Chapter Eighteen: Mischief

“Get in touch with He for me right away—I hope it’s not too late,” said the renowned NBA agent Leon Rose to his assistant, heaving a silent sigh.

He had noticed Xinghui He after his game against the Heat—a rookie with a unique style, plenty of buzz, and no shortage of potential. Back then, Leon had wanted to reach out and sign him immediately. But with so many players under his management and a mountain of tasks on his plate, he let it slip. At the time, Leon hadn’t thought much of the delay—a few days shouldn’t matter, he figured.

He could never have imagined that Xinghui He would suddenly deliver a game so sensational it rocked the league and drew everyone’s attention to him at once. Now, Leon knew signing He would be anything but easy.

“Boss, his phone’s off,” the assistant reported helplessly.

Meanwhile, countless high-profile agents were also failing to reach Xinghui He. Instead, it was a complete unknown—Mark Collins—who now sat across from He.

Mark was not more resourceful than the established agents; he was simply more diligent and focused. After He’s game against the Lakers, Mark took notice, discovered He was unrepresented, and immediately set to work. Only today did he finally track down He’s address, tail him across town, and manage to secure this meeting.

“He, let me introduce myself, I’m…” Mark began, speaking quickly, barely able to contain his nervousness and anxious that He might lose patience before he could finish. “I’d like to be your agent…”

“Alright,” He replied before Mark had finished.

He didn’t have particular requirements for an agent—it didn’t have to be a big name. Though the man before him was now obscure, his persistence and initiative in tracking him down showed grit and drive.

“Alright?” Mark was stunned.

He had imagined countless reasons for being refused and rehearsed responses to each. Yet he had no need for any of them—He had simply agreed, leaving Mark in utter disbelief.

“Of course—just as long as you agree to one condition,” He added.

Seeing the man’s awkwardness, He couldn’t resist toying with him a little.

“No problem, name it,” Mark replied, his face plastered with a hopeful smile. As long as he could sign Xinghui He, he’d accept any terms. If he failed to sign an NBA player soon, he’d be out of work and out of money. In Mark’s mind, He’s conditions would be nothing more than a lower commission or more say in future transfers—things big agents might care about, but Mark couldn’t afford to.

“Actually, from the moment I first saw you, my heart started racing. I felt something special,” He said, mimicking the nervous, conflicted tone of a man coming out. “Of course, I’m not gay. Even in a free country like this one, I know being gay isn’t truly accepted. What’s your view on homosexuality?”

He’s performance was convincing—he truly had a talent for acting. Mark was thoroughly taken in by the display.

Mark’s eyes went wide as saucers; he never imagined he’d stumble upon such explosive gossip. Given He’s current fame, a headline like “Xinghui He is Gay” would easily sell for ten thousand dollars.

Even more alarming was the implication in He’s words—a hint of casting-couch intentions. Reading between the lines, Mark’s heart nearly broke. He realized that if he wanted to be He’s agent, he’d have to submit to him.

Thousands of wild, stampeding thoughts crashed through Mark’s mind. As a straight man, the mere idea of letting He stand behind him made him want to vomit.

“What’s with that look? Are you prejudiced against gays?” He feigned irritation.

“No, no, not at all,” Mark hurried to explain. “I absolutely respect everyone’s orientation. As you said, this is a free country.”

“So, you’re okay with it?” He asked with a grin.

“I—I—I…” Mark felt like crying. He couldn’t bear to lose this opportunity, but he simply couldn’t accept such a situation.

“Hahaha, I was just joking. Relax—I’m a red-blooded man, love nothing more than curvy women. Did you bring the contract? I can sign it right now.”

Seeing Mark about to agree, He cut the prank short just in time.

“What?” Mark nearly threw out his back at the sudden turn, but then breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was grateful he hadn’t blurted out an answer a second sooner.

“Hey, relax. Don’t you Americans love pranks? I was just messing with you,” He said, repeating himself to reassure Mark.

But the more He explained, the more suspicious Mark became. He wasn’t a virgin—he’d dated women before—and he knew that some people liked to confess their feelings as a joke and back off if things went wrong. Right now, He seemed exactly that type.

“Could He really be gay?” Mark shivered again as the goosebumps returned.

Regardless, Mark pulled out the contract. He’d decided—he’d stick with He until the day he couldn’t take it anymore. If He ever tried anything, he’d just resign.

The contract was standard for the industry; only the numbers needed to be filled in. He made no demands, but Mark, wanting to show his sincerity—or perhaps to avoid owing He too much—set his commission at just one percent for salary and ten percent for endorsements, both very low.

He signed, then shook Mark’s hand.

Mark tried to appear calm, but inside he was a mess. The moment their hands met, he shuddered.

As He walked away, Mark watched his retreating figure and sighed, “It’s not easy being a man. If a woman suffers workplace harassment, she can call the police. If I tried, they’d never believe me.”

Still, if he had to do it all over again, he’d make the same choice. After all, this was money—and even if he didn’t sign He, someone else would. Those who complain about being taken advantage of don’t realize how many would jump at the chance and never get it.