That afternoon, in a luxury suite at the Four Seasons Hotel Boston.
As soon as Lin Qi pushed open the door, he was greeted not by the tense atmosphere of business negotiations, but by the rich smoke of Cuba cigars and the aroma of an open bottle of bourbon whiskey.
Matt Damon, who was at the center of a media storm and was indignant on television, was now slumped on the sofa, applying an ice pack to his forehead and rubbing his temples.
"Oh God, Lynn, you're finally here." Damon immediately started complaining loudly as soon as he saw Lin Qi. "You have no idea how much pressure I've been under these past two days. I used up all my acting skills to portray that 'pure anger of a die-hard Boston fan.' My throat was so dry after the press conference this morning that I even canceled my afternoon schedule. That damn Gaston's expression on TV was like he'd swallowed a live fly, it was hilarious."
Ben Affleck, sitting next to Lynch, couldn't help but laugh, handing Lin Qi a glass of whiskey. " Matt, your acting was absolutely superb when you were pointing an X at the stock chart on TV. I suspect Gaston is going to have a heart attack tonight."
Mark Wahlberg, leaning against the window wearing Red Sox baseball cap, smirked and scoffed, " Gaston, that New York, is a complete idiot. He thought the restructuring would work, but he didn't even realize his own backyard was on fire. Lin, when he was signing documents with you in the office today, wasn't his face green?"
Lin Qi took the glass, took a sip, and sat down with a smile.
"About 180 million US dollars, all in cash. He begged my new consortium to take over all the troubles of the retail investors and, incidentally, shut you all up."
Upon hearing this number, the eyes of the three people in the room lit up simultaneously.
Damon ripped the ice pack off his neck and leaned closer, somewhat excitedly. "One hundred and eighty million US dollars? You really won over this sixteen-time champion powerhouse? What about our share..."
Lin Qi took three option documents bearing the Celtics shamrock logo from his briefcase and slid them across the coffee table.
" The City Honorary Advisory Committee has been fully vacated at a premium by retail investors. And you three, each with a symbolic 0.01% stake. Congratulations, from today onwards, you are the rightful minority owners of the Celtics. Of course, my name will also be written at the end of this public list, sharing the title of 'minor owner' with you."
Wahlberg raised an eyebrow, picked up the document, glanced at it, and scoffed, "0.01%? Lin, that's not even enough to buy a toilet in the FleetCenter!"
"The shares aren't many, but the key is the privileges that come with them, Mark." Lin Qi smiled slightly, leaning back in his chair. "It's clearly written in the new consortium's bylaws. Starting next season, the team will reserve a top-of-the-line lifetime VIP box for you. You can bring Hollywood actresses over for parties anytime. In addition, unlimited access to the team's locker room, VIP seats at the draft, and the right to speak on behalf of the local investors at all public events—it's all included in this."
Lin Qi paused, looking at Wahlberg with amusement. "Most importantly, from now on, you can sit in any bar in Boston full of drunks, point at the big screen, and berate all the guys who talk back to you, then tell them: 'Shut your stinking mouths, I'm the owner of this team, you're just fans.'"
"Dude, this privilege is so cool!" Ben Affleck couldn't help but whistle, his eyes full of excitement.
Damon smiled with satisfaction, tucked the file into his pocket, then, remembering something, lowered his voice and asked:
"But Lin, have you sorted things out with Auerbach the Cardinal? All of Boston is watching the old man's attitude. If he doesn't agree, no matter how well we put on this show, the fans won't be completely convinced."
"We just met this morning, and the old man has already signed it," Lin Qi replied.
Damon breathed a sigh of relief, leaned back on the sofa, and a shrewd smile of a victor appeared on his face.
"Then I'm relieved. Since the Cardinal is backing us, I'll have the lawyers ready for the joint statement tomorrow afternoon. As for the media, I'll tell them, 'The Boston fans themselves took the team back.' As for that bastard Gaston, he'll take $180 million and roll back to New York amidst the city's scorn."
Affleck raised his glass and clinked it against Lin Qi's. "What about that damn Rick Pitino? He's turned the team into a pile of crap. When are we getting rid of him?"
Lin Qi also raised his glass, a cold smile flashing in his eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll get him out of here before the new season starts. Every step the Celtics take from here on out is up to me."
Four glasses of whiskey clinked gently in the air, making a crisp sound. What outsiders perceived as a tense "battle to defend faith" was, in this upscale suite, settled in a flurry of witty banter and laughter by this group of seemingly unskilled but actually shrewd partners.