"I don't know how you got my number, but let me make this crystal clear—I'm busy and don't have time to scout your players."
Early in the morning, Chen Yilun sat with dark circles under his eyes, gulping down an iced Americano.
"Who was it?"
Sitting across from him, Peja sipped his coffee.
"Hell if I know." Chen Yilun took another bitter gulp. "Some no-name agent in the league, I guess. His guys can't get playing time, so he's trying his luck with me."
"I've got more work than I can handle every single day. I don't have time to waste on people like that."
Rubbing his temples in frustration, Chen Yilun picked up his files and went back to reading.
Watching him, still looking groggy and irritable, Peja hesitated before finally speaking.
"Chen, I feel like your work style is a bit different compared to last year."
"Different how?"
That caught Chen Yilun's attention.
"Well…" Peja thought for a moment before continuing. "When you first took over last year, you wanted to shoulder the entire front office yourself. Big or small, you insisted on being involved in everything."
"Now it feels like you've started to let go a little."
"Isn't that a good thing? You get more responsibility and you're still not happy?" Chen Yilun gave him a teasing look.
"That's not what I mean." Peja quickly waved his hands.
"As the boss, you trusting us with more responsibility is great. But lately you've been buried in paperwork and not paying enough attention to the rest of the league."
"What do you mean?"
Peja's vague words left Chen Yilun confused.
"Like that call just now. Even though you're one of the most powerful figures in the league now, if this had been last year, I think you'd still have tried to connect with that agent—or at least given him some courtesy."
Hearing that, Chen Yilun set his documents down and thought quietly.
It was true—he'd been tied up with the team's daily operations lately. But the real strength of a top executive wasn't just his management skills; it was his network.
With strong connections, scouts and agents would tell you the truth and send their best prospects to your workouts first. But stuck in the office, Chen Yilun was slowly losing touch with that world.
"Thanks." Peja's words hit home—Chen Yilun immediately saw the flaw in his approach.
"Call Divac and ask where he is. Let him handle today's sponsor meeting." Chen Yilun casually tossed the files onto the desk.
"He's the assistant GM, for crying out loud. He can't just sit around doing nothing. Tell him if he keeps hiding behind his precious protégé and dumping all the work on me, I'll send him to Malone's staff as an assistant coach. Let him sit there instead of taking up space here."
"Got it!" Peja jotted it down in his notebook. "So if you're skipping the meeting, what are you doing instead?"
"Your words just woke me up." Chen Yilun began gathering the papers scattered across his desk. "This afternoon, I'm going to check out that open tryout."
...
Dressed in a sharp suit, Chen Yilun walked out of the airport and grabbed a cab straight to the training facility.
In the arena, scattered across the stands were people in suits—agents of players about to compete, scouts, analysts, trainers from other teams, even independent league scouts.
They huddled in small groups, whispering to each other.
The moment Chen Yilun walked in, all eyes turned to him.
Though his oversized sunglasses covered half his face, his presence was instantly recognizable.
"Why is Chen Yilun here?"
A scout nervously stood, rubbing his pants as he fidgeted.
Right now, Chen Yilun was at the peak of his influence in front office circles.
Since taking over last year, he had pulled the Kings out of years of mediocrity, single-handedly building their young core.
In just one year, he was already strong enough to go toe-to-toe with veterans like Pat Riley and Danny Ainge.
He had almost no weaknesses, apart from being young.
"Chen! I really appreciate you coming."
A middle-aged white man with a receding hairline hurried over and shook his hand.
"Sean, I just happened to be free. Thought I'd drop by and take a look. Go ahead with your work."
Sean was a second-tier agent in the league. He had plenty of players under contract, but his success rate was low—hence the need to set up this scrimmage.
"Who's playing today?" Chen Yilun asked, glancing at the incomplete lineup.
"Quite a few. TJ McConnell, Cliff Alexander, Tyler Johnson. They'll all be here."
"Zijian's here?"
Hearing the first name, Chen Yilun couldn't help but laugh.
As a longtime 2K player, TJ McConnell's name was all too familiar. In the Chinese version of the game, every custom-built player was named "Zijian."
He knew the others too. Mostly undrafted guys or journeymen from the past couple of years.
There's an old saying in the league: every undrafted player is the Jordan of his own story.
Even if you don't get picked in the second round, you were still a prodigy once.
TJ McConnell was First Team All-Pac-12 and made the All-Defensive Team, but went undrafted in 2015.
Tyler Johnson was Second Team in the Mountain West Conference. An older rookie, he entered the 2014 draft, went undrafted, and was picked up by the Heat, playing over 30 games last season. Now he was chasing a second contract.
Cliff Alexander, however, had an even bigger name.
Even die-hard fans might not remember him.
Cliff Alexander: same draft class as Karl-Anthony Towns and D'Angelo Russell. Once the top-ranked high school power forward in the nation, twice named National Player of the Year. In high school, he was the undisputed top prospect among his peers.
But due to off-court issues and his height coming up shorter than expected at the combine, he ultimately went undrafted.