It was November 2nd. Early in the morning, Zhao Dong and Lindsay drove quietly to a private hospital for a pregnancy checkup.
Lindsay had been pregnant since July—four months along now. The baby's gender could finally be revealed by ultrasound.
For generations, the Zhao family had produced nothing but sons. Zhao Dong's great-grandfather fathered six boys but no girls—only Zhao Dong's grandfather survived adulthood, the rest lost to sickness or war. His grandfather's line produced two sons, though one died days after birth.
In Zhao Dong's generation, he already had four sons of his own. His older brother had also been fined heavily for having a second child but still produced another boy. Six grandsons in total—and not a daughter in sight.
So yes, everyone wanted a girl this time. Especially Zhao Dong.
Lindsay wanted one too. After years in China, she'd fully absorbed the idea that a family was truly complete with both sons and daughters. Besides, raising four rambunctious boys was enough to give her headaches daily. A daughter, she hoped, would finally give her the sweet comfort she craved.
When the ultrasound began, both of them were more nervous than when they'd made their first pot of gold during the Asian financial crisis.
Zhao Dong squinted at the fuzzy monitor, but the grainy shadows meant nothing to him. After a minute he asked impatiently, "Doctor Mike, can you tell yet?"
"Mr. Zhao Dong, just a moment," the doctor replied. "I need to take a closer look."
Another minute passed. Then Dr. Mike turned, cleared his throat, and said, "Mr. Zhao Dong, Mrs. Lindsay… it's a daughter."
"Really?!" Zhao Dong's voice cracked with excitement. Lindsay's eyes lit up instantly.
Doctor Mike blinked, puzzled. To him it was routine—boy or girl, so what? Why were these two looking like they'd just won the lottery?
Nervously, he glanced back at the monitor and double-checked. Three minutes later, he said with full certainty, "Yes. Definitely a daughter."
"Hahaha! I finally have a little cotton-padded jacket!" Zhao Dong jumped up, nearly knocking over a stool.
"Careful, slow down!" Lindsay laughed, and he quickly steadied her with both hands, more cautious than when she'd carried their first child.
He stuffed a thick red envelope into Dr. Mike's pocket before they left, grinning ear to ear.
The moment they got into the car, Zhao Dong whipped out his phone and dialed home.
"Hello…" His mother, Li Meizhu, picked up. It was mid-morning in China.
"Mom, congratulations! You're going to have a granddaughter!" Zhao Dong announced loudly.
"Zhao Dong, when are you bringing my four grandsons back?!" she snapped immediately. "You think I raised you just for you to run off to America? Four boys and I barely see them!"
But when his words sank in, her tone changed. "Wait—you said granddaughter? Really? Dongdong, are you serious?"
"Of course it's true. We just left the hospital. The test's done. It's a little girl," Zhao Dong assured her.
He knew his mother had been stewing for years about him staying abroad. Now was his chance to win her back.
"Hahaha!" Li Meizhu's laughter rang out through the phone.
"Daughter, what are you shouting for? You scared me!" complained the old lady in the house, bouncing Zhao Dacheng's toddler on her knee.
"Mom, our Dongdong's wife is pregnant with a girl!" Li Meizhu beamed. "The Zhao family's first baby girl in a hundred years!"
The old lady's jaw dropped. Then she clapped her hands. "Quick, tell your father. He'll be over the moon. A Zhao granddaughter at last!"
---
November rolled on. The Jets fought through four games, splitting them 2–2. Their overall record stood at 8–3, still good enough to hold first place in the AFC East and atop the entire conference.
Meanwhile, in the NBA, Yao Ming's New Jersey Nets were tearing through the Eastern Conference, clearly emerging as the team to beat.
Last year, Karl Malone and Allen Iverson had kept pace with them. This year, though, age caught up to Malone, and Iverson couldn't carry the load alone. The Nets' dominance was obvious.
Out West, the Lakers still looked strong but weren't the unstoppable force they'd been. Shaquille O'Neal continued to post 20+10 nights, his presence in the paint as daunting as ever—but his stats showed slippage, the first cracks in his reign. Kobe was sharper, stronger, more dangerous than ever, but the dynasty's foundation was beginning to shift.
Kobe Bryant's dominance was becoming more and more pronounced. He had completely seized control of the Lakers' offense, leaving Shaquille O'Neal with fewer touches.
Meanwhile, 38-year-old David Robinson was running on fumes, his body betraying him. Retirement loomed; only the chance at one last championship was keeping him in uniform.
The Lakers were no longer the intimidating "Big Three" of old. They had shifted into the "OK" lineup—O'Neal and Kobe—with the team's identity moving from the paint to the perimeter, now firmly in Kobe's hands.
Zhao Dong couldn't help but smirk at the parallel. This was just like his rookie year, when he battled Patrick Ewing—the "Gorilla"—for control of the Knicks. He dared to predict the ending would be the same as it had been in his past life: the aging Shaq would fade, the younger Kobe would take the reins, and the Lakers would complete their transition from old guard to new.
---
Back in the NFL, the regular season was barreling toward its conclusion.
The New York Jets, battered by injuries, dropped two of their last five games. Even so, when the dust settled, they finished at 11–5, easily surpassing last season's 9–7 record.
The Jets weren't just good—they were champions of the AFC East, boasting the best record in the entire AFC.
The other division winners were:
Colts (AFC South)
Broncos (AFC West)
Steelers (AFC North)
From the NFC side, the division titles went to:
Eagles (East)
Panthers (South)
49ers (West)
Packers (North)
Those eight division champions punched their tickets to the postseason. Four more teams secured wild card spots, rounding out the playoff field.
The format was simple: four rounds—Wild Card Weekend, Divisional Round, Conference Championships, and the Super Bowl.
Top seeds held the advantage. Each conference seeded its division winners one through four. The top two earned a first-round bye and home-field advantage.
For the Jets, that meant everything. They were the No. 1 seed in the AFC. First round bye. Giants Stadium would be their fortress.
---
It had been a statement season for Zhao Dong. His freakish athleticism let him shine in multiple roles—returner, linebacker, running back, tight end, and wide receiver. The media didn't just call him versatile; they called him unstoppable.
He also led the league in sacks, finishing with 21—just shy of the all-time single-season record of 22.5.
For a rookie, it was unreal. He had already cemented himself as an NFL superstar.
Still, the hardware was missing. The league's highest honors—MVP, Super Bowl champion, Super Bowl MVP, Offensive Player of the Year, Defensive Player of the Year, Rookie of the Year—those were the true benchmarks.
Zhao Dong believed his play deserved recognition. With the Jets' record, he even had an outside shot at MVP. But he knew the media voting process made it unlikely he'd get that crown—not yet.
Lindsay had asked if he wanted to grease the wheels, maybe lean on her connections to sway the media. Zhao Dong shook his head.
"No," he told her firmly. "If I win something, it's because I earned it."
---
On January 5th, the NFL announced the regular season awards.
Zhao Dong walked away with two:
Defensive Player of the Year
Rookie of the Year
A rookie, named the league's best defender. It was unheard of—and it put the entire NFL on notice.
The very next day, the postseason began.
---
With the Jets on a bye, Zhao Dong and his teammates watched Wild Card Weekend unfold. When the dust settled, their opponent was clear:
The Pittsburgh Steelers.
Once the juggernauts of the 1970s, powered by their legendary 1974 draft class that produced four Hall of Famers, the Steelers had owned that era with four Super Bowl titles.
The 1980s brought decline, but under head coach Bill Cowher in the '90s, Pittsburgh had clawed back to relevance—eight playoff appearances in a decade, signaling a new era of revival.
But this year? Injuries had ravaged them. They weren't the same Steel Curtain.
The stage was set.
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