Maybe it was fate. Davidson Wildcats drew Butler University—coached by Vincent, one of McKillop's old college buddies—in the first round of the Southern League playoffs.
When the bracket was revealed, Vincent nearly fainted.
"Seriously? This damn guy again? This old troll just won't go away!"
Back in the locker room, Coach McKillop grinned at his players. "No mercy out there. Smash 'em."
Lin Yi and Steph gave each other a look. Both of them trading raised eyebrows. Thirty years of friendship, and McKillop was ready to destroy his old buddy without blinking.
There was never really any suspense. The Wildcats were on fire this year—and no way they were getting knocked out in round one.
Coach Vincent was practically grinding his teeth into dust. "Tch. I heard Lin got himself an agent now. Just wait… when both of your players hit the NBA, I'm gonna find you and get some payback."
Final score: 86 to 59. Wildcats fans roared as their team cruised into the next round.
Steph Curry clocked out ten minutes early, casually dropping 25 points and 9 assists like it was nothing.
Lin Yi? Put up 20 points, 8 boards, 4 blocks, 5 assists, and a steal.
But the busiest man in the arena wasn't on the court.
It was Zhong Muchen—Lin Yi's shiny new agent. Ever since Javier Stanford broke the news that Lin Yi had signed with a rep, the American basketball world had exploded with curiosity.
NBA execs were all thinking the same thing in their minds.
"Who the hell is this Zhong guy?"
Back at the court, scouts were making themselves known to Zhong Michen.
"Mr. Zhong, congrats!"
"Yeah, Lin's the real deal, huh?"
"He's gonna tear it up in March Madness, no doubt!"
Surrounded by praise and business cards, Zhong tried to play it cool—but his heart was doing somersaults.
A bald scout stepped forward and asked for a one-on-one which Zhong agreed.
"Mr. Zhong, I'm Amond from the Oklahoma City Thunder. Our GM, Sam Presti, is very interested in Lin. He'd love to sit down and talk about Lin's development before March Madness kicks off."
Zhong stood a little taller. He knew Lin had thrown him a lifeline—but now it was up to him to act the part.
"Oh? Got it." He tried to keep his voice calm like he wasn't losing his mind inside. "I'll check Lin's schedule."
Amond blinked. That wasn't the response he'd expected.
"Mr. Presti is really interested," he added, hoping to push the door open.
Zhong nodded coolly. "Of course. We'll be in touch."
Amond had no choice but to back off and schedule a proper meeting.
Zhong might've been new, but he wasn't dumb. Amond was just a scout. Presti was the prize.
Right as he exhaled, another guy was already approaching.
"Mr. Zhong, I'm Barbosa, scout for the Phoenix Suns. Our GM—Mr. Steve Kerr—wants a word with you about Lin."
Steve Kerr?
Zhong nearly choked on his breath. Steve Kerr. MJ's old teammate. A Bulls dynasty legend. Now running the Suns.
Zhong forced a smile. "Sure, happy to talk."
And then the floodgates opened.
"Hi, Clippers scout. Our GM—"
.
.
.
Zhong's head was spinning. Was Lin Yi really this hot?
Apparently, yes.
.....
Later that night, Lin Yi got the full report.
He didn't even flinch.
"This is normal," he said, casually sipping water. "All these teams want a top pick. That Blake Griffin game? It made waves."
And he was right. The entire country had seen his showdown with Griffin on ESPN replays. Add in the fact that Yao Ming was carrying Houston solo this season, and the Chinese market looked like a goldmine again.
Especially for a seven-footer who played like a guard.
The draft order wasn't set yet. Nobody knew who was getting the No.1 pick—but everybody wanted Lin Yi to remember their name.
Because before the draft comes one crucial step: the workouts.
There's a saying in NBA front offices—don't fall in love at first sight. That's why the Knicks got cold feet on Steph back in the day. He didn't work out for them, so they passed. The Warriors didn't.
Lin Yi looked at Zhong. "Set the meetings for next week—after regionals."
"Got it," Zhong said. "I told them we won't make any promises. Just that everything goes through you."
"Perfect. Oh—any brands reach out yet?"
Zhong lit up. "Adidas and Nike already called. And some domestic brands too—Peak, Anta… Puma's sniffing around as well."
Lin grinned. "Don't commit to anything. Let March Madness play out. Then we drop that promo with Sports Weekly and Qi Jun's documentary. Once my value spikes, that's when we talk money."
Zhong nodded like a man given the keys to the kingdom. That documentary—"The 7-Foot Point Centre from Davidson"—was already building buzz in China.
After the 2008 Beijing Olympics, basketball had exploded back home. Too bad Yao's injuries had capped his season. Still, the stage was set.
Zhong exhaled slowly. He looked down at the notebook in his hands, at all the scribbled brand names and team meetings.
"This… this is real," he muttered.
Lin Yi laughed. "It's real. But I'm not signing any broke rookie deal. We wait. We watch. We make them sweat."
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