Lian Dao stepped forward and pressed a red button on a box resembling Pandora's, perched atop a display stand. The mysterious box had piqued curiosity all evening. As he pressed the button, it slowly opened, revealing the LD-1 and LD-1 limited-edition sneakers to the crowd.
The two pairs, distinct in style, dazzled under the lights. The limited edition, with Lian Dao's NCAA championship trophy image on the heel, felt legendary, less a sneaker and more a tribute to his NCAA triumph. The heel also featured Lian Dao in his USC No. 1 jersey, hoisting the trophy, paired with his Knicks No. 1 silhouette dunking from the free-throw line, symbolizing his meteoric rise.
The crowd yearned to own a pair. Anta announced the shoes would hit shelves immediately after the press conference, prompting fans to lock onto Anta's website via their phones, poised to buy. Some, wary of slow mobile networks, called friends to purchase from computers.
As Lian Dao signed autographs for fans, the press conference wrapped up. Chaos erupted post-event. Just three minutes later, backstage buzzed with news: the limited-edition sneakers had sold out. Anta's staff, stunned then ecstatic, celebrated with hugs. The rapid sales signaled a triumphant launch.
The LD-1's standard version also sold briskly, fueled by Lian Dao's star power and the shoe's affordable $126 price. In China, sales were even hotter, with domestic fans outpacing U.S. buyers due to faster internet speeds.
After the event, Lian Dao returned to his residence, trailed by a commercial vehicle delivering his sneakers: three limited-edition pairs (numbered 1, 1215, and 311) and 30 standard LD-1s, the first batch of more to come. The first two numbers were symbolic, while 311, tailored to his junior sister Guo Yuwei's foot size, marked her birthday. Lian Dao had pitched the idea to Anta.
Handing Guo Yuwei the No. 311 pair, Lian Dao watched her eyes light up at the personalized code and size. Overwhelmed, she leapt onto him, arms around his neck, legs wrapping his waist like a koala, and planted a long kiss.
Later, Lian Dao slipped into an LD-1 pair and headed to his villa's indoor training hall. After an exhausting day, Madison Square Garden's training facility felt too far, and with no team practice scheduled, home was just as good. Testing the sneakers, he found them a marked improvement over Anta's earlier models, a testament to the brand's dedication, which later fueled its global expansion.
Meanwhile, U.S. fans vented online, frustrated at missing the limited-edition LD-1s. Pages loaded, payments stalled, and stock vanished, a disappearing act that baffled them. Chinese netizens, scaling digital walls, flaunted their successful orders on U.S. social media, rubbing salt in the wound.
On January 11, the Knicks faced the Oklahoma City Thunder. Lian Dao arrived early, gifting LD-1s in various sizes to his teammates. The players marveled at the design and praised Anta's technology after trying them on. Rookies like Jrue Holiday and Tony Douglas, without sneaker deals, typically received 12 Nike-sponsored pairs per season, enough for half a season at three to seven games per pair. Beyond that, worn-out shoes risked injury, forcing players to buy replacements. Lian Dao's gift was a game-changer.
Holiday and Douglas envied Lian Dao's milestone. Few players get signature sneakers, yet Lian Dao, barely into his rookie season, had launched a hit. Media buzz, including a New York Times report, amplified the frenzy: limited-edition LD-1s sold out in three minutes, second-hand prices soared, and Lian Dao's commercial value skyrocketed.
Nike's management reviewed LD-1 sales projections and gasped. They'd underestimated Lian Dao's market pull, regretting their conservative offer during contract talks. Still, they remained unfazed by Anta's U.S. entry. With Kobe, LeBron, Durant, and the lucrative Air Jordan line, Nike's dominance seemed secure.
Lian Dao ignored the noise, focusing on the Thunder game in Oklahoma. The Knicks hadn't faced the Thunder this season, making it a highly anticipated clash. U.S. media hyped the matchup: Lian Dao, a rookie sensation, had led the Knicks to a 25-11 record, their best in years. Kevin Durant, in his third year, had guided the Thunder to 20-16, breaking through the West's gauntlet.
The Thunder's roster, bolstered by James Harden's arrival as a dynamic sixth man, outshone the Knicks' on paper. Before Harden, the Thunder's core was Durant, Jeff Green, and Russell Westbrook. Harden's breakout season replaced Green in the trio, earning him a spot as the new third pillar.
On game day, Durant drained mid-range jumpers with robotic precision, his stoic face masking a burning desire. After half a season, he'd finally face Lian Dao, eager to test the rookie praised by all. Harden, however, was distracted, mulling over Lian Dao's LD-1s. Their sleek design impressed him, but he wondered if a free pair was too small a gesture. Maybe Lian Dao could treat him to a nightclub in New York, where the scene pulsed with beautiful women and all-night revelry, far livelier than Oklahoma's tame offerings.
"James, James," Durant called, shaking Harden's shoulders.
"Huh? What's up?" Harden snapped back, blinking at Durant.
"What're you thinking? You're drooling," Durant teased, eyeing him suspiciously.
Harden flushed, touching his mouth. "Huh? No way!"
Durant chuckled at Harden's flustered reaction, amused by his teammate's daydreams.