Chapter 28

Before Michael Jordan had a chance to introduce Yang Mo to 'Lu', Lu took the initiative to speak up: "Mr. Jordan, I no longer want to do the assistant job. I believe my abilities are sufficient to take on the role of the head of the agency department. I am a graduate from an Ivy League school, and if I continue to work as a mere assistant, my classmates will mock me."

Lu's assertive statement left Michael Jordan somewhat awkward. He glanced at his executive assistant, who shrugged helplessly, clearly at a loss for what to do.

"Yes, you are very capable, but... your age..."

Before Michael Jordan could say more, Lu impatiently interrupted him and forcefully handed him an A4 paper: "This is my resignation letter. I quit."

With that, she turned and left.

Yang Mo watched her leave, admiring her boldness and individuality: This girl is so cool and has such a strong personality. She actually quit her job so straightforwardly, and her boss is Michael Jordan.

Seeing Lu walk away without looking back, Michael Jordan stood there, awkwardly laughing and patting Yang Mo's shoulder, apologizing: "Sorry, my employee embarrassed you."

"No, no. I think she has a strong personality," Yang Mo expressed his admiration straightforwardly.

"She is truly an exception. The Chinese girls I've met before were all very reserved. Has something happened in your country?" Michael Jordan asked curiously.

"I don't know what has happened, but it might be due to the imbalance in the gender ratio, which has led to women becoming more independent and assertive," Yang Mo shrugged, somewhat helplessly.

"Oh, that's terrible," Michael Jordan patted his head, regretfully saying: "No man would like a woman who is above him, right?"

"That's a philosophical question," Yang Mo said thoughtfully.

"Ha ha! You are really funny," Michael Jordan laughed, putting his arm around Yang Mo's shoulder and whispering: "Alright, let's settle this. I will pick you in the late first round. This is my promise to you. Don't tell anyone, or the league will think we have a private agreement."

"Understood, I understand," Yang Mo nodded, troubled. He no longer had to worry about not being selected by any team. Now, two teams had given him promises, one being the basketball god Michael Jordan, and the other offering a rookie contract that was hard to refuse.

After nodding, Yang Mo said, "Well, I'll go to training now."

"Bye, relax and enjoy these two beautiful days," Michael Jordan waved to Yang Mo, now considering him a part of the Charlotte Bobcats.

Yang Mo politely waved back and quickly left the coffee shop.

After Yang Mo left, Jordan's assistant approached, looking grim and asked Michael, "Boss, are you really going to sign this kid?"

"Why not?" Michael Jordan shrugged, looking as if it was a given.

Jordan paused, staring at the resignation letter in his hand, and said sternly, "What happened with Lu? How could you let such a talented person resign without doing proper psychological work?"

"I..."

"I'll give you two days to resolve this," Jordan said, handing the resignation letter to Clayton and quickly leaving.

Clayton, holding the resignation letter, felt a surge of frustration: "F**k, you Chinese always cause trouble."

Clayton cursed in his heart, while the two people he cursed met at a corridor next to the training camp. At that moment, Lu was squatting on the steps, sobbing, while Yang Mo stood beside her, patiently waiting to see how long this assertive girl would cry.

Yang Mo stood for about ten minutes, but the girl hadn't stopped crying. Instead, she looked up and shouted at him in Chinese, "What are you looking at? Have you never seen a beautiful woman cry? Are basketball players so great? You're all a bunch of muscle-bound, brainless idiots."

Yang Mo laughed at this. He smiled and said, "Are you cursing Michael Jordan or me?"

"Both!" Lu gritted her teeth, fiercely saying, "You basketball players are all idiots."

"Hey, you're being a bit too harsh," Yang Mo squatted down, correcting her: "You should say most basketball players are idiots, not all. For example, I am very smart."

"Hmph." Lu snorted, somewhat disdainfully, "How are you smart? I don't see it."

"If I make a decision now, you'll definitely think I'm smart," Yang Mo deliberately provoked her.

"What?" Lu looked up, puzzled.

"By hiring you as my agent," Yang Mo shrugged, "Didn't you say you graduated from an Ivy League school? Didn't you say your abilities are enough to be the head of the Charlotte Bobcats' agency department? I think hiring you as my agent would be a good deal."

"Hmph, you have a bit of wit," Lu wiped her tears, finally stopping her crying. She stopped sobbing, dried her tears, and resumed her assertive demeanor, "I'll tell you, my commission isn't cheap."

"Besides the NBA contract, I'll give you 8% of all other commercial sponsorships," Yang Mo said with a smile.

"No, that's too low. Top agents take 30%."

"How about this: for each commercial contract, I'll give you a base price. Whatever premium you can negotiate above that base price, I'll split the extra amount with you 50-50. If you have confidence in your abilities, I think you'll choose the second option," Yang Mo deliberately challenged her.

Yang Mo's challenge worked, and Lu thought for a moment, asking, "What if you overprice it?"

"Don't worry, I'll base it on their offers. We can include this in the contract."

"Alright, let's sign the contract," Lu stood up, extending her hand to Yang Mo, introducing herself, "My name is Lu Xue Man. From today, you are my player. I will package you comprehensively and make you the next Yao Ming."

"Thank you for your trouble," Yang Mo shook her hand briefly.

"By the way, you will be selected, right? If no one picks you in the draft, I'll be disappointed."

"Didn't you see how your former boss praised me?" Yang Mo chuckled, "You draft the contract, and I'll sign it once I confirm it's correct."

"Alright, give me your phone number. I'll call you when it's ready."

After exchanging phone numbers, Yang Mo headed to the training hall, wanting to practice his three-point shots. The shooting coach in Miami had taught him some useful techniques, and now he felt his shooting was much more accurate.

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