The All-Star Game tipped off with the jump ball between the Gasol brothers.
Last year, Pau Gasol opted out of his contract and signed with Chicago, so this year's game featured the rare sight of both brothers starting at center—for opposing teams!
As expected, the matchup quickly turned into a dull offensive showcase.
First, Curry and Thompson connected for a classic Splash Brothers play, then John Wall burst to the rim for a thunderous dunk.
Chen Yilun sat upright, watching for a while. He glanced around and noticed no one was paying attention to him. The boss and his daughter were fully engrossed, even cheering whenever a highlight lit up the court.
Perfect—no one cares what I'm doing.
Quietly, Chen Yilun slipped his phone from his jacket pocket and started scrolling through messages.
For casual fans or those unfamiliar with basketball, the All-Star Game might look entertaining. But anyone who truly knows the sport finds it painfully boring.
No real plays, no defensive schemes—most of the time it's just players going through the motions.
That kind of pure exhibition is tough to watch.
And it wasn't just Chen Yilun who was checked out. Even the coaches and executives in the front row only pretended to watch before returning to their own business.
You might wonder: if managers don't care about the game, why bother showing up?
The answer was the same for all of them: the trade deadline was just four days away.
That's why seasoned reporters and insiders always kept a close eye on which managers lingered around during All-Star weekend—those teams were usually gearing up to make a move.
"Stop looking at your phone. DeMarcus and CJ are subbing in."
Ranadivé's voice cut into Chen Yilun's focus as he studied his reports.
Looking up, he realized half the first quarter had already passed, and both coaches had begun making substitutions.
Not that the starters had even worked up a sweat.
CJ and Cousins stood at the scorer's table waiting for the whistle. Suddenly, CJ leaned over and whispered,
"Let's run something together."
"Got it!" Cousins' eyes lit up.
After half a season together, their chemistry was strong. A few words from CJ, and Cousins already knew what he had in mind.
The moment they checked in, the chance came quickly. CJ brought the ball across half court and set up. The Eastern Conference defenders moved lazily into position, showing no concern for how he planned to attack.
Cousins stepped up to set a fake screen. CJ used the motion for a hesitation move, looking like he was about to shoot.
His defender, Lowry, stepped forward for a half-hearted contest—but missed Cousins slipping down the lane in full stride.
The paint was wide open, with only Millsap under the rim.
CJ turned his body and lobbed the ball high. Spotting trouble, Millsap bailed immediately.
Come on—this isn't a real game. Who's going to risk getting posterized in an exhibition?
Cousins soared, snatched the lob midair, wound up, and smashed home a massive windmill dunk.
"Nice one!"
Anjali leapt from her seat, cheering loudly.
Watching the lively, beautiful Anjali, Chen Yilun gave a faint smile. She was attractive, but he felt nothing beyond that.
Their conversations were strictly professional—she was fascinated by basketball operations and treated him as a teacher.
As for hitting on the boss's daughter? That wasn't his thing.
The game wrapped up quickly.
Since All-Star exhibitions had few fouls and almost no timeouts, they always ended faster than normal games.
This year brought an unusual twist. In the original timeline, Westbrook had won All-Star MVP, but because of Chen Yilun's presence, he hadn't even made the roster. The Western Conference still came out on top, but this time the MVP went to James Harden—The Beard.
He raised the trophy high as New York fans filed out of Madison Square Garden satisfied, ready to enjoy their weekend.
For Chen Yilun, though, the real battle was just beginning.
Over the next four days, he wouldn't get a single minute of rest—sleep included.
But before diving into work, there was one more thing to take care of.
"Teacher Wei Ping!" Chen Yilun, taking advantage of his position, stepped onto the court and spotted Wei Ping broadcasting live.
"Well, well! Isn't this our Manager Chen? Come on over!"
Wei Ping, speaking into the camera, turned when he heard fluent Mandarin and recognized Chen Yilun.
"I've been wanting to chat with you for a long time, but never had the chance. Finally, today!" Wei Ping shifted aside and pulled Chen Yilun into the frame.
"You came to watch the game too?"
"Of course. Cousins and CJ were playing—I had to come support them."
Wei Ping laughed. "Exactly. We even talked to them before tipoff, and they had nothing but praise for you!"
"They're too kind." They exchanged a few pleasantries before the broadcast cut back to the C5 studio.
Once the cameras were off, Wei Ping dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
"By the way, Yilun, a lot of folks in the industry back home want to meet you. The national program also has some things they'd like to discuss. What do you think?"
As expected.
Chen Yilun knew his position had drawn attention—it was too sensitive to ignore.
A general manager might just be an executive, but as the decision-maker for a franchise, his influence on Chinese basketball far outweighed that of any individual player.
With the national team in decline, it wasn't surprising they saw him as part of the solution.
"No problem. I'll do what I can to help," Chen Yilun replied with a smile.
He and Wei Ping exchanged numbers.
"But let's wait a couple of days to talk—you understand." Chen Yilun winked.
Wei Ping nodded knowingly. "Of course, of course. You must be swamped. End of the month—we'll be in touch!"
After saying goodbye to Wei Ping, Chen Yilun steadied himself.
"The final battle is about to begin."
...