Time moved slowly, and by the end of April, little Qiaoqiao was already one month old.
On the 26th, the Zhao family set up several tables at home for a small celebration.
That same day, Yao Ming called Zhao Dong with exciting news.
"Brother Dong," Yao said, his voice brimming with pride, "the Nets made the playoffs! Best record in the league!"
"That's good," Zhao Dong replied with a smile.
"There's more. The team's been talking to Mr. Wells about me signing a five-year, $60 million deal. But Wells isn't really supportive. What do you think? Should I sign it?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Five years, sixty million? Honestly, you might as well head to the Lakers. The Shaq-Kobe partnership is on thin ice. If O'Neal gets traded, you won't have to fight Kobe for control. That's a better fit for you."
"Go to the Lakers?" Yao Ming sounded stunned on the other end.
"Don't worry about that yet," Zhao Dong said firmly. "Focus on the playoffs first. Try to win the championship. If you get that, every option will be much easier."
Yao paused, then laughed. "Alright, Brother Dong. I'll leave it for now."
---
May rolled in. On the afternoon of May 3rd, after lunch, Zhao Dong took his baby daughter for a quiet walk through the alleyways.
As fate would have it, he passed by the Shichahai Martial Arts School and ran into Wu Jing, who had just stepped out.
"Hey! You're from the Black Banner," Zhao Dong called out casually.
"My family's from the White Banner," Wu Jing muttered, instantly feeling a headache once he recognized who it was.
He glanced at the child in Zhao Dong's arms. "Is this your daughter?"
"Of course. Pretty, isn't she? Cute too?" Zhao Dong asked, grinning.
"Pretty and cute," Wu Jing replied quickly. Deep down he thought: If I say no, he'll probably crush me on the spot.
"Good. I like hearing people praise my daughter. Compliment her enough, and maybe I'll get my brother to invest in a blockbuster for you."
"…." Wu Jing's face twitched. Does this man know the meaning of shame?
But the baby really was adorable—her big eyes sparkled as if they could talk—so Wu Jing had no choice but to keep praising her.
---
Later that afternoon, around four, Zhao Dong's older brother Zhao Dacheng came by.
"Brother, you stay home every day taking care of your daughter. Aren't you bored being a full-time nanny?" he teased.
"Bored? Not at all," Zhao Dong said with a laugh. "Between caring for my daughter and son, remotely managing the Wenchuan multi-billion-dollar project, and volunteering when I can—I'm swamped."
"Cut it out," Zhao Dacheng snorted. "You already handed Wenchuan over to others. As for your so-called volunteering, you just show up to swipe lunch boxes."
Dacheng quickly changed the subject. "Where's sister-in-law?"
"She's busy with the handover at Tianlong. Soon she'll be at the National Academy," Zhao Dong explained.
"That's perfect," Dacheng grinned. "Leave Qiaoqiao with Mom. Come out with me tonight—the company's hosting a party."
"I'm not interested in your entertainment circle," Zhao Dong waved him off.
"You don't need to do anything. Just eat, drink, and chat. Didn't you tell me to guide the entertainment industry with positive energy? I've been working on it. Made them study Mao's works every day. Whoever scores highest gets a film project."
Zhao Dong burst out laughing. The thought of a group of celebrities cramming Mao's works was too absurd.
Eventually, persuaded by his mother, Zhao Dong agreed to go with Dacheng. Though as he teased his daughter before leaving, Qiaoqiao gazed at him so intently—as if reading his soul—that he almost regretted stepping out.
---
The brothers arrived at a hotel, where a large crowd of stars and directors had already gathered. This wasn't just a company party—it was a social gathering of Beijing's cultural and entertainment circle.
Because of his status, Zhao Dong instantly became the center of attention. Even though his NFL career had been short and his games weren't televised in China, he remained a national sports icon, one of the country's wealthiest figures, and husband to a woman of immense influence. Add in his eldest brother's dominance in the entertainment industry, and every star in the room felt awkward around him.
Zhao Dong's table was reserved for the heavyweights—Wang Su, Chen Kaige, and Zhang Yimou.
After exchanging pleasantries, Zhao Dong turned to Zhang Yimou.
"Director Zhang, how are preparations for the Athens Olympics' closing ceremony coming along?"
"Almost finished," Zhang Yimou replied with a polite smile.
Zhao Dong leaned back, then glanced at Chen Kaige. "And what about the 2008 Beijing Olympics? Interested in directing the opening ceremony?"
As soon as Zhao Dong brought up the 2008 Beijing Olympics, both Chen Kaige and Zhang Yimou's eyes lit up. Their excitement was obvious—they were very interested.
Just then, Wu Jing came over with a tall glass of wine and grinned.
"Zhao Dong, this glass is a sincere toast to you."
Zhao Dong raised a brow. "Toast to me? I'm just an idle man these days."
Wu Jing replied, "Idle? Hardly. Just on the contributions you and Mrs. Lindsay have made to the country, you deserve a toast. I'll drink it all—whether you finish yours is up to you."
With that, Wu Jing tipped back the glass, downing nearly half a catty of liquor in one gulp.
Zhao Dong smiled, lifted his own glass, let it touch his lips… then set it right back down.
Wu Jing froze. "You're not drinking?"
"Do you think I don't know you're trying to get me drunk?" Zhao Dong shot back, his tone flat.
Caught, Wu Jing chuckled awkwardly.
Zhao Dacheng immediately scowled. "Wu Jing, you dare try to force my brother to drink?"
"No, no, of course not! How would I dare?" Wu Jing waved his hands and hurried away. His plan had failed—he wanted Zhao Dong to open with one heavy drink so others could pressure him into more. But Zhao Dong wasn't that easy to trap.
---
After Wu Jing left, several celebrities came over to toast, including the Four Little Flowers. Zhao Dong dealt with them politely but coolly. He only touched his lips to the glass each time, refusing to actually drink.
His brother leaned in and whispered, "Brother, why didn't you even acknowledge Zhao Wei? She's as famous as the Four Flowers, one of the hottest stars right now."
Zhao Dong snorted. "Do I need to give her face? Have you forgotten what happened back in 2001? Don't bother making excuses for her. She waved the plaster flag—didn't she?"
"…Fair enough," Zhao Dacheng muttered, dropping the matter. Truth be told, he wasn't fond of Zhao Wei either. She was attached to Wang Yu, one of the so-called 'Four Young Masters of Beijing.' But compared to the Zhao family, even Wang Yu's powerful father couldn't protect her.
Dacheng sneered inwardly. Young masters? They don't even dare call themselves that to our faces. What are those clowns compared to us?
—
At another table, a group of young actresses sat together: Zhang Ziyi, Zhao Wei, and others. Their attention shifted to Liu Yifei.
"Liu Yifei, this is your chance. Why don't you go toast him?" one of them teased.
"Yeah, you both live on Long Island in the States. Haven't you met him before?" another added.
"I don't dare," Liu Yifei said softly. "He's smiling now, but in America… he was terrifying."
The others leaned in.
"I saw him once, when I first arrived in New York. That was the year he won his first NBA championship. The Knicks held a joint parade out on Long Island. The entire place was cheering his name—it was unforgettable."
"That counts as meeting him? Please," Zhao Wei mocked. "If that's the case, then everyone in New York has 'met' him. Unless you actually spoke to him, it doesn't count."
The jab hit hard. Liu Yifei blushed and fell silent, lowering her head.
Xu Jinglei asked, "I heard you were waiting for immigration papers. Almost finished?"
Liu Yifei quickly shook her head. "No. My mother withdrew the application two years ago."
"Why?"
"…She said since Zhao Dong and his wife have such high status in America but still don't immigrate, then we don't need to either. She said China's development is good. Honestly, I just listen to her."
The table erupted with laughter.
"So obedient to your mom."
"A real mama's girl."
"They're the red family's third generation, second-gen officials. Of course they don't need to immigrate. How can you compare to them?"
Their words stung. Liu Yifei's eyes reddened as tears welled up.
---
Meanwhile, Zhao Dong had had enough of the suffocating atmosphere. After about an hour, he asked his brother for the car keys.
"Already leaving? Fine, go on. Go back to being your nanny," Dacheng teased.
As Zhao Dong walked toward the exit, he passed Liu Yifei's table—and stopped.
"Hey, girl, why are you crying?" he asked casually.
The entire hall fell silent. All eyes locked on Zhao Dong and the actresses.
"N-no, it's nothing," Liu Yifei stammered, trying to hide her tears.
Zhao Dong's gaze swept over the table. Calm, sharp, unflinching. The actresses who mocked her immediately dropped their eyes, not daring to meet his stare.
"You," Zhao Dong pointed at Liu Yifei, "go sit at that table."
"Ah?" Liu Yifei froze.
The table he meant was where Beijing's true heavyweights sat—the very circle first-line stars struggled to enter.
"Go," Zhao Dong said again, firm and unquestionable. Then he turned and left without waiting for a reply.
Everyone stared, stunned.
"Liu Yifei, come here," Xu Qing quickly waved her over, eager to ride Zhao Dong's lingering presence.
Trembling, Liu Yifei moved and carefully sat down next to Xu Qing.
"Do you know Zhao Dong?" Xu Qing whispered.
"No, no," Liu Yifei shook her head quickly, terrified of any misunderstanding. Everyone in America knew not to cross Mrs. Lindsay.
Xu Qing relaxed, and so did Dacheng. They didn't believe Zhao Dong had any interest anyway—he'd never once stepped out of line in marriage.
But those who had mocked Liu Yifei earlier now regretted it bitterly. Watching her sit at the table with Beijing's most powerful figures, they seethed with envy.
---
End of Chapter
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