"Chen! Our Alexander is really talented."
At the dinner table, the agent was still enthusiastically promoting his player.
Chen Yilun, however, kept his eyes on the dishes in front of him, enjoying each bite. He had to admit—the restaurant choice was excellent, perfectly to his taste.
"I see."
After polishing off the meal, Chen Yilun wiped his mouth with satisfaction.
"I've seen Alexander play. He's got raw talent, but his game is still unpolished." He took a sip of lemonade to rinse his mouth. "Bring him over on a ten-day short-term contract. Let him train with us."
"That's great, fantastic!"
The agent discreetly wiped sweat from his forehead. With Chen Yilun's approval, the deal was as good as done.
Even the most fragile ten-day contract made all the difference compared to having none. Even if Chen Yilun didn't extend it afterward, at least his player could say he'd caught the attention of an NBA team—a useful selling point when negotiating with others later.
After finishing the meal, Chen Yilun boarded a flight back to Sacramento.
"Are you serious? Cliff Alexander?"
A team General Manager scratched his head in confusion.
"Yeah. After watching the game, Chen Yilun didn't talk to anyone else. He just had dinner with Cliff Alexander's agent and left."
"What's he want with that guy?"
Chen Yilun's move—just angling for a free dinner—left several GMs completely baffled.
They all knew Cliff Alexander—nothing but a liability. What could possibly interest Chen Yilun?
"Doesn't matter. Let's reach out to his agent anyway. Chen Yilun managed to bring Oden back—who knows, maybe Cliff Alexander has something hidden too. No harm in checking—better to take a chance than miss out."
While other teams scrambled to see if Cliff Alexander had any untapped potential, Chen Yilun was already back in his Sacramento office.
"Why should I go there? Don't I already have enough to deal with?"
No sooner had he sat down than Peja delivered bad news.
"Stockton? What would I do there? Do they think I'm some kind of workhorse?"
Chen Yilun glared at him, clearly annoyed.
"I don't know either! The boss called while you were still on the plane, so he told me instead."
Seeing Chen Yilun's face darken, Peja quickly put on a helpless expression.
Ranadivé had just fired the Stockton Kings' General Manager and specifically named Chen Yilun as interim GM for two days.
"Don't get too mad. This might actually be a good thing."
Peja glanced around, making sure no one else was listening, then leaned in.
"You know who your assistant will be in Stockton?"
"Who? Haven't you always been my assistant?" Chen Yilun raised an eyebrow.
"Not this time. Anjali will be your assistant." Peja gave him a knowing smile.
"Anjali?"
Chen Yilun froze for a second, then let out a long, drawn-out "Ohhh~~~~."
He understood. They were sending him out to mentor the heir apparent.
Anjali's ambition to become a professional manager was no secret. She'd been shadowing him since the offseason to learn the ropes.
Now it seemed the plan was to raise her status step by step—start her in the G-League under his guidance, let her gain experience, and then bring her back into the team's decision-making circle after a few years.
"Don't worry about things here," Peja reassured him. "With me and Divac around, nothing major will happen."
"Besides, the boss said you won't need to stay there full-time. Just show up once or twice a week. Anjali will handle the daily operations."
"Alright, got it."
Chen Yilun waved it off. "Guess I'll play mentor for a while."
Every NBA team has an affiliated G-League team, what used to be called the NBDL.
Though the G-League is still a professional league, its level of play, exposure, and professionalism can't compare to the NBA.
Put simply, it's where the fringe of the fringe gather—the players who couldn't stick in the NBA.
Play well, and you might get called up by the parent team. Play poorly, and you'll sink into obscurity. Year after year, they grind through high-intensity games while earning salaries barely enough to scrape by.
That's the reality. The NBA may look glamorous, but that applies only to 400 players—the top 400 selected from the entire global basketball pool.
"This is actually my first time in Stockton."
Stepping out of the sleek black stretch limo, Chen Yilun looked at the aging sports center before him and couldn't help but sigh.
Following him was Anjali, dressed in a sharp, tailored black business suit.
The two of them standing in front of the arena looked completely out of place.
"Mr. Chen, welcome, welcome!"
A slightly disheveled middle-aged white man in a loose polo shirt jogged over, his overweight frame wobbling.
"Just call me Pete. I used to be the CFO here."
Pete? Chen Yilun glanced at the double chin hanging from his plump face. "Hopefully not Griffin."
"How long have you been working here? I don't recall ever seeing you."
"Hahaha!" Pete awkwardly wiped his forehead.
"Because Stockton's finances have been struggling these past two years, I mainly dealt with Mr. Peja."
"Struggling, huh?" Chen Yilun sneered.
Before coming, he'd already reviewed the Stockton Kings' financial reports from the past two years.
Calling it "struggling" was generous. They'd barely managed to cover basic operations. In fact, twice they had needed bailouts from the parent team just to keep the franchise afloat.