The buzz surrounding Rose's career night didn't truly fade until December.
Against that backdrop, Chen Yilun and the Kings continued pressing forward with their dynasty ambitions.
"Everything been going smoothly with the team lately?"
Chen Yilun shrugged off his overcoat as he walked into the conference room.
Today's meeting was a routine internal review between him and Malone, covering both recent results and day-to-day operations.
The moment he stepped inside, Chen Yilun noticed Mosley sitting quietly in the corner.
With Karl's recommendation behind him, Malone had readily accepted Mosley into the staff. As the most junior member of the assistant coaching group, Mosley had already been with the team for nearly a month.
"It's been great."
Caught off guard by Chen Yilun's question, Mosley stood up a little hurriedly.
"Everyone's been really good to me. I've learned a lot."
"That's good."
Chen Yilun waved him back down, then took the main seat, opened his notebook, and got straight to the point.
"Let's start with team operations."
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Graham. Since Divac's departure, Graham had effectively become the team's chief steward, handling most of the day-to-day management.
"Alright."
Graham nodded and began his report.
"Overall profitability has been a bit sluggish recently. The main reason is that preseason season-ticket sales were exceptionally strong, so the current numbers don't look as impressive by comparison."
Chen Yilun nodded in agreement as he listened.
After winning two championships in a row, the Kings had posted the best season-ticket sales in franchise history when sales opened before the season. Chen Yilun was certain that if he hadn't set a purchase cap early on, every seat in Golden One Arena would have sold out instantly.
"That's not important," he said, nodding.
"Tell me about recent attendance."
"Right."
Seeing that Chen Yilun wasn't fixated on surface-level growth, Graham quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Chen Yilun wasn't the type to obsess over pretty numbers on paper—otherwise, he would've needed a long explanation.
"One thing worth noting, though, is that staff labor costs have increased by several percentage points compared to last season."
"That's normal fluctuation," Chen Yilun replied casually, absentmindedly scratching his ear.
"We've moved into a larger arena. Staffing can't be as loose as it was back in the old building. I just want to know whether this increase affects our ability to make money."
"Not at all," Graham said, shaking his head.
"Even though we've added staff, the arena capacity is much larger. If you break it down, each staff member is actually serving more fans than before."
"Oh."
Chen Yilun took a sip of water and continued.
"That stuff doesn't matter much to me anyway. I never look at the actuaries' reports. What use are numbers cooked up by people who just play with figures all day?"
After wrapping up operations, Chen Yilun turned his attention to Malone.
"Mike, give me a rundown of the team's recent results."
"Sure."
Malone spoke with a calm, composed smile.
"Over the past month, we're 10–4. Two of those losses came from shifting ball-handling responsibilities. Booker and Jokić are still young, and they couldn't fully shoulder the load at first, so we dropped a couple of games we shouldn't have. Once they adjusted to their new roles, we've hardly lost since."
"We still need to stay sharp," Chen Yilun said, shooting Malone a displeased look.
"If I remember correctly, several of those games were pretty shaky. We can't let our guard down."
Malone had started to get a little too relaxed. The Christmas showdown was right around the corner, and the team still lacked consistency.
Reducing Durant's and Butler's ball control had been Chen Yilun's call, but an adjustment like that shouldn't have caused such noticeable swings in performance.
After the brief scolding, Malone rubbed his nose awkwardly.
"Don't worry, sir. This is all within normal range. It won't affect our playoff position."
Those words carried weight.
Saying it wouldn't affect their playoff standing was essentially a promise to reclaim the top spot in the Western Conference. At the moment, though, the Kings were only second.
Earlier fluctuations had allowed the Lakers to seize the opportunity and leap into first place.
Chen Yilun gave Malone a long, meaningful look.
"Fine. I'll judge you by what comes next. I don't care about nice-sounding words—I only care about results."
Lately, Chen Yilun had sensed the beginnings of complacency within the team.
After winning back-to-back titles, the tension that once held everyone together had loosened without anyone noticing.
That was exactly why championships were common, but dynasties were rare.
Once players have a ring, it's easy to relax. After all, the hardware is already there—next comes thinking about future contracts.
In an environment like that, a team needs someone to keep pushing, someone to force the group to maintain championship-level competitiveness.
Like Jordan during the Bulls dynasty, or the "good cop, bad cop" dynamic of the OK duo in their era.
But the current Kings didn't have a player who could truly set the tone.
Since becoming the second option, Butler had all but stopped caring about team chemistry, spending his energy hanging out with his old buddy Rose instead. As for the team's two supposed leaders—
Gay was a master of coasting. Even if he wanted to help, his long-established image ran too deep; no one took his words seriously anymore.
Durant, meanwhile, had started to show flashes of leadership, but that lingering underdog air about him still hadn't completely faded.
In the end, Chen Yilun could only place his hopes on Malone, counting on him to spark the team and keep the atmosphere tight.