The 2000 NBA All-Star Game was electric, held in Oakland—the heart of the San Francisco Bay Area and home to the Golden State Warriors. After last year's cancellation due to the shortened season, fan anticipation was off the charts. The media buzzed with hype, and fans poured in their votes like never before.
At the top of the charts? None other than the league's new face—Zhao Dong.
With a staggering 4.95 million votes, Zhao Dong wasn't just the All-Star vote leader—he was the undisputed king of the ballots, doubling Michael Jordan's count. That's right, twice as many as MJ. The league had its new icon.
But Zhao wasn't the only headline.
Vince Carter, the high-flying Canadian, shocked the scene with nearly two million votes, riding the wave of his gravity-defying highlights.
And here's the kicker—Zhao Dong was listed as a center on this year's ballot.
Eastern Conference All-Star Starters:
C: Zhao Dong
F: Vince Carter
F: Grant Hill
G: Jason Kidd
G: Allen Iverson
Western Conference All-Star Starters:
C: Shaquille O'Neal
F: Tim Duncan
F: Kevin Garnett
G: Kobe Bryant
G: Gary Payton
Eastern Conference Reserves:
Ray Allen
Glenn Robinson
Tracy McGrady
Reggie Miller
Yao Ming
Rasheed Wallace
Karl Malone
Western Conference Reserves:
Michael Finley
John Stockton
Chris Webber
David Robinson
Allan Houston
Steve Francis
Anfernee "Penny" Hardaway
Zhao Dong looked over the final roster with a calm expression. He didn't bother comparing it to the original timeline in his memory. Frankly, he'd rewritten history enough by now.
Still, he noticed a few changes.
Yao Ming, now a household name, had taken a reserve spot—likely bumping Dikembe Mutombo out. What made it more impressive? Yao earned his place not from a wave of Chinese fan votes, but on the strength of his play and influence right here in the league.
Steve Francis, Zhao remembered, hadn't made the All-Star team in his rookie year in the original timeline. Clearly, someone else had been squeezed out.
Same story with McGrady.
The NBA had brought back the Dunk Contest this year. After Kobe's win in '97 and the event's flop, the contest was shelved. Last year's canceled All-Star Weekend didn't help either. But this year, it returned in full force.
Headlining the dunk hype? Vince Carter. The Canadian Flyboy was ready to redefine gravity. McGrady and Francis were solid challengers.
The league even tried to recruit Zhao Dong to participate. He turned them down.
Fresh off the Warriors game, Zhao Dong didn't linger for the press. No interviews. No postgame recap.
He walked straight out of the tunnel.
One hour later, he was airborne—aboard his private jet, slicing through the night sky
The capital was buried in snow. The north wind howled over Beijing as Zhao Dong's jet touched down at the international airport.
In a quiet hutong off Sanbulao Alley, lights still burned in the Zhao family courtyard. The television flickered. Voices murmured inside.
In the outer courtyard, Lindsay had just finished her work, ready to turn in for the night. Li Meizhu urged her toward bed when the sound of the front gate creaked open.
"Dacheng and his father are home tonight. Who's coming in this late?" Li Meizhu muttered as she headed outside.
The moment she opened the door, she froze.
"You... You're back?" she stammered.
Zhao Dong stood in the doorway, smiling.
"Surprise, Mom," he grinned.
Lindsay gasped from the hallway, "Husband?!"
Meilin, Lindsay's attendant, peeked around the corner. When she saw Zhao Dong, she turned around and shouted excitedly, "Madam! It's really him! Master's home!"
"Whee!" Lindsay ran into his arms like a shot.
"Wait, wait!" Li Meizhu stopped them at the threshold. "Dongdong, you're freezing. Don't let Weiwei catch a chill!"
Too late—Lindsay was already holding him tightly. Fortunately, he'd taken off his down jacket.
"Silly son," Meizhu sighed. "You came back just for a few days of rest? You've still got time before the playoffs. What's the rush?"
"Mom, go inside," Zhao Dong chuckled. "Let me take care of my own business."
"Don't mess around," she warned. "Separate beds. Weiwei's pregnant."
"I know, I know!" he laughed.
"The old man and the old lady are still awake. Go greet them later," she reminded.
In the rear courtyard…
Zhao Zhenguo, Grandpa Zhao, and Grandma Zhao sat watching TV. Zhao's younger brother Zhao Dacheng lounged nearby. Meizhu entered with a grin.
"Old man, old lady, his father—guess who just flew back from the States just to see his wife?" she announced.
"What?!" they all sat up.
"Just walked into the front yard," Meizhu added.
Zhao Zhenguo nodded. "It's good. He should come see Weiwei."
"I'm gonna see my brother!" Dacheng said excitedly.
SMACK! Meizhu slapped him back into the couch.
"Don't be a third wheel! Go back to your room!" she barked.
"Mom, stop hitting me!" Dacheng grumbled. "I'm a leader now in the Beijing film and TV scene!"
THUD! This time, Zhao Zhenguo's foot did the talking.
"Leader, my ass," he scolded. "Don't embarrass the family."
Grandma Zhao chuckled. "Let him be. The eldest has settled down now. That's a blessing."
Zhao Zhenguo nodded. "We have everything we need now, especially wealth. But with great fortune comes great scrutiny. Don't get sloppy."
Dacheng raised a hand in mock salute. "Relax, Dad. I'm clean. Even if I did promise someone something, Weiwei wouldn't let it happen. She's got more power than me anyway."
Zhao Zhenguo's face turned red. He couldn't argue with that.
Zhao Dong stretched and stepped outside for his morning jog. The snow had stopped, but the air was sharp.
Just past the courtyard gate, he ran into Liu Chengbing.
"Zhao Dong? You're back from the U.S.?" Liu asked, clearly surprised.
"Landed last night. What about you?" Zhao Dong asked, already warming up.
"I'm your father's secretary now," Liu replied.
"Got it," Zhao Dong nodded, jogging off.
Liu watched him fade into the hutong mist, deep in thought. A few years ago, the Zhao family had no political roots, no clout. Now?
Now this dusty courtyard was a command post—where Evelyn Lindsay, a woman with global influence and capital leverage, ran plays that shaped the future of China's major state-owned enterprises.
Each message, each directive she sent from this modest home—rippled across international markets.
After four days in Beijing, Zhao Dong returned to the U.S., landing at LAX at 4:00 PM local time. From there, a private helicopter whisked him to Oakland Arena just in time for tip-off.
The moment Zhao Dong stepped out of the underground parking lot and made his way toward the locker rooms, the media swarmed like piranhas.
"Zhao Dong! Why did you just arrive in Oakland today?" a reporter called out, shoving a mic toward him.
"I took a short break. Went back to China," Zhao replied coolly, brushing past the cameras.
"To visit Mrs. Lindsay?"
The news of Lindsay's pregnancy had already been leaked—courtesy of some loose-lipped Knicks teammates—so the press wasn't surprised.
Zhao nodded. "Yeah."
With that, he pushed open the door to the Eastern Conference All-Star locker room.
Inside, all eleven All-Stars were already present, talking and laughing.
Yao Ming—quiet and still new to the scene—was sitting with Vince Carter and Tracy McGrady, enjoying light conversation.
"Yo, Brother Dong! You're finally here."
"Zhao!"
A few of the veterans stood up to greet him. Some just nodded—Karl Malone barely looked up, and Iverson gave him a short glance before returning to his conversation.
Zhao scanned the room and smirked. "Lot of new faces this year."
He made his rounds.
"Yao," he said, patting the big man on the back. "How's it feel being an All-Star?"
Yao smiled sheepishly. "Feels great."
Zhao grinned and congratulated Vince Carter. "That dunk contest last night—crazy. You had the arena floating."
As the players chatted, the locker room door opened again, and Coach Don Nelson strolled in.
"Zhao," Nelson smiled, shaking his hand. "Still shaking off the jet lag?"
"A little," Zhao replied. "You should give the young guys more burn tonight."
Nelson chuckled. "You're 22. Since when were you not one of the young guys?"
Everyone in the room laughed. Zhao Dong may have been young, but his presence was pure veteran.
"Think we got a shot against the West this year?" Grant Hill asked.
Zhao made a show of squinting at the roster sheet. "We've got the perimeter. But inside? Duncan, O'Neal, Garnett... They'll eat us alive."
"Our inside's that bad?" Malone grunted.
Zhao turned to him. "You? You're telling me you can handle Shaq or Duncan? You can't even stop Garnett when he pops out. And do us all a favor—this is the All-Star Game. Try not to throw elbows tonight."
Malone's face flushed. "You think I'd throw elbows in an All-Star Game? What am I, stupid?"
Zhao shrugged. "You said it, not me."
"Man, guys like me—old-school, on the way out—should take it easy tonight," Zhao added. "Let the new generation shine. Yao versus Shaq and Duncan? That's what fans want."
Around the room, players shook their heads with amused disbelief.
Yao Ming was clearly flustered but didn't say a word. In this room, hierarchy ruled. He knew his place.
"We don't really have any true bigs," Zhao continued. "Might as well go one-in, four-out. Spread them and shoot."
Karl Malone's face turned dark. Zhao was clearly ignoring him.
---
8:00 PM – Tip-off, Oakland Arena
"Bang!"
The West won the tip. Shaquille O'Neal stepped up and launched a surprise three-pointer. It clanked off the rim—and Zhao Dong snatched the rebound with authority.
He immediately went coast-to-coast, spinning behind the back to shake Tim Duncan, ignoring both Kidd and Iverson calling for the rock.
"Zhao! Dunk it!" the fans roared from the stands.
After Vince Carter's UFO-level dunk contest the night before, fans were desperate to see what Zhao Dong would bring.
The West got the memo—they weren't about to contest early. Kobe and Gary Payton jogged back and peeled off, giving Zhao the runway.
He crossed the arc, stepped just inside the free throw line…
"BOOM!"
A 720-degree spin in the air—twice. Then a one-handed windmill flush that shook the rim like thunder.
"OOOOHHHH!"
The crowd exploded.
NBC's cameras panned to Marv Albert, shouting into his mic.
"OH! An absolutely jaw-dropping 720! Zhao Dong defies physics—again! The core strength, the hang-time—unreal!"
Doug Collins chimed in:
"Marv, we've never seen anything like that. This young man doesn't just dunk—he performs. That's a statement to the entire league."
David Stern, seated courtside, clapped and nodded approvingly. The arena's energy was now boiling over.
On the West bench, Jordan stood and grinned. "Zhao, do it again!" he called out.
"I want one back!" Shaq shouted.
"Then pass it to me!" Kobe added with a grin.
O'Neal turned to him. "Kobe, gimme the rock—I'm dunking this one."
Kobe gave him a look. "You tryna match that? You better fly, big man."
---
The West set up their offense. O'Neal bullied his way into the post—no one from the East even tried to stop him. The only true big in the Eastern starting five was Zhao.
Kobe lobbed it in, and Shaq caught it one-handed. Zhao just stepped aside.
"Zhao, why are you backing off?" Shaq barked. "Come catch this poster!"
"You think I'm as dumb as you?" Zhao shot back, laughing.
"BOOM!"
Shaq hammered it in, and the crowd roared in approval.
---
Eastern Conference ball.
Carter inbounded, but everyone called for it—Kidd, Iverson, Grant Hill, Zhao Dong.
All wings. Not a true big man in sight.
Carter blinked. "Uh…"
Then he tossed it to Zhao.
This man funded his sneaker deal. Not a hard choice.
Kidd didn't care. Hill nodded. But Iverson scowled.
Zhao took it up, motioning with one hand for the others to spread out. Four out, one in—himself.
The West had Duncan, Garnett, and O'Neal clogging the paint. But Carter and Hill pulled them wide. The lane was wide open.
Garnett stepped up to defend Zhao.
Suddenly, Iverson cut through the gap.
Zhao gave a slight fake to shake Garnett, then dished the ball—threading the needle.
Iverson caught it in stride and laid it in clean.
"That's a layup, A.I.?" Zhao shouted. "You better throw that down next time or I'm not passing again!"
Iverson turned and glared. "Man, you…"
He didn't even finish. Too mad to talk.
---
Back on defense, Zhao kept barking.
"Gary! Don't feed your bigs—they're boring. Let Kobe dunk a few!"
Kobe raised an eyebrow. "I like this guy."
But Duncan, Garnett, and O'Neal all bristled.
"My dunks get more cheers than yours!" Shaq growled.
Zhao grinned. "Yeah—cheers of pity."
Garnett fired back. "My slams aren't boring either!"
Zhao smirked. "You ever even make the dunk contest, KG?"
"…Tch."
Duncan stayed quiet.
"What about you, Timmy?" Zhao turned to him. "You good to play two more minutes before sitting your rebound-happy self down?"
Duncan looked mortified.
Meanwhile, players on both benches were cracking up.
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