645 Fifth Avenue, Olympic Tower, New York.
Lin Qi looked up at the skyscraper whose glass curtain wall gleamed in the sunlight.
He carried his briefcase and strode through the revolving door.
The elevator ascended rapidly with a suffocating, back-pushing sensation, and the digital indicator lights flashed incessantly.
49...50...51.
"Ding." The elevator doors slid open to both sides. The spacious and brightly lit NBA headquarters reception area came into view, with a huge NBA red and blue logo hanging on the marble background wall.
"Good morning, sir. Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist greeted him with a professional smile.
" Lin Qi," he said calmly, "I have an appointment with President Stern for ten o'clock."
The receptionist quickly typed a few words on the keyboard, her attitude instantly becoming extremely respectful. "Please wait a moment, Mr. Lin Qi."
Less than two minutes later, a middle-aged woman in an expensive business suit strode over. "Mr. Lin Qi? I'm the president's senior secretary. Please come with me."
Lin Qi followed her through the headquarters' famous "history corridor." The walls on both sides were covered with huge black-and-white photos with gold trim— Magic's pass, Larry Bird's jump shot, and Michael Jordan's divine game-winning shot in Salt Lake City.
Each photograph is a commercial icon created by David Stern.
At the end of the corridor, the secretary stopped in front of a heavy mahogany double door and knocked gently twice.
"President, Mr. Lin Qi has arrived."
"Please come in." A deep, authoritative voice came from inside the door.
The secretary pushed open the door and slightly turned to the side, gesturing for the door to open.
Dark oak bookshelves, heavy handmade carpets, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering an expansive view of the Manhattan skyline.
Behind that large leather desk, David Stern leaned back in his executive chair. He had gray hair and wore his signature gold-rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Lin Qi," Stern said calmly without rising, "What is it now?"
"It's an honor, Mr. President." Lin Qi walked to the desk with neither humility nor arrogance, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat down.
He placed his black briefcase flat on his lap.
The large office fell silent instantly, with only the faint sound of the central air conditioning running.
"You told my assistant on the phone that you had something extremely important that required my personal attention." Stern leaned forward slightly. "Now, can you tell me what it is?"
"Click." The crisp sound of the metal latch snapping open was particularly jarring in the quiet office.
Lin Qi opened his briefcase, took out the investigation report, and placed it on the walnut wood table in front of David Stern.
"It's about one of your referees, Mr. President."
Lin Qi spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather in New York that day.
"To be precise, it's about Tim Donaghy." He looked at Stern's slightly constricted pupils and played his first card. "He's betting on football. And he has quite a few accomplices."
The office was silent for a full ten seconds.
David Stern didn't touch the document on the table. He leaned back in his large executive chair, his gaze passing over his glasses as he sized up Lin Qi, his index finger tapping lightly on the surface.
Lin Qi maintained a perfectly measured silence, without urging him on.
He knew very well that Stern needed to determine whether the young man sitting opposite him was there to extort money or to discuss business.
"Mr. Lin Qi," Stern finally spoke, his tone calm yet carrying a chilling pressure, "These past few days, the league's security advisor reported to me that someone has been secretly soliciting information about the referees' union and the Philadelphia betting industry at high prices. It seems that those private investigators sniffing around like hunting dogs are the ones you sent out."
Stern paused, leaned forward slightly, and his eyes became extremely aggressive. "You should know that investigating and accusing a current NBA referee without any official authorization is an extremely serious overstepping of boundaries. You're playing with fire, young man."
This was a direct warning from those in power, showcasing not only the alliance's intelligence network but also blatant intimidation before negotiations.
Faced with this sense of pressure, Lin Qi did not back down in the slightest. He also leaned forward, extended a finger, and pushed the report toward Stern.
"If it's just baseless accusation, then that's playing with fire." Lin Qi's tone was uncompromising, his logic airtight. "But the reason I dare to sit here is because I hold a complete chain of evidence. This is enough to thoroughly convict him in federal court and send him to jail for the rest of his life."
Stern looked into Lin Qi's determined eyes, finally reached out, and turned to the first page of the report.
For the next twenty minutes, the only sound in this high-rise office on Fifth Avenue was the rustling of papers turning.
Stern examined the documents meticulously, almost word by word. As a top-tier lawyer, he understood better than anyone just how devastating these documents could be.
Bank statements from overseas accounts. Intercepted phone records of gambling syndicate leaders. Written testimonies from tainted witnesses. And that shocking transcript of the audio recording about how Rasheed Wallace was "targeted for expulsion."
Finally, Stern turned the last page.
He closed the report, took off his glasses, and pinched his brow hard with his thumb and forefinger. When he put his glasses back on and looked at Lin Qi, the previous condescending and imposing aura had vanished, replaced by an extremely stern scrutiny.
How did you get these things?
"The best business investigation firm in the US," Lin Qi replied, "Has signed the highest level of confidentiality agreement."
"What's your motive?" Stern asked. "You went to all that trouble to investigate a referee's background; it couldn't be for the sake of upholding fairness and justice in the league, could it?"
"Because towards the end of the regular season, my data team reviewed Rasheed Wallace's 38 technical fouls this season." Lin Qi's answer was meticulous and professional, subtly throwing out the bait, "The data model showed a serious bias that defies probability... In games officiated by Donaghy, Rasheed was called for fouls far more frequently than illogically. I don't believe it's a coincidence. So before the playoffs started, I had someone investigate him."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, his gaze cold and stern. "And his clumsy point-control plays in the first two playoff games only confirmed my intuition."
Stern paused for a few seconds, then crossed his hands on the table and posed the most crucial question, "If that's the case, why don't you just hand it over to the FBI, or to the New York Times?"
"Because it wouldn't benefit anyone," Lin Qi said calmly, cutting to the chase. "If I hand over the evidence, the scandal will break, Congress will get involved, and TV broadcasters and sponsors will definitely withdraw their funding. The league's commercial value will suffer a devastating blow. And I..."
Lin Qi pointed to himself, and for the first time in this office symbolizing the highest authority in the league, he unabashedly tore off his disguise. "As the owner of the Boston Celtics, I absolutely cannot allow my asset valuation to plummet along with them."
Upon hearing the word "boss," Stern's fingers, which were gripping his glasses, paused almost imperceptibly.
The air in the office seemed to subtly change in that instant.
Stern had, of course, personally reviewed that extremely complex acquisition deal, and he knew that Wizards the real investor behind the Boston Celtics acquisition. He understood better than anyone why Lin Qi had used a consortium to hide himself behind the scenes.
It was a pipe dream for a young Asian man with no roots in Boston to try and take over this traditional powerhouse, which was regarded as a totem by the old money families in New England. If Lin Qi had dared to step forward in his personal capacity, not only would the local forces in Boston have launched a fierce counterattack, but the xenophobic and conservative owners on the league board would never have agreed to give the ticket to a young man with such a background.
So Lin Qi chose to remain patient, or rather, he cleverly orchestrated a scheme.
At the time, former Boston Celtics owner Chris Paul Gaston was embroiled in a "restructuring scandal." Financial and sports media across the United States were reporting extensively on how Gaston used the plummeting stock price to carry out a malicious restructuring and blatantly infringe on the interests of minority shareholders. The media storm that nearly ruined the NBA's reputation and attracted the attention of the Securities and Exchange Commission was not an accident at all, but an event orchestrated by this young man in order to swallow the Celtics.
In order to quickly suppress the negative impact and kick Gaston, this troublemaker, out of the picture, Stern had no choice but to grit his teeth and give Lin Qi's acquisition the green light all the way.
In Stern's plan, since the league had reluctantly let it go, Lin Qi should have wisely continued to play the role of his "president of basketball affairs" as an agent. As long as he didn't actively expose the truth, everyone would continue to operate safely within the traditional rules of the game.
But to his surprise, Lin Qi didn't even bother to pretend anymore.
Stern narrowed his eyes and looked at the young man in front of him again.
Then, he slowly leaned back into the wide leather chair.
"That makes perfect sense." Stern nodded, his posture finally shifting from a superior's condescending look to a completely equal dialogue. "Speak, Mr. Lin Qi. What exactly do you want?"