That same night, the Trail Blazers outlasted the Suns, taking the series and punching their ticket to the Western Conference Finals.
After a day's rest, on May 17, the remaining second-round battles were decided. The Bulls eliminated the Pacers 4-2, while Portland sent Phoenix packing, finalizing the final four.
The matchups were set:
Eastern Conference Finals: Knicks vs. Bulls, starting May 19.
Western Conference Finals: Lakers vs. Trail Blazers, tipping off May 20.
"Damn, how many times have we faced the Bulls in the Eastern Finals?"
Zhao Dong tossed the towel over his shoulder and leaned back in his locker.
"Jordan's retired, and yet the Bulls still won't leave us alone?" he muttered, shaking his head with a half-smile.
May 18 – NYC, 9:00 AM
The NBA made it official.
Zhao Dong was named MVP of the regular season for the third consecutive year—and this time, the vote was unanimous.
At noon, the Chicago Bulls landed in New York.
Meanwhile, Zhao Dong was at the airport for another reason—seeing off Wang Zhizhi and his family. Like Yao Ming, he was headed back to China early to rest before rejoining the national team ahead of the Olympics.
As Zhao Dong helped load their luggage, a buzz erupted near the parking lot. Reporters swarmed around another arriving figure—Michael Jordan.
With the Mavericks eliminated, the legend had come to watch the Eastern Conference Finals.
---
"Michael, between the Knicks and Bulls, who do you want to see in the Finals?"
Jordan smirked, giving a practiced nod. "I just want a competitive series like we saw in the second round."
"Do you think Zhao Dong is the best scorer in league history?"
Jordan paused for half a second, then nodded. "The numbers speak for themselves. What he did in that last series—both the efficiency and the volume—it's something we've never seen before. He's the most terrifying scorer in NBA history."
"Oh, speaking of which—there's Zhao Dong right now!"
A reporter pointed, and all eyes turned. Zhao Dong gave a helpless sigh. There was no escaping the media today.
He joined Jordan, the two standing shoulder to shoulder like titans of two eras.
---
"Zhao Dong, you're facing the Bulls again in the Conference Finals. Any thoughts?"
Zhao Dong laughed and threw his hands up. "Man, again? I'm starting to think the Bulls are stalking us."
The reporters burst into laughter. Even Jordan grinned, shaking his head.
"Zhao, not gonna ask you if you're confident—that's obvious. But do you think the Bulls actually have a shot at stopping the Knicks?"
Zhao Dong scratched his chin, then said calmly, "Let me put it this way: facing the Bulls is easier than facing Philly."
"Why's that?"
"We're not at a disadvantage in the paint," Zhao Dong said with a smile, then walked off with Jordan, ending the impromptu media scrum.
---
Same Day – Bulls' Hotel, NYC
The Bulls held a press conference to kick off their trip. Owner Jerry Reinsdorf and returning GM Jerry Krause were both present. The front office had its own story arc.
After Jordan's retirement and Phil Jackson's departure, Krause had been brought back to stabilize the ship. Surprisingly, interim coach Tim Floyd, expected to merely guide a rebuilding team, had led them to the Eastern Conference Finals.
Of course, the real glue in the locker room wasn't Floyd—it was Charles Oakley, whose veteran presence kept the young core from imploding.
"Mr. Krause, has this team found a new core?" asked a reporter from the New York Sports Daily.
Krause smiled smoothly. "We don't have a new core. Our core's been clear all along—this is a dual-core team. Tracy McGrady and Rasheed Wallace lead us inside and out."
"Is it true there's been internal conflict in the locker room?"
Krause chuckled, deflecting. "Not at all. We've got one of the most respected veterans in the league, Charles Oakley. Under his leadership, our locker room is steady."
McGrady and Wallace exchanged glances, thinking the same thing: Respected? More like feared.
Another reporter jumped in. "Charles, we spoke with Zhao Dong earlier. He said the Knicks won't be at a disadvantage in the paint when facing you guys. Thoughts?"
Oakley scoffed. "Tell Zhao he better not try to avoid me. I'll make sure his teammates feel it."
"Charles, the Knicks' identity seems to have shifted. Their defense in the last round wasn't as strong, but their offense exploded. What do you make of that?"
Oakley sighed. "The old crew's gone. When the core changes, the style follows. That's just how it is."
Suddenly, the back of the room stirred.
---
"Oh—it's Zhao Dong and Jordan?!"
Reporters turned en masse. Sure enough, the two legends had walked in, drawing the attention of every camera.
Jordan had come to catch up with Reinsdorf. Zhao Dong was just looking for the Knicks' team bus… but both now found themselves in the middle of a live press event
"Here to crash the party?" Rasheed Wallace muttered.
McGrady stayed quiet, knowing better than to mouth off around those two. He glanced sideways at Wallace, silently thinking, Say it louder if you're brave.
Zhao Dong fielded a few questions before spotting Oakley and calling out, "Charles! Let's go."
Oakley stood. "We're still in the middle of a press conference, you know."
Zhao Dong grinned. "You guys are going to lose anyway—what's left to talk about?"
"…."
Oakley was speechless.
Just then, the team bus pulled up outside. Zhao Dong, Oakley, and Cuttino Mobley stepped out of the room together.
Mobley gave Zhao Dong a respectful nod. "Boss."
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. "What, no bosses in Chicago?"
Mobley scratched the back of his head. "Feels better calling you that."
Oakley laughed. "Kid, you're not as dumb as I thought."
Zhao Dong clapped Mobley on the back. "Stick with me, Cutino. I'll make sure you get paid."
Mobley's eyes lit up. "For real?!"
They all laughed, heading out into the New York afternoon.
---
Later That Day – On the Water
Zhao Dong took Oakley, Mobley, and Daba (Rodney Rogers) out to the Hudson River on a rented yacht.
The four spent the afternoon relaxing, joking, and taking in the breeze.
As the sun began to dip, Oakley turned serious. "Zhao, what's up with Fordson? Can't he suit up?"
Zhao Dong's expression turned grim. "He's lost two steps. No bounce, no explosion. Can't take contact. His knees… they're done."
Oakley shook his head. "That's rough. I've seen that movie before—like what happened to Larry Johnson, just worse. And it's a contract year, too. Kid's cursed."
Zhao Dong nodded quietly. "He won't get re-signed. Not here."
---
May 19 – Tip-off Approaches
The stage was set at Madison Square Garden.
Game 1 – Eastern Conference Finals
Starting Lineups:
Chicago Bulls
PF: Charles Oakley
C: Rasheed Wallace
SF: Tracy McGrady
SG: Cuttino Mobley
PG: Jason Kidd
New York Knicks
PF: Zhao Dong
C: Willis
SF: Rodney Rogers
SG: Jerry Stackhouse
PG: Manu Ginobili
On live broadcast, the pregame panel was buzzing.
Charles Barkley, relaxed and confident, leaned toward the camera. "Zhao Dong told reporters yesterday that the Knicks don't have any interior disadvantage against the Bulls. And honestly? He's not wrong."
He smiled slyly.
"When you look at the starting bigs—Oakley and Rasheed Wallace on one side, Zhao Dong and Willis on the other—the Bulls might be better defensively, but offensively? It's all Knicks. So yeah, I'd say it's pretty even in the paint."
Kenny Smith nodded in agreement. "Both teams can stretch the floor from the frontcourt, which means this game's gonna be heavy on perimeter movement and blow-by drives. Don't expect a slow-paced, back-to-the-basket game. We'll see plenty of attacks off the dribble."
Barkley added, "Defensively, the Bulls are tough—Oakley, Rasheed, T-Mac, Kidd, even Mobley's decent on the perimeter. Knicks? Rogers is their weak link, but the rest? Solid. And let's not forget, just because the Knicks gave up more points last series doesn't mean they lost their defense. Without Fordson, yeah, the system's strained. But it's still there."
He leaned in again.
"And let me tell you—Rasheed and Oakley might be good defenders, but they're not stopping Zhao Dong. If the Bulls don't throw double teams at him early, we could see a 70 or 80-point night. I'm dead serious."
Smith chuckled. "So who you picking, Chuck?"
Barkley didn't hesitate. "The guy averaging 50+ in the playoffs. The top scorer in history. The Bulls front line's getting killed. Simple."
---
Player Tunnel – Madison Square Garden
The energy buzzed as the teams lined up, ready to enter the court.
Rasheed Wallace stood stiff, glaring at Zhao Dong like a fuse waiting for flame. The frustration from yesterday's press conference was still burning.
Zhao, stretching casually, noticed the stare and raised an eyebrow.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
"You'll see," Rasheed grunted.
Zhao gave a lopsided grin. "You seem irritated. You mad about something?"
"Why should I respect you?" Wallace snapped.
Zhao smirked, glancing over at Oakley. "With that attitude? You think this guy is gonna lead the Bulls? Come on, Oak. You sure about this one?"
Oakley sighed. "Zhao, give me a break. Don't make a scene before the opening tip."
"Relax," Zhao said with a chuckle. "I won't cause trouble. I'll just drop 50 on him and let the scoreboard do the talking."
"You're dreaming!" Rasheed growled.
Oakley didn't intervene. A lesson from Zhao might do Rasheed some good.
"Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
The crowd inside Madison Square Garden roared as the Knicks starters were introduced. Zhao Dong emerged to an ovation loud enough to shake the banners in the rafters.
After his second-round explosion, his popularity in New York had reached mythic levels. An ocean of Knicks jerseys, 80% bearing his name, flooded the stands.
Tip-off. 8:00 PM sharp.
The ball was tossed high. Rasheed Wallace leapt first, arms flailing, but Zhao Dong got there quicker—faster elevation, sharper timing—and slapped it to Ginobili.
"The Knicks win the tip! And—wait—Zhao Dong's bringing the ball up?"
Marv Albert's voice rang across NBC's broadcast.
Doug Collins added, "Looks like New York's opening with Zhao at the top. And it's man-to-man coverage from the Bulls."
As Zhao crossed halfcourt, the Knicks spaced the floor. Even Willis stayed out near the perimeter, pulling Oakley with him. Rasheed guarded Zhao at the arc—alone.
Zhao gave a small fake.
Then exploded.
A blur past Wallace, slicing straight down the lane, untouched. The paint was empty. No help. No second body.
BOOM!
He rose and hammered a two-handed dunk over the rim, rattling the backboard like a thunderclap.
Zhang Heli shouted from Chinese broadcast, "The Bulls can't play man-to-man! There's not a single player in this league who can guard Zhao Dong one-on-one. Rasheed Wallace is strong, but not strong enough. He's giving up inches and bounce!"
On TNT, Barkley laughed. "If Chicago keeps this up, Zhao might hang 80 tonight. No exaggeration."
Smith grinned. "Guess the Bulls think they can take him straight up. They'll learn fast."
---
Back on the court, Zhao jogged back on defense, casually glancing at Wallace.
"Were you guarding me just now?" he said with mock confusion. "Couldn't see you there."
Wallace's face flushed red. "You'll see me next time."
Bulls' Possession
The Knicks dropped into a 2-1-2 zone—Zhao in the middle, Willis and Rogers covering the baseline, Stackhouse and Ginobili up top.
Jason Kidd brought it up, quickly hounded by Stack and Ginobili. He kicked to Mobley on the wing.
Ginobili recovered fast, but Mobley faked, drove past him, and rose for a mid-range jumper—only to see Zhao Dong step out to contest.
Clang!
The shot bricked off the iron. Willis snagged the rebound and hit Zhao with the outlet.
Zhao jogged it back up, slowing the tempo. The Bulls had now switched to a mixed defense, with Rasheed shadowing him while the other four played zone.
Barkley analyzed live, "That's not pure man or zone. It's a hybrid—Rasheed follows Zhao, while the rest collapse when he drives. Trying to plug the paint without giving up shooters."
At the arc, Zhao bounced the ball casually. Time ticked down—20 seconds.
Then, one move.
A burst forward. Rasheed stepped back in anticipation.
But Zhao pulled it back, stepped behind the arc—and let it fly.
"SWISH!"
Pure.
He turned with a deadpan face and called out, "Come on, at least try to contest. I hate shooting on air."
Wallace's jaw clenched.
---
Next Bulls Possession
Mobley cut right. Kidd faked a pass that pulled Stackhouse and Ginobili out of position. Then—no look—he whipped it to the left wing.
McGrady had already cut inside. He caught it in stride, took one step, and launched toward the rim.
Willis and Rogers were a step behind.
But Zhao wasn't.
From below the free-throw line, Zhao turned, took a single step—then jumped.
BOOM!
McGrady cocked back for a tomahawk.
But just as he rose—Zhao Dong's hand met the ball mid-air.
CRACK!
The crowd exploded as the ball was knocked into orbit. Rogers collected it. Knicks ball.
"Can I see your defense now?" Zhao called back at Rasheed, walking it up.
"Stop being so arrogant!" Wallace barked.
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