Lindsay leaned forward, her voice calm but firm. "We've agreed that Storm's investment threshold needs to be raised. Moving forward, we're getting into industries that require long-term capital. There won't be any fast cashouts or sudden surges in profit. We need a more stable, long-term source of funds—no more investors chasing quick wins."
She paused, letting her words sink in.
"We're going to re-evaluate every single investor. Our goal isn't just making money—it's influence. We want to reshape the real economy. Our long-term vision is to build a world-class investment bank, one that stands at the top of the global financial pyramid."
"A top investment bank?"
Mrs. Dolores straightened in her chair, eyes gleaming with understanding. "In that case, we should focus on attracting large financial institutions. They're not in it for the short term. We should also seek out national funds, get aligned with state interests, and expand from there."
"Exactly," Zhao Dong nodded. "That'll help us build a broader web of influence. Storm has become massive. Every move we make now draws Wall Street's attention. We need to build relationships from politics to business—hell, even the military. If we don't, we're just fresh meat waiting to get carved up."
He continued, his tone sharper, more ambitious. "We'll dissolve the old fund, phase out the outdated capital, and introduce new investors aligned with our goals. We're not shrinking—we're scaling. The plan is to establish 36 different funds under Storm, each with a holding capacity of $10 billion. Altogether, we're looking at a total size between $300 billion and $400 billion."
Lindsay chimed in, "We're syncing this with our shift from long to short positions. Madam, Europe needs to step up. I'll allocate $100 billion to Europe."
"That's more than enough," Madam Dolores said with satisfaction. "With that kind of capital, we can build personal relationships all over Europe. At least twenty top-tier financial groups will want in. Through them, we'll access national funds. And I believe those sovereign funds will be eager to partner with Storm."
Zhao Dong nodded. "We're based on Wall Street, so we have to bring in American capital, too. If we keep rejecting U.S. funds, we'll be pushed out. We're planning to raise $50 to $80 billion domestically to build local ties."
"Right," Madam Dolores agreed. "We can't keep shutting them out. That won't fly anymore."
What many didn't know was that the real reason Zhao Dong and Lindsay pushed for the large dividend payout was to fuel their long-term industrial plans. Out of the $160 billion to be distributed, the two of them would personally receive nearly $30 billion. That money would quietly be funneled back into China and invested in domestic industries.
Their funds had originally flowed in from Europe, entering the U.S. through Swiss accounts. Because of that, their capital wasn't subject to strict financial regulations and could exit again just as easily—via Swiss banks.
Another reason for this capital shift was the recent national investment. Months ago, China had placed $2 billion in foreign exchange reserves into the Storm Fund. The returns had been insane. Now, the government was looking to increase its stake.
In truth, the "national funds" Madam Dolores had just mentioned had already begun trickling in. The scale just wasn't large—yet.
After everything was laid out, Zhao Dong let out a quiet sigh.
"These past two years, the U.S. financial market has been like a nationwide carnival. Hot money from every corner of the globe has poured into Wall Street. Americans didn't even have to work—money just landed in their pockets. The market value of U.S. stocks has ballooned several times over. But after next year…"
"Baobao's made a killing going long in the futures market," Lindsay said with a grin. "Next year, we flip the script. Time to short and rake in even more."
The three shared a laugh, the kind of laughter only people at the top of the food chain could afford.
---
NBA Playoff Update – May 15th, 1996
On the court, the war continued.
That night, the Bulls, Lakers, and Spurs took care of business and closed out their first-round matchups, joining the Knicks in the second round. The other series were still locked in tight battles, heading into Game 5s.
By the 16th, the first round wrapped up completely.
Second Round Matchups:
Eastern Conference:
New York Knicks vs. 76ers
Chicago Bulls vs. Miami Heat
Western Conference:
San Antonio Spurs vs. Phoenix Suns
Los Angeles Lakers vs. Portland Trail Blazers
The second round tipped off on the 17th.
In the East, the Knicks were set to host the 76ers at Madison Square Garden. Over in the West, the Spurs would face the Suns.
That morning, ESPN's top columnist, published a spicy new column.
"Zhao Dong and Karl Malone are about to go head-to-head again. The Email Duo is averaging 61 points per game and just steamrolled through Round 1. But let's be real: Zhao Dong's always had Malone's number.
If the Mailman can finally break that curse, then Philly's got a real shot at knocking out the Knicks. But if Zhao Dong shuts him down again? It might be time for Philly to break up the Email Duo.
If Malone can't deliver when it counts, then what's the point? You can't build a championship team around a guy who folds every time he sees his kryptonite."
The article went viral within hours.
By the time the Philadelphia 76ers landed in New York that afternoon, Karl Malone had already read it.
He didn't say a word. But his silence said plenty.
The fire in his chest had been smoldering for years—ever since Zhao Dong showed up and stole his spotlight. Two Finals losses. Two Finals nightmares. And a label he couldn't shake: "Zhao Dong's punching bag."
This series was his last shot at redemption.
If he couldn't prove himself now, if he couldn't beat the label this time…
Would Philly trade him?
Would his career get written off?
Of course, Iverson saw the article too. But unlike Karl Malone, he didn't take it too seriously. After all, the media wasn't coming after him.
After grinding through a shortened season and intense training, both he and the rest of the 76ers, especially the Malone-Iverson duo, had taken their game to a whole new level. That improvement showed when they swept through their first-round opponents in dominant fashion.
The Malone-Iverson combo was averaging a combined 61 points per game, and Malone himself was dropping 34 a night. It was elite-level stuff.
That kind of performance gave them hope. They believed they could take down the Knicks. Take down Zhao Dong. Advance to the Eastern Conference Finals.
After checking into their hotel, Philly management arranged a press conference. It was broadcast live across the country by NBC, the network airing tonight's playoff matchup.
A reporter raised the question everyone was waiting to ask:
"Karl, what do you think about Bill Simon's article? Do you agree that you're Zhao Dong's natural nemesis?"
"Man, that's straight-up nonsense!"
Karl Malone's voice thundered as he shut the reporter down. "I don't buy into all that idealistic crap."
"But according to the data between you and Zhao Dong," the reporter pressed, "you're 1–3 against him in the regular season and 2–8 in the playoffs. And statistically, he's been dominating you on both ends. So how do you explain that and convince us the numbers don't tell the full story?"
The veins on Malone's forehead bulged. For a moment, people watching probably thought he was about to explode.
He took a deep breath and barked, "Look, in the last two years, I at least made the Finals. Jordan? He got knocked out by Zhao Dong both times in the Eastern Conference Finals. So, what, does that make Jordan his natural counter too?"
---
In Chicago…
Michael Jordan was watching the live broadcast from his home. When he heard Karl's comment, his eyes went cold.
"You son of a b**, dragging me into this? I hope you get swept by Zhao Dong in the second round, you damn mailman!" he snapped, slamming the remote down.
---
Meanwhile, in New York…
Zhao Dong had just finished a light lunch and was lounging on the sofa when he caught the press conference on TV.
He burst out laughing.
Lindsay walked into the room holding his gym bag, eyebrows raised. "What's so funny?"
"Ah, nothing," Zhao Dong chuckled as he stood up. "That dumb mailman is still trying to act tough. Not only does he want to be my stepping stone, but now he's trying to drag Jordan down with him."
He turned off the TV and grabbed the bag from Lindsay.
"Let's go. I'm heading to the training facility."
As they walked toward the door, Lindsay added, "By the way, things in Hong Kong are moving along. The plan for Pingguo Daily's listing is almost finalized. We'll be using Paramount Publishing as the shell company. They'll acquire Pingguo and a few other Chinese websites, then change their name to Next Media. We're expecting to raise around HK$126 million through the IPO."
Zhao Dong raised his eyebrows. "That's the scale we're looking at?"
Lindsay smirked. "It's just a regional media company. It's not going to shake up the world."
"So, what's your next move?"
"I've already had Storm Fund reach out to that guy named Lai. I set up a Quantum Investment Fund in Hong Kong. If we can bait him in, we'll feed him a few sweet deals first. Once he's on the hook, there'll be plenty of ways to crush him."
Zhao Dong nodded with a grin. "And the listing?"
"Storm Fund is trying to get him to let us handle it. With our Wall Street status? There's no way he turns that down."
She rolled her eyes. "When our people talked to him, the guy wagged his tail like a little puppy."
After that, the couple went their separate ways—Zhao Dong to the training facility, Lindsay back to Storm Fund HQ.
---
Elsewhere in New York…
Zhang Guorong and Mei Yanfang were at one of the city's top private hospitals. They were undergoing full-body checkups arranged by Zhao Dong's team. The two singers were confused but didn't object.
"Maybe Zhao Dong's just super health-conscious," Zhang said, shrugging. "Didn't he get Yao Ming checked out yesterday too? Seems like he cares."
Mei nodded. "Yeah… I've been feeling off lately anyway. Good timing."
---
Later that day…
At 4 PM, the league officially announced the regular season awards.
Zhao Dong secured the Scoring Title.
But Defensive Player of the Year? That went to Alonzo Mourning.
Rebounding leader was Chris Webber, pulling down 13 boards per game.
Danny Fortson, from the Knicks, came close with 12.9 per game, despite sharing minutes with Kevin Willis. He only played 29 minutes a night, splitting the load in New York's deep frontcourt.
Jason Kidd claimed the Assist Title, dishing out 11.2 assists per game.
Blocks leader? Also Mourning, with an impressive 3.9 swats per game.
Steals leader was Kendall Gill, with 2.7 per game.
The Rookie of the Year was no surprise—Vince Carter, the league's most electrifying dunker. Already one of the five most talked-about players in the league, Carter also made the All-Rookie First Team.
Coach of the Year went to Don Nelson. The Knicks had the best record in the league by a wide margin. No one even questioned it.
---
Meanwhile, in Hong Kong…
At 2 AM, Lai Ziying was still grinding in his office.
In the past few days, people from Storm Fund had approached him. They pitched two ideas—first, that they would underwrite his company's upcoming IPO; second, that he invest in their newly formed Quantum Fund.
Storm Fund, straight out of Wall Street, was a behemoth managing hundreds of billions. To someone like Lai, who was always looking for a way to climb higher, these guys were gods.
The moment the foreign reps from Storm expressed interest in him, he was so thrilled he practically forgot his own name.
He didn't immediately agree, though. Instead, he started researching.
The more he learned, the more excited he became.
Storm Fund was famous for being picky about whose money they accepted. Even Li Ka-shing's fund had been rejected. Only a few elite families in Hong Kong had ever been allowed into their circle.
Why they came to him, he didn't know. But one thing was for sure—he couldn't pass up this opportunity. If he could latch onto this financial giant, his dream of becoming one of Hong Kong's richest men might finally come true.
As soon as Lindsay arrived at Storm Fund headquarters, she received a report from the Hong Kong branch: Li Ziying had approved the first round of funding—$500,000.
"According to the plan, double his profits within one trading day. Make him feel invincible, break that calm front."
She showed no excitement. This scheme posed zero challenge for her. She'd lost ten times that amount without blinking. Her goal was to let Li Ziying taste massive gains at first—make him believe he'd struck gold with Storm Fund. Then, lure him into investing more. By the time he realized the trap, it'd be too late. Even if he didn't go all-in with his fortune, she'd make sure he borrowed heavily and gambled everything... until he had nothing left.
For a financial shark like her, flipping a person's life between heaven and hell was just another day at the office. Once Li Ziying took the bait, it wouldn't take long. From the high of a financial win to the fall from a building—it could all be wrapped up in 24 hours.
---
By the afternoon, Madison Square Garden was already buzzing. Fans swarmed the area, chanting like warriors before battle.
At 6 p.m., the crowd started filing into the arena.
At the same time, the Knicks team bus rolled into the underground parking lot. It took them half an hour just to travel a few hundred meters—the crowd was that intense.
Before tipoff, a few media outlets were allowed into the Knicks' locker room for pregame interviews.
"Zhao Dong, you think you can sweep Philly this time?" a New York Times reporter asked.
Zhao Dong grinned. "You lookin' down on the Sixers that hard?"
The reporter chuckled. "Well, with the new 2-2-1 format in the playoffs this year, it would be sweeter to eliminate them at home. You guys could lock it down in four."
"We'll think about it. Home games bring in millions, and our players get paid more too," Zhao Dong replied.
"Boss! I'm broke—let's play all seven games!" Fordson yelled from across the locker room.
"Shut it, Danny," Zhao Dong laughed. "We're finishing this in five max. I'm not tryna fly to Philly twice in the second round."
The locker room erupted in laughter.
---
Meanwhile, the media entered the visiting team's locker room for their own round of questions.
Yang Yi was on site. He walked up to Allen Iverson and asked, "Iverson, in man-to-man coverage, it's normal to switch between the two and three spots. Ever think about going toe-to-toe with Zhao Dong?"
Iverson raised his chin confidently. "If we're outside, I'll cook him easy. Make him look like a traffic cone."
"In the joint defense though," Yang Yi pressed, "you've struggled when Zhao Dong steps in for help defense. Any plans to handle that?"
"I'm not tellin' you anything," Iverson scoffed and looked away, clearly done with Yang's questions.
Yang Yi didn't bother to linger. He turned to another corner of the locker room and spotted Karl Malone.
"Hey, Karl. If you had a chance to replay that game where you elbowed Zhao Dong in the back of the head... would you do it again?"
That one hit like a firecracker. The locker room went dead silent, and even the reporters around Iverson rushed over, pointing their mics at the Mailman.
Veins popped in Karl Malone's forehead. He glared coldly at Yang Yi. "Chinese reporter?"
"Yes," Yang Yi replied calmly.
Having a star like Zhao Dong in the league gave Chinese media serious confidence. Even against a top-50 all-time great like Malone, Yang didn't hesitate to ask the tough questions.
"Snort." Malone exhaled sharply through his nose, took a breath, then said, "I don't know... maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. When I'm on the court, I don't think about anything else."
"Do you regret it?"
Yang Yi expected to be shut down, like with Iverson, but to his surprise, Malone actually responded.
"No regrets. MJ once said he never looks back, and I'm the same way."
"You've elbowed a lot of guys this season. Jordan missed a week because of you. Doesn't that weigh on your mind at all?"
Yang Yi was going for broke now—asking the kind of question that could get him tossed. Even the other reporters took a step back. They knew that standing too close to Karl Malone after a question like that was asking for trouble.
Malone's nostrils flared. He glared at Yang Yi and finally said, "That's just how I play. Ain't no room for weakness in this league. You ever watch MJ? He elbows too. Same with Zhao Dong—I take more hits from him than I give out."
"Pfft—"
The whole locker room burst into laughter at that one.
---
Back in Hong Kong, in a quiet clinic, the results of Mei Yanfang's test had just come in.
"This is a hereditary issue," said Dr. Hawke. "Thankfully, there's no sign of cancer at the moment. But you must immediately cut down on your workload and begin treatment."
Mei Yanfang sat across from him, eyes blank, her mind a mess. It felt like the sky had fallen.
"It's okay, A-Mei. There's still time. We'll get treatment in the U.S.," said Zhang Guorong gently, holding her hand tightly.
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