The fog hadn't lifted in Milan that morning.
Gherardini parked the car in front of a drab old building. This was the headquarters of Olympia Milan, the club. The bronze plaque at the entrance was worn dark by time, but the string of honors engraved on it was still dazzling... thirty Italian Basketball League titles, three Europe Champions Cup.
The oldest and most illustrious name in Italy basketball.
Lin Qi got out of the car and looked up at the building. In the morning mist, it resembled a crouching, aging lion.
"Before we go in," Gherardini said, turning around without turning off the engine, his expression unusually serious, "There are some things I need to make clear to you first."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair. "Go on."
"I must be honest with you, this is a pit of fire." Gherardini shook his head. "It just so happens to be one of the few pits of fire in Europe that you'd actually jump into."
He held up one finger.
"First, you need to understand what a football team is in Europe. In United States, a team is an asset, a commodity that can be bought and sold. The owner buys when they're happy and sells when they're not—it's perfectly normal. But here..." He tapped the steering wheel, "A football team is the lifeblood of a city, the faith of generations, and the prestige of local politicians. You want to acquire Panathinaikos in Greece? The Giannakopoulos family is behind it. You want to touch Efes in Turkey? That's the exclusive domain of the beer conglomerate; you can't touch either of them."
Lin Qi listened quietly. He knew all of this, but what he wanted was for Gherardini to say it himself... He wanted to confirm that the brain he had dug out saw things as clearly as his own.
"An United States company trying to take control of a Europe powerhouse with history, fans, and municipal connections," Gherardini sneered. "Ninety-nine percent of the time, it will be boycotted by local corporations, the city government, and fan associations. They'll launch petitions, smear campaigns in the media, and stall municipal approvals for three to five years. Local protectionism is a hundred times worse than you imagine."
He paused, then finally extended his second finger.
"And Milan... is that one in ten thousand exception."
" Stefanel," Gherardini uttered the name as if spitting out a broken tooth, "That textile group, once Milan's financial backer, enjoying unparalleled success. But now, the parent company's cash flow has dried up. The hole has spread like a plague from the group to the team."
He counted on his fingers. "Two months' worth of player salaries owed. A huge amount of overdue bank debts. Supplier overdue payment notices piled up in the finance office. Just a few days ago, the club was having a meeting debating... whether or not the stadium's electricity bill should be paid this month."
Lin Qi's eyes flickered.
"The key players are already packing their bags," Gherardini continued. "The creditors just want to cash out as quickly as possible, every penny counts, who cares about a century of glory? And the fans? They just want someone to step up and revive this dying team. The city government is also happy to have outsiders take over this mess, lest a century-old powerhouse go bankrupt during their term, that would be truly embarrassing."
He turned his head and looked directly at Lin Qi.
"So, what's usually an impenetrable wall of defense has now been breached in Milan. No one in the area has the money to bail them out, or rather, no one is willing to take on this debt-ridden hole. This window..."
"It's very small," Lin Qi chimed in.
"And it'll be shut down quickly," Gherardini nodded. "Once Stefanel's debt restructuring goes into legal proceedings, his assets will be frozen, broken up, and sold off cheaply to vulture funds. At that point, you'll have no chance of taking full control."
The carriage was silent for a few seconds.
Lin Qi opened the car door, and the morning mist rushed in, carrying the unique, damp, and ancient atmosphere of Milan.
"Then let's do it before it's turned off," he said.
The negotiations took place in a conference room on the third floor of the club.
Across the table sat the liquidation representative from the Stefanel Group, several current directors of the club, and two representatives from the bank creditors. On everyone's face was the same expression: exhaustion, anxiety, and a hint of reluctant, desperate grasping at a straw.
Lin Qi's solution was straightforward.
This is not a simple stock sale. What he is going to do is a whole set of moves: asset restructuring, debt repayment, and buyout of shares. He will take over the club's historical debts in one go, settling all overdue salaries, overdue loans, and supplier arrears. At the same time, he will buy out absolute control of the club, making the Boston consortium the sole and undisputed owner of Olympia Milan.
In exchange, the price he quoted for the whole thing was...
$8 million.
A suppressed gasp filled the conference room.
This figure is almost humiliatingly low for a century-old powerhouse with thirty championships and three Europe titles. But for a shell company that is already insolvent and has to hold meetings to discuss even electricity bills, it is a real rope that can pull everyone ashore. The price also includes the budget for the first season's big signings and a luxury tax buffer. Lin Qi doesn't just want to buy it; he wants to get it back on its feet that very season.
"Mr. Lin Qi," the liquidation representative's voice was somewhat hoarse, "This price... the club's historical value is far more than..."
"Historical value can't be used to pay off debts," Lin Qi interrupted him, his tone utterly calm. " Nor can it be used to pay next month's salaries. What you need now isn't a sucker willing to pay the price for 'history.' What you need is someone who can stop the bleeding immediately and has the ability to get this team winning again."
He looked around, his gaze sweeping over every face.
"I can give you both. Today, right now."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Or, you can continue to wait. Wait for the debts to enter judicial liquidation, wait for the assets to be frozen, wait for the vulture funds to dismantle this club into pieces and sell it by weight. By then, you won't get a penny, the fans will lose their team, and the city government will lose face."
He spread his hands.
"Pick one."
That afternoon, the negotiations entered a long and drawn-out process.
Creditors were arguing over repayment ratios, directors were vying for honorary seats after the restructuring, and liquidation representatives were repeatedly calling the group headquarters for instructions. Lin Qi spent most of the time leaning back in his chair, letting Gherardini handle the negotiations, while he himself would only add or subtract a sentence at key junctures without making a sound.
In the evening, during a coffee break, Gherardini leaned close to Lin Qi and whispered, "You know what? You're not the first United States to have considered buying Milan."
"Oh?"
"There was this United States who played in Italy for many years. Joe Brian," Gherardini sipped his coffee. "He spent most of his life in this country, even his son grew up in Italy... That kid plays in Los Angeles now, his name is Kobe."
Lin Qi paused slightly in the hand holding the cup.
"Rumor has it that Old Bryant always had a dream of acquiring an Italy team, and Milan was on his list." Gherardini smiled, a hint of wryness in his expression. "Unfortunately, it was just a dream. The funding never came through, and it ultimately fell through."
Lin Qi gazed at the darkening sky outside the window and remained silent for a moment.
He took a sip of his now slightly cooled coffee.
The deadlock was broken after nightfall.
What finally broke the camel's back was the last phone call from the Stefanel Group headquarters. They couldn't afford to delay any longer, and the liquidation representative almost said so with a sense of relief.
The signing ceremony was very simple, so simple that it seemed completely out of place with the club's century-long history of glory.
A long table, a pen, and several open contracts. No champagne, no flashbulbs, no cheers. Outside the window, the Milan night is deep, and most of the lights in the club building are off, to save on the electricity bill that is about to become unaffordable.
Lin Qi picked up the pen and signed his name on the last page.
The moment the pen left the paper, Olympia Milan... the oldest symbol of Italy basketball, officially changed hands.
Its new owner is a man from Boston who is currently being vilified by the media across the ocean as a "missing CEO".
The liquidation representative shook his hand with a sigh of relief, the directors wore complex expressions of relief, and the bank staff were calculating how much of the deficit this payment could cover.
Late Night, after the signing ceremony, Lin Qi remained alone in the empty conference room.
Gherardini pushed open the door and came in, carrying a bottle of red wine that he had somehow found, along with two glasses.
"Congratulations, boss." He pushed the glass towards Lin Qi and poured him some wine. "You're the owner of Milan now." He swirled the glass, the shrewdness in his eyes still lingering. "But I still have to ask you that question from yesterday: buying a debt-ridden shell, a team where all the key players are leaving, what exactly do you intend to do with it?"
Lin Qi picked up his glass but didn't drink. Through the deep red liquid, he looked at the row of faded champion photos on the wall.
"Do you think I'm buying a football team?" he countered.
Gherardini was taken aback.
"I bought a spot," Lin Qi said, setting down his cup. "A spot that lets me stretch my arms across the entire Europe continent."
He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the sleeping city of Milan outside.
"The arena, the championship banners—those are the things others can see. But what's truly valuable is what others can't: the endless stream of geniuses on this continent, growing cheaply like weeds. It's those names overlooked across the ocean, yet destined to shake the entire league. It's a whole talent pipeline that hasn't been built yet..."
He turned around and looked at Gherardini.
"And Milan is just the first."
Gherardini's hand, holding the wine glass, froze in mid-air.
He suddenly realized that he might have seriously underestimated the young man in front of him. He thought Lin Qi was a wealthy player who had come to buy up a fallen powerhouse, but now he understood... This man's ambition was not in a team, not in a country, and not even in basketball itself.
"So," Gherardini slowly set down his glass, his voice taking on a serious tone for the first time, "You didn't bring me here to run Milan."
"Of course not." Lin Qi laughed. "Running a team would be a waste of your talent, Gherardini."
He picked up his untouched glass of red wine again and this time drank it all in one gulp.
"I want you to help me manage all of Europe."