Los Angeles Westside. The middle floor of a sleek modern office building.
Andrew sat at his desk, sorting through a stack of client files. He'd leased a few rooms here to handle the growing side of the business. A small plaque hung on the door: Andrew John Agency & Co. Ltd.
The company had launched midway through the season after he and Link hashed out the plan together. They wanted to build something bigger in the NBA's commercial world. It was still small, but the structure was solid.
Besides Andrew as owner and lead agent, he'd brought on a sharp lawyer for contracts and legal work, a branding and marketing manager, a PR and media specialist, and one assistant. Everything centered on player contracts, endorsements, and image management. Link's success story was their best calling card.
The phone on his desk rang.
Andrew grabbed the receiver without looking up. "Andrew John Agency. How can I help you?"
"Hello, Mr. John. This is Chen Ming, Yi Jianlian's liaison from China."
Andrew straightened in his chair, pen freezing mid-stroke. Yi Jianlian. He knew the name well. Link had mentioned him more than once. For months, the team had been tracking 2007 draft prospects, and the big Chinese forward sat high on every list—a projected lottery pick.
"Mr. Chen, good to hear from you," Andrew said, voice professional but warm. "What can I do for you?"
"Yi is getting ready for the NBA Draft," Chen Ming said, his English carrying a light Cantonese accent. "I've looked into you. You represent Link now—handling his deals and off-court business. Link's influence back home is growing fast. That says a lot."
"Thank you. That's the team's work," Andrew replied with a smile, already running the angles in his head. Yi reaching out first was a strong signal. A high-upside prospect with a massive built-in market.
Chen Ming got straight to it. "I'll be direct, Mr. John. We'd like to talk about working together on Yi's NBA career."
"I'm listening," Andrew said, pulse ticking up.
"We've had some interest," Chen Ming continued. "Bill Duffy, Dan Fegan, Leon Rose—they've all reached out."
Andrew let out a quiet whistle. Those were the heavy hitters, guys who'd repped superstars and had connections everywhere. Compared to them, Andrew's shop looked tiny.
"But Yi wants someone who actually understands both the NBA business side and the Chinese market," Chen Ming said. "You're one of the very few agents who checks both boxes right now."
Andrew nodded to himself. That was true—Bill Duffy had the Yao Ming blueprint, but his fees were steep, often north of ten percent.
"I hear you," Andrew said, leaning in. "We're a small outfit, but that means we're focused. We'll give Yi everything we've got."
Chen Ming paused, then added, "Yi would like to meet with you and Link before the draft if that works."
"Of course," Andrew said without hesitation. "I'll set it up."
"Great. We'll see you in Los Angeles," Chen Ming said, and the line went dead.
Andrew hung up, a rush of adrenaline hitting him. Landing Yi Jianlian would be the real breakout for the agency—proof they could compete in a cutthroat market.
He clapped his hands and called the whole team into the conference room. "Listen up, people. Big client opportunity."
He set a recorder in the middle of the table and played back the call. When it finished, he laid it out plain. "We have a shot at Yi Jianlian. Lottery talent with huge Chinese market pull. But Duffy, Fegan, Rose—they're all circling."
"Our edge is clear," Andrew said, tapping the table. "We're small, so we move fast and stay personal. We understand what Asian players go through—Link's living proof. We need a tight pitch hitting every detail: draft prep, team fit, city fit, quick adaptation support, the works."
The lawyer adjusted his glasses. "Contract strategy and long-term planning have to be rock-solid."
The branding guy jumped in. "We should push cities with real growth potential, not just the highest pick."
"And a small, reliable support crew for the transition," the PR woman added.
The meeting ran two hours. The whiteboard filled with bullet points. Andrew wrapped it up. "Core message: we're small, but our service is elite. Most of our energy goes straight to Yi. And we get the unique challenges Asian players face because we've already done it with Link. Bring every result we've delivered for him to that meeting."
Later that evening, Andrew found Link still grinding extra shots in the practice gym.
"Got some news," Andrew said, tossing him a water bottle.
Link wiped sweat from his face. "Yeah?"
"Yi Jianlian's team called today. They're interested in working with us."
Link's hand paused on the towel, a grin spreading. "That's solid. Kid's got real talent. He just needs the right plan and guidance."
"Exactly," Andrew said, watching him. "And they're coming because of what you've done. This would be our first real outside client—and a high-end one."
Link took a long drink, eyes thoughtful. "Andrew, this is just the start. Think bigger. Free agents, rookies, international guys with upside, vets who need a reset—you can touch all of it."
He turned, serious. "Build it into a real brand. I've got your back. If you need me to show up, make calls, whatever—just say the word."
Andrew met his eyes and nodded hard. "I got it. We'll make Yi the flagship. You focus on the playoffs. Everything else, we handle."