Although the Kings lost on their home court, Sacramento's loyal fans didn't abandon them. Even after the final buzzer, the arena was still packed. Flags waved in the air as countless fans roared their support for the home team.
This rollercoaster of a game kept everyone on edge. Sure, they lost—but it was to the defending champions, and only by a slim margin.
Last year, this team sat at the bottom of the league. Now they're playing like this? What more could you ask for? Just keep cheering them on.
In the studio, Sir Charles Barkley and Reggie Miller both exhaled in relief.
"This is the most exciting game I've seen all season," Barkley said, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead that wasn't there.
"Absolutely. The Kings have been full of surprises this year. I think analysts—especially those covering the West—will start paying close attention," Miller replied. "With Cousins and Gay anchoring the team, and CJ leading a pack of hungry young guards…"
"That's scary."
"I can't even imagine how good they'll be by summer."
While the studio buzzed, Chen Yilun wasn't nearly as relaxed. He'd hoped to use his "cheat code" to impress Popovich, but the veteran coach's experience still won out.
He'd done plenty of talking before the game, and now the old fox had him right where he wanted.
As Yilun looked for a chance to slip away, he turned and spotted a silver-haired old man at the edge of the court, wearing a sly grin.
Clink!
Crystal glasses met with a crisp chime. "You've got a knack for picking the right spots, kid." Popovich took a sip of deep amber wine, closing his eyes to savor it before speaking again.
"You really don't respect your elders. You even kept your whole team in Sacramento an extra day just to get at me," Yilun replied, taking a sip himself and shaking his head.
"Oh, come on now," Popovich said with a harmless glare. "Still, your progress has gone beyond what I expected. We figured it would take you at least two years to get this team on track. Now it seems letting you go might have been another mistake on my part."
If Yilun had stayed, those two brilliant offseason trades might have been the Spurs' instead. With LaVine's elite 3-and-D potential and explosive athleticism, they never would have had a chance to get him.
And if they'd landed Jokic—the endlessly inventive big man—and given him two years with Duncan and Diaw, he might have been their frontcourt solution for the next decade.
"Well, nothing we can do now. You were the ones who pushed me to come here," Yilun said, fully aware of the old fox's thoughts.
Popovich caught the hint of smugness in Yilun's expression and suddenly had an idea. His grin widened with a touch of scheming mischief.
"Any chance your young guys are available for a trade?"
Yilun shook his head without hesitation. "Other than Kawhi, there's no one on the Spurs I'm interested in. If you're willing to move Kawhi, name your price—I won't argue."
The dinner ended with the master and apprentice exchanging jabs and strategy, but no deal. That's the way business works in the league—testing, probing, and pulling back until the deals finally happen.
...
After the Spurs game, the Kings had three days off before hosting the Pelicans.
With nothing much happening and no GMs ready to make moves before the trade deadline, Yilun decided to take a short break. He booked a flight straight to Los Angeles.
At Staples Center, dressed casually in sunglasses, he kept a low profile in the stands as he watched the Lakers face the Nuggets. He wasn't scouting anyone—just living out the dream of seeing a game purely as a fan.
Under new coach Byron Scott, the Lakers were in a steep decline, gunning for the No. 1 draft pick. Kobe Bryant, fresh off a major injury, was carrying the team alone, with Nick Young as his second scoring option. Unsurprisingly, the Lakers lost to the Nuggets.
Even trying to blend in, Yilun's unmistakable East Asian appearance quickly caught the attention of both teams and courtside reporters. After the game, two unexpected figures approached him.
Jeremy Lin, wearing the purple-and-gold No. 17 jersey and draped in a towel, came over. "Hey, Yilun, we finally meet."
Yilun greeted him with a professional smile. "Yo, Jeremy, nice game tonight."
In 2014, Lin hadn't yet adopted the distinctive style he'd sport later with the Hornets, keeping a simple, short haircut.
That season, Lin was the Lakers' third offensive option, but with Kobe and Nick Young ahead of him, touches were limited. Unless something surprising happened, he'd likely be switching teams again in the offseason. The greeting was probably just a way to connect through their shared background.
Behind Lin stood a tall, poised reporter in a fitted skirt.
"Betty just finished interviewing me, so we thought we'd come over and say hello."
Her smile sparked Yilun's memory. Wait—that's Zhou Ling'an.
She was a respected NBA reporter back in China, best known for hosting the official program NBA Insider. Long before TX took over broadcast rights, she had built a reputation for sharp, insightful interviews.
"Hello, Mr. Chen. Sorry to interrupt, I'm Zhou Ling'an." She smiled warmly and offered a handshake.
They had met before, but back when Yilun was with the Spurs, he was just a low-profile role player—nothing like the man who now called the shots for the Kings.
"Hello, hello. I used to watch your interviews all the time back in China. Great to finally meet you in person," Yilun replied politely.
"Are you in Los Angeles for work today, Mr. Chen?" she asked smoothly.
"No, I'm on vacation—just here as a fan to soak in the Staples atmosphere," Yilun answered, steering the topic away.
They spoke in Chinese, leaving Jeremy Lin—whose Mandarin was shaky—visibly out of the loop. After a brief pause, he nodded politely and headed back to the locker room.
"Oh, I see." Zhou understood his intent, motioning for the cameraman to turn off the feed and setting down her microphone. "Sorry, am I disturbing your vacation?"
"It's fine. Comes with the territory—getting 'spotted' is part of the job," Yilun said casually.
"But I do have a suggestion, if you're interested."
"Just call me Yilun—'Mr. Chen' makes me sound old. What's the suggestion?"
"Well…" Zhou brushed a strand of hair aside. "I'm currently hosting NBA Insider. I'd like to invite you as our next guest. Would you be interested?"