie Grunfeld muttered, wiping his forehead.
When Zhao Dong returned home, Lindsay was still awake and waiting for him.
"Honey, you seemed like you knew that singer from Hong Kong was sick. Why'd you suddenly tell the bodyguard to take her for a checkup?" she asked curiously, already informed of the news from their security team.
Zhao Dong gave a light chuckle and poured himself a glass of water. "I'm a fan. Her sister had cervical cancer, and I heard it might be hereditary in their family. I don't know if it's true, but since we're friends now, I figured I'd help her get checked out. No big deal."
"So what now?" Lindsay asked.
"Get her treated. What else?" Zhao Dong shrugged. "This type of illness is treatable. The problem is, she's a workaholic. I'm worried she'll ignore treatment just to keep grinding."
"Can't her family step in and talk her into it?" Lindsay asked, furrowing her brows.
Zhao Dong shook his head with a sneer. "Family? Besides her sister, the rest treat her like an ATM. Her mom and brother are basically her creditors."
Lindsay let out a sigh and didn't press further. Instead, she changed the subject. "By the way, this morning that guy Li made a 120% return on two trades in the Hong Kong market. If this keeps up, he's gonna throw his whole fortune into it."
Zhao Dong smirked. "If you want to ruin a man, first drive him insane with greed… then crush him."
And indeed, Li was already halfway drunk on the thrill of money.
"If it's five million… fifty million… five hundred million… damn!" he muttered to himself, staring at his screen as if it were showing divine revelation. "Storm Fund really is the king of Wall Street. They're gods of this financial game!"
He had never felt this high before. In just one morning, his account had ballooned from $500,000 to $1.1 million. His heartbeat raced. His pockmarked face flushed red like a man with sky-high blood pressure.
"Mr. Li, the market is really hot lately," his Storm Fund broker had said just hours earlier. "You don't get chances like this every day. You're one of the few investors we've handpicked from Hong Kong. We believe in you. We want you to win big and become a success story here."
Those words had hit Li like a shot of pure adrenaline—like he had just gulped down a pound and a half of chicken blood.
Twenty minutes later, his account showed $2.5 million. He dumped in all his remaining cash.
Two hours after that, $2.5 million turned into $6.6 million.
Storm Fund was making money for Li through futures trades on the Hang Seng Index. The fund already owned a huge chunk of the blue-chip component stocks—originally worth around 30 billion Hong Kong dollars. Now that the Hang Seng Index had climbed past 10,000 points, the fund's portfolio had ballooned to over 90 billion. With that kind of control, they could push the index up or down almost at will, creating short-term volatility that Li could exploit with futures trading.
By market close, Li had turned $1.9 million into $4.7 million in a single day.
Later that evening, Storm Fund made their next move.
"Mr. Li," said the same broker over a private call, "since last year's financial crisis, the Hang Seng Index has rebounded several thousand points. But now… we believe a major correction is coming. This is a once-in-20-years opportunity to short-sell. If you play it right, you could earn dozens of times your capital."
Li hesitated. "But I'm kind of stuck for cash right now. My fixed assets and other projects aren't exactly liquid..."
"No problem at all," the broker said smoothly. "We've got a special financing channel lined up just for you. Only 2% interest monthly. It's extremely competitive. We believe in you. You're our guy here in Hong Kong. One day, we want you to be our representative figure—a true tycoon of the region."
Li's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Of course," the broker replied. "By the way, the financing will come from Gangcheng Hengsheng International Company."
Li froze. "Hengsheng? Isn't that run by Zhulian?"
"Yes," the broker confirmed. "They control the largest underground futures market in Hong Kong. They've got mountains of cash. And we've got world-class channels. Together, we can offer you this low interest rate. No bank or fund would touch this kind of high-risk futures trading otherwise."
Li didn't even hesitate anymore.
"I'm in!"
He had already tasted the rush—making in one day what used to take him a decade. He was all in. He wanted more.
Storm Fund immediately helped him arrange the loan. Everything that could be mortgaged was mortgaged: Pingguo, his various tech startups, a handful of websites about to go live, and even his dozen rental apartment buildings.
The total valuation? 140 million Hong Kong dollars.
The loan raised? 500 million Hong Kong dollars.
"Five hundred million… ten times return is five billion… twenty times is ten billion… With Storm Fund behind me, I'll be the richest man in Hong Kong," Li whispered to himself, trembling with excitement.
This was greed in its purest form. He was no longer thinking about risk. All he saw was power, status, and foreign backing. He dreamed of becoming a legend in the financial world—backed by foreign money and towering over his local rivals.
He could already see himself standing proudly, rich beyond measure, flashing smiles at the press, shaking hands with Wall Street giants, and looking down on the Chinese businessmen who once ignored him.
And Storm Fund? They were watching, smiling coldly.
Everything was ready.
All they had to do now…
Was watch him fall.
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