After Wahlberg left, Miller remained silent for a while before suddenly speaking.
" Kevin should really endorse some trendy brands or something..."
Garnett, who was drinking water, nearly choked when he heard this. He looked up, his eyes wide. "Me? Wearing those baggy hoodies to a magazine shoot?"
"Yes." Miller looked at him, his eyes shining. "All your current business ventures are too traditional. It's nothing more than sneakers, drinks, and local car dealerships. But you have your own style. You pound your chest on the court and trash talk into the air. In the eyes of traditional media, that's bad manners, but in the eyes of young people, that's called authenticity. You're perfect for street fashion."
Lin Qi calmly cut his steak and asked, "Has Eric considered these things?"
Miller did not answer immediately.
" Eric is a master at negotiating big contracts." Miller carefully chose his words, trying to sound objective. "No one can deny that. He's tough, he dares to slam his fist on the table with the general manager and demand a higher price, and he's not afraid to offend the team owner. In this league, he can secure the best possible outcome for Kevin."
Lin Qi nodded. "That's the advantage of a top agent."
At this moment, Garnett's mother, who had been quietly eating her dessert, suddenly put down her fork.
"That Eric..." she said casually, her tone flat, but her gaze lingered on her son's water glass. "Last year on Kevin's birthday, he sent a handwritten card through his assistant. On the card, he misspelled Kevin's sister's name."
The table fell silent instantly, with only the background music playing in the distance from the restaurant.
Garnett didn't speak. He stared at the shimmering water in his glass, his thumbnail unconsciously digging into the seam of the tablecloth. For a Black family like theirs, who had endured hardship in South Carolina, this careless mistake was more chilling than losing tens of thousands of dollars in prize money... It meant that, in the eyes of that white elite in a suit, they were nothing more than a string of numbers on a form indicating they could play basketball.
"But he is indeed too traditional." Miller, seemingly oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, continued along his train of thought, " Kevin, you are different from Jordan. Jordan is a god. You are not a god; you are a new generation of high school prodigy, with the height of an inside player, but you can change direction and dribble like a guard. Your image shouldn't be 'perfect,' it should be 'the future.' People need to see your training, your clothes, your story in the Black community. Put all of these together, and you will be the symbol of a new era."
Lin Qi stopped cutting his steak and looked up at Miller.
On the field, offensive advisor Westphal is pushing against all odds to mold this twenty-year-old into an "unprecedented all-around big man"; while this young man, who doesn't even understand tactics, is instinctively offering the same solution in the business world.
"You're very good at it," Lin Qi said slowly, "Thinking from Kevin's perspective."
Miller's spine tightened; he sensed the sharp edge hidden in Lin Qi's words.
"Many people only see immediate gains and are desperate to get something from Kevin." Lin Qi wiped his mouth with a napkin. "What you just said is how the world will view Kevin ten or twenty years from now."
Garnett also looked up, his gaze shifting between Lin Qi and Miller.
At that moment, Miller suddenly realized that he had overstepped his bounds. He was just a friend accompanying him, and what he had just said was blatantly planning the life of a billionaire.
He gave a dry laugh, trying to soften the tone. "I was just... babbling around in a magazine, just saying whatever came to mind."
Lin Qi smiled.
"It's good that you're just talking casually; it shows you have a brain." Lin Qi picked up his glass, took a sip, and spoke as casually as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather. "By the way, that streetwear brand Wahlberg mentioned earlier, they're looking for a young consultant in the sports world to see what young players like. It's not about getting Kevin to endorse them; it's purely business consulting. If you're free, I'll have my secretary send you the address tomorrow, and you can go and meet with their manager."
"It has nothing to do with Kevin," Lin Qi added. "It's just that I think you're quite suited to earning this extra money."
Miller was stunned.
He was used to being introduced to various big shots as " Garnett's sidekick" and " Kevin's friend." This was the first time he had heard his own name heard from someone who controlled top-tier resources.
He didn't thank me immediately, but his Adam's apple bobbed, and he nodded vigorously.
A week after the meal, Lin Qi had his assistant send Miller two things: a VIP invitation to the film's creators' party and an unreleased sample catalog of the streetwear brand's next season.
But on the way back, Garnett, unusually, didn't put on his headphones to listen to rap; he just watched the neon lights of Boston flash by outside the window.
As they neared their lodgings, he asked in a muffled voice, "Lin, do you think... I resemble Will from the movie?"
Lin Qi leaned back in his seat and didn't answer immediately.
" Kevin, this is a movie," Lin Qi said. "Everyone will see a part of themselves in Will, and that's why this movie is so successful."
Garnett smiled and nodded.
"But... you two are alike in one way. You wounded kids spend your whole lives trying to figure out one thing... whether the person standing beside you, helping you count your money, is exploiting your talents to get rich, or genuinely protecting you, a living, breathing human being."
The smile on Garnett's face gradually faded away.
He fell silent again, and after a long while, he murmured softly, "That kid Andrew... I've never heard anyone mention what he said tonight before."
Lin Qi closed his eyes to rest and didn't reply.
The car came to a stop in front of the apartment building. Garnett opened the car door, and before getting out, turned to Lin Qi earnestly and said, "Call me again next time there's a gathering like this. I had a great time today."
Lin Qi nodded. "Okay."
The car door closed. Through the tinted windows with shatterproof film, Lin Qi watched Garnett walk ahead with his mother, while Miller lagged behind by half a step. At the last moment before going upstairs, Miller turned around and took a deep look in the direction of Lin Qi's car.
The car started again and drove into the cold March night in Boston.
Lin Qi opened his briefcase, inside which lay two folders side by side. One was a background investigation report for " Andrew Miller," a thin few pages long; the other was for " Eric Fleisher," as thick as a legal code.
Lin Qi placed Miller's file on top of Fleisher's folder.
With a click, the briefcase clasp snapped into place.
It's like a chess piece being placed on a chessboard.