America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

For Sean, the last few days of January were alright.

Catherine Donovan is currently in a state of utter chaos. The video about the Muslim community support center is like a ticking time bomb; while it hasn't completely destroyed Donovan yet, it has forced her to devote all her energy to putting out the fire.

Meanwhile, the prosecution's investigation into Sean, though still pending, has effectively stalled.

Taking advantage of the enemy's respite, Sean decided to take the time to deal with the Chinatown situation.

He played two cards: one was the favor Mayor Howard owed him from the previous "pizza diplomacy," and the other was Boss Ma's card.

Although his relationship with NBA executives is far from perfect, it could be described as extremely distant, but he has enough financial resources to help Shawn out a little.

It was through these two connections that he finally managed to knock on the door of a conference room at the city hall. Although his plan was not yet perfect, he needed to contact the representatives of the 76ers first to know how to proceed.

……

City Hall, Conference Room No. 3.

On one side of the long table sat Sean and Vincent, along with two respected Chinatown residents. As temporary representatives of the Chinatown community, they had a thick stack of documents in front of them, including the street survey report and legal documents that Vincent had compiled overnight.

On the other side of the long table were the deputy director of the planning bureau sent by the city hall, and... three unfamiliar faces wearing dark blue suits.

These three guys all had a favorability rating of -20 for Sean, while the old hands in the city government only had around 30.

Sean stared at the seat in the middle of the three empty chairs, where the person in charge should have been sitting, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Where's Mr. Darrell Morey?" Sean asked. "If I remember correctly, today's meeting was supposed to be a direct conversation with the 76ers' president."

The man in the suit who was leading the group pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone carrying a professional arrogance.

"Mr. Morey has an important conference call coming up, about the All-Star Game arrangements. You know, that's his job," the man in the suit said casually. "I'm David Stern, the team's vice president of public relations... oh no, David Smith. I think my colleagues and I are capable of handling today's issues."

They couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent excuse.

This is blatant contempt!

In their eyes, Sean was nothing more than a washed-up actor trying to ride on the coattails of fame, and Vincent was an unknown lawyer. Sending a few mid-level managers to deal with him was already a favor to the mayor.

"Alright." Sean leaned back in his chair, his signature smile on his face. "Since Mr. Morey is so busy, let's get straight to the point."

He gestured for Vincent to begin.

"Mr. Smith, based on our investigation and research into the National Environmental Policy Act and Philadelphia local regulations, the 76ers' plans for a new arena in the Fashion District pose serious legal risks." Vincent's voice was clear and articulate.

"First, there's the issue of traffic congestion. The fashion district is adjacent to Chinatown and Jefferson Hospital, and the influx of people on game days can cause emergency access to become blocked. Second, there's the issue of gentrification leading to community disruption..."

"Excuse me." Smith raised a hand, his face looking like he'd heard a funny joke.

"Attorney Carter, right?" He flipped through the documents in his hand. "I know you're an excellent public interest lawyer, and your law firm has many talented young people joining it. Perhaps you're good at handling drunk driving or petty theft cases. But this is commercial real estate development, a multi-billion dollar project."

"We have a top-tier legal team in the US and the most professional urban planning consultants. The potential problems you mentioned were already addressed in our feasibility study two years ago."

"Resolved?" a Chinese man interjected. "How was it resolved? By evicting the residents of Chinatown?"

"This is a market behavior, sir."

Smith then turned to Sean, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Speaking of which, Mr. Pan, what did that email you sent us before you came say? Oh right, it said that 'one city, two stadiums' would lead to a split between fans and the team, and could also cause locker room problems, right?"

The two henchmen beside him chuckled softly.

"Excuse my bluntness, Mr. Pan," Smith said regretfully, looking at Sean, "You're an actor; acting is your profession. As for how to run an NBA team and maximize its commercial value, that's our profession."

"Wells Fargo Center is too old; we need a home of our own. This is not only for the team, but also for Philadelphia's economy. Even the mayor agrees."

The deputy director of the planning bureau, who had been silent all along, coughed awkwardly twice, seemingly trying to smooth things over, but ultimately chose to remain silent.

"So, you mean there's no room for negotiation?" Sean was still smiling.

He could understand it, after all, the Los Angeles Clippers didn't want to share an arena with the Lakers. But this kind of arrogance...

It seems the municipal government's sycophancy has made them a little too complacent.

"We welcome constructive suggestions." Smith stood up, straightened his suit jacket, and said, "For example, if Chinatown wants some ticket discounts, or if they want to open a few Chinese food stalls in the arena, we can consider that. As for anything else, let's not waste everyone's time."

After saying that, he closed his notebook and left with his two henchmen.

……

It was already dark when I left the city hall.

Vincent kicked a trash can on the side of the road, making a loud bang.

"asshole!"

The usually mild-mannered lawyer was now red with anger.

"They didn't take us seriously at all! These self-important elites!" Vincent gritted his teeth. "Sean, we've been played. Morey never intended to see us; he was just humiliating us!"

"Don't be angry, Mr. Carter," Sean laughed. "Anger is a sign of weakness."

"Aren't you angry?" Vincent glared at him. "They're treating you like a know-it-all clown!"

"Of course I'm angry." Sean looked at the brightly lit office buildings in the distance. "But you should know that arrogance is the best gift you can give your enemy."

He turned around and patted Vincent on the back.

"Do you know what kind of person Darrell Morey is?"

"To be honest, I don't really know."

"I looked up all sorts of gossip about him before I came here," Sean sneered. "This guy isn't popular. He's had conflicts with NBA executives, as well as players like Harden, Anthony, and Chris Paul."

"Of course, none of that matters. The most important thing is: do you remember what he tweeted about a certain place five years ago?"

Vincent thought for a moment, then finally remembered: "Oh! I remember now! That incident caused quite a stir back then, and I think the Rockets suffered heavy losses as a result?"

"It was more than just devastating." Sean's eyes narrowed to slits. "That one sentence caused the NBA to lose at least $4 million in broadcast and sponsorship revenue. Rockets owner Tilman Fertitta was almost driven mad by it. So he was forced to leave the Rockets and join the Philadelphia 76ers after that."

"This guy, although he's a bit clever, is a complete idiot when it comes to politics and interpersonal relationships."

As Vincent listened, his emotions gradually calmed down.

"So..." He looked at Sean, "you mean, he has many weaknesses? But he is, after all, the president of the 76ers."

"The 76ers aren't Morey's private property. The real owner is Josh Harris." Sean scratched his head. "To Harris, Morey is just a high-level employee. If this employee makes money, he's a good employee. But if this employee starts causing trouble, starts making the owner lose money, or even damages the owner's reputation..."

Sean smiled, this time from the bottom of his heart.

"So what do you think the boss will do?"

Vincent's eyes lit up. "Replace him?"

"At least it will make him compromise," Sean said.

"So what do we do next?" Vincent asked. "Continue looking for loopholes in their laws?"

"Of course we should do that, but that's too slow." Sean shook his head. "We need a faster knife."

"What kind of knife?"

"The Fourth Estate"

Sean pointed to the flashing neon lights on the building in the distance.

"In the United States, in addition to the legislative, executive, and judicial branches, there is a fourth power: the press."

"Doesn't Morey like to hide behind the scenes and play dead? Then let's drag him into the spotlight and let him bask in the sun."

Vincent hesitated. "But the Philadelphia media...most of them have close ties to Comcast. Will they speak up for us?"

"The mainstream media may turn a deaf ear, but don't forget, the media landscape has changed." Sean took out his phone and waved it. "Besides, I'm not unprepared."

He does have some connections in the journalism industry.

Seeing Sean's confident demeanor, Vincent's gloom vanished.

"Pan, sometimes I really think you're more terrifying than those politicians."

That's what they say, but Vincent's affection for him grew when time came to [80].

Sean felt he was corrupting the upright lawyer in front of him.

"Thank you for the compliment." Sean straightened his collar. "Come on, Mr. Carter, let's go for a drink. Get a good night's sleep tonight, and starting tomorrow, we'll show Mr. Morey what the price of underestimating laymen is."

He glanced back at the imposing city hall building.

Sean doesn't consider himself a very bad person, but he's definitely not a good one either.

"We cannot expect to achieve victory in one battle. Before the formal commencement of the war, we must make as many friends as possible and as few enemies as possible. But as for those stubborn enemies..."

"Why not give them a push and let them fall from the clouds, so they can be smashed to pieces?"