After spending two days in Kentucky, Chen Yilun and his analyst boarded a plane to Tennessee. Once they landed, they rested briefly before heading to the University of Tennessee.
But inside the university gym, Chen Yilun came across someone he hadn't expected.
"No way, you're here too?" Chen Yilun gave a bitter smile as he sat down beside him.
The old fox Buford chuckled, grabbed the sandwich he had just bought, and took a huge bite. Mouth full, he muttered, "We're both GMs. If you can be here, why can't I?"
Watching him eat so happily, Chen Yilun didn't bother with politeness. He turned and rummaged through the takeout bag at Buford's feet. Sure enough, there were more sandwiches inside.
Chen Yilun tore one open and bit into it. Just as he was enjoying it, he noticed Buford staring at him. "What?"
"That's mine. I didn't buy it for you."
"Come on, don't be so stingy!" Chen Yilun waved him off. "It's just half a sandwich. Save some room—once we're done here, I'll treat you to a real meal."
Buford laughed at that. "Our big-shot GM Chen really is making money now. You can even treat me to dinner."
Seeing their bosses chatting happily, the analysts on both sides wisely stepped back to give them some privacy.
Buford watched the college players training on the court for a long time before finally speaking. "Down there… is there anyone you think is worth making this trip for?"
He hadn't come unprepared. On the flight, he'd studied Tennessee's roster in detail, but nothing stood out.
Chen Yilun gestured with his chin. "That one, Josh Richardson."
"Knew it." Buford leaned back against his seat. "I figured Richardson was the only one with something to talk about—but not much."
"He's projected as a late first-rounder. If he flops in March Madness, he'll probably slide into the second round. You really want a player like that?"
That made Chen Yilun laugh. "RC, it's only been a few months since we last met and you're already talking big. Who was it that didn't even want second-rounders and made me run off to Europe to scout?"
"Alright, alright, stop!" Buford quickly raised his hands, surrendering before his old mistakes could be dragged out further.
To be fair, Buford's eye for talent was sharp. Richardson was indeed taken in the second round by the Heat that year. Even at his peak, he never reached All-Star level—but he was exactly the kind of solid role player every contender wanted.
Chen Yilun wasn't the kind of GM who blindly stacked stars. To him, someone like Richardson was affordable, and with two years of proper development, could become a valuable team asset.
What he didn't expect was for Buford to bite as well.
If the Spurs were getting involved too, Richardson's value would have to be reevaluated.
While the two foxes—one seasoned, one still green—were busy scheming, the scrimmage on the court wrapped up.
"What's going on today? Why are the Spurs' and Kings' GMs both here?" A player, towel in hand, wiped off his sweat and asked his coach casually.
Naturally, they were curious. For any college player, making it to the NBA was the ultimate dream. And today, two powerful decision-makers had shown up at once. It was impossible not to wonder.
The coach glanced at him and said, "How would I know? They just told me they were visiting. Didn't say anything else. Don't ask me."
Truthfully, the coach couldn't figure it out either. January was usually a quiet month for GMs. He knew exactly what level his players were at—none of them were the kind of prodigy worth flying across the country for.
Ignoring the curious players below, Chen Yilun straightened his jacket and stood. "Alright, show's over. Where are we eating tonight?"
...
"You really are making money now, huh!" Buford looked around at the upscale restaurant and sighed. "Guess I'll have to bleed you dry tonight."
"This is nothing!" Chen Yilun deliberately put on the airs of a nouveau riche, casually unfolding his napkin. "You know my boss. The team's been doing well, so money isn't tight. Honestly, it wasn't until I started working here that I realized how miserable we had it before."
The Spurs' frugality was infamous around the league, and as a former Spur, Chen Yilun had suffered plenty from it.
"It's easy to go from frugal to extravagant, but hard to go the other way. Don't get used to spending big, or you'll regret it later," Buford said gruffly. Then he lowered his voice. "Forget that—word is you've been cozying up with Boston lately."
Chen Yilun froze with his glass in hand. As expected, the old man hadn't come all this way just to watch rookies. He was here to sniff out moves ahead of the deadline.
Historically, the Spurs had done nothing in this window, stubbornly trusting their championship roster. In the end, arrogance had cost them with a first-round playoff exit.
Glancing around and seeing no no-smoking signs, Chen Yilun unceremoniously took Buford's cigar and lit one. "Yeah, I've thought about it, but it's still early."
Buford winced as Chen casually puffed on his cigar. "That's a fine Havana. Treat it with some respect!"
"Danny Ainge isn't exactly easy to deal with. Be careful, or he'll fleece you," Buford warned.
"I don't have what he wants. At most, I'll play as a third party in the trade." Chen Yilun exhaled a smoke ring and went on, "My thinking is simple. The East is weak right now. Cleveland's too dominant. If a few other teams get stronger, they can at least help wear James down."
His words were bold—the Kings, from this perspective, were aiming for the championship.
"Don't overreach, or you'll get yourself hurt," Buford said seriously.
He really did treat Chen Yilun like his junior, worried that ambition would make him fall hard one day.
"Relax, I know what I'm doing. The real question is you guys." Chen Yilun shifted the topic. "Don't you want to defend your title this year?"
"Of course I do," Buford gave a bitter smile. "But it's tough. No good trades in the offseason, Tim and the others another year older… And the biggest thing—after winning, a lot of people just lost their fire."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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