"So, who've you set your sights on this time?"
Chen Yilun asked, genuinely curious.
In theory, today's matchup was supposed to be a duel between two promising young point guards. And with Lonzo Ball already on the Lakers as a high-potential rookie, it didn't make sense for them to be eyeing more guards.
"Just browsing."
Bonnie, as always, gave nothing away.
"Seeing if there are any reliable late-round youngsters we can pick up. If we try to chase a high pick, there's no way we can compete with you."
This year's draft was practically the Chen Yilun Show. After hoarding an absurd number of draft picks, as long as there was a prospect he liked, no team—besides a few bottom-feeders tanking for the No. 1 pick—had the leverage to go toe-to-toe with him.
"Listen to yourself."
Chen Yilun laughed. "I've been stressing about that exact problem. Too many picks. I can't even use them all."
"You know how it is—an offhand comment can sound very different to someone who's really listening."
Chen Yilun's offhand remark instantly caught Bonnie's interest.
The Lakers had been miserable this year. Their record was terrible, and to top it off, their own first-rounder had already been traded away to the 76ers. Philadelphia then moved part of that pick to Boston.
If you've read this far, you're probably a hardcore basketball junkie—the type who could moonlight as an assistant coach—but just in case, here's a quick breakdown:
How can a draft pick be split up?
That comes down to the league's protection rules on draft-pick trades.
The Lakers' 2018 first-round pick originally went to the 76ers, completely unprotected. No matter the draft position, it belonged to Philly. Then the 76ers traded it to the Celtics—but added a 2–5 protection along the way.
Meaning: although the pick is in Boston's hands, it only belongs to the Celtics if the Lakers end up with the 2nd–5th pick. Anything outside that range, and the pick automatically reverts back to the 76ers.
Hence the idea that the Lakers' first-round pick is "partly in Philadelphia, partly in Boston."
"You're thinking about trading one of your picks?"
Bonnie asked carefully.
The Lakers desperately needed another first-rounder to refill their talent pool. And if they were going to buy one, the overflowing stash held by Chen Yilun made him the ideal seller.
"Oh, I'll definitely be selling."
Seeing the anticipation on Bonnie's face, Chen Yilun couldn't help chuckling internally.
The fish had taken the bait.
"Keeping this many picks is pointless. We've already got a crowded roster—where am I supposed to find contracts for all these draftees?"
"But there's no rush."
Just as Bonnie was about to speak, Chen Yilun poured a bucket of cold water over her.
"The season just started. It's way too early to know how much my first-rounders will be worth. Talking trades now is premature."
Bonnie's disappointment was obvious, though she quickly masked it.
"Then I'll wait for your good news. If you do end up moving picks, make sure to give us priority."
"Naturally."
After seeing Bonnie out, Chen Yilun finally let out a long breath.
"That woman is terrifying. Every time I talk to her, it feels like I'm being stalked by a venomous snake."
Compared to her, he much preferred dealing with the league's old foxes—at least they weren't so suffocating.
Just as he was about to leave, a slightly graying middle-aged man walked up to him.
"Yilun!"
Coach John Smith greeted him warmly.
As an NCAA team in the same conference, Alabama had always been overshadowed by Kentucky and struggled to recruit top talent.
In Chen Yilun's memory, Collin Sexton—still on the roster this year—was basically the only Alabama prospect in the coming years who could truly hold his own.
Oh, right—there was also Josh Primo.
He had been groomed as the Spurs' next "Crown Prince," but then managed to self-destruct his career.
"If it weren't for playing Calipari today, coaches like me would never get a chance to see you folks."
"Hahaha."
Hearing the harmless teasing, Chen Yilun chuckled along.
"You're wronging me. I was actually planning to swing by your place after this to mooch a meal. Didn't expect we'd run into each other today."
"That's even better!"
Coach Smith perked up. "So when should we set it? Come visit Alabama—we've got plenty of good players too."
Visit you? For what?
The only real prospect you have is Sexton, and he needs massive on-ball reps. Where am I supposed to find that much ball-handling for him?
Smiling on the outside, Chen Yilun was already thinking of ways to decline.
But when he saw Sexton packing up to leave, a thought suddenly struck him.
In his memory, Sexton was projected to go higher than Alexander in next year's draft. Even Kevin Knox from Kentucky was expected to rank above Alexander.
If he started laying groundwork now… could he boost the others' draft stock and push Alexander's down a bit?
The thought made his smile turn genuinely warm.
"Then I'll take you up on it. I'll stop by Alabama in a couple of days."
...
...
"What's there to see in Alabama?"
They were once again in Calipari's lavish mansion, another luxurious dinner laid out—but with a completely different set of guests.
Last year's Adebayo, Fox, and Monk were already in the NBA fighting for their futures. This year, Alexander and Knox were keeping him company.
"My players aren't enough for you? You still need to run off to Alabama?"
Calipari sounded annoyed. His own players hadn't secured their paths yet, and now Chen Yilun was looking elsewhere.
"The season just started, Coach Calipari. Why're you in such a hurry?"
Chen Yilun lit a cigar and savored it slowly.
"I can't just keep showing up here every time. People will start talking."
He glanced at Alexander, who sat upright and stiff.
If possible, he genuinely wanted Alexander on his team. With him, the backcourt would be set for the next decade.
But the truth was, Alexander had been pretty average early on. His real breakthrough didn't come until Chris Paul was traded to the Thunder, where he blossomed under Paul's mentorship. If he drafted Alexander now, the timeline for his development would be unpredictable.