Days went by in a noisy blur, and the Kings' December games were anything but smooth.
After shifting back to the two-guard lineup, while the games became more entertaining, it also made their offense unpredictable. If LaVine and Booker both went cold, the team was an easy target for opponents.
"Weren't we supposed to get some big shakeup? It's almost Christmas and there's still no news?"
Today, the Kings were on the road against the Knicks.
This year's Knicks had been stripped down to just Anthony. Even Porziņģis was gone because of Chen Yilun. That left Malone with an easy night, checking out after just three quarters.
He plopped down next to Chen Yilun and struck up a chat.
"How should I know? You think I'm some fortune teller?"
Chen Yilun, who had been happily slacking off, was interrupted by Malone and irritably pocketed his phone.
These past few days, Chen Yilun had been openly slacking—avoiding work whenever possible. If anyone asked, he'd just say he was waiting for space to maneuver.
So why had he bothered coming along to New York today?
Of course, it was out of dedication to the team and solidarity with his players—not at all because he wanted to hitch a ride on the team's private jet to see tomorrow's concert!
"What about the Bulls?"
Malone lowered his voice.
"No movement yet. Can't help it. My source tells me the Bulls' front office is such a mess right now, it's like everyone's running around like headless chickens. They don't have time to bother with us."
Glancing around, Chen Yilun grabbed Tang Zhou's notebook from beside him and held it over his mouth.
You could never be too careful—plenty of reporters in the league loved filming guys like him, then going back to lip-read for dirt.
"Source, huh? Why not just give them your Senior's ID number?"
Malone said casually.
Chen Yilun's so-called "informant" was an open secret. Everyone in the league knew the Bulls' top assistant coach was Popovich's disciple, Jim Boylen—Chen Yilun's very own Senior.
Malone didn't need to think hard to figure out who was feeding him information.
"Having a Senior really pays off."
Malone teased sarcastically.
"But are you confident you can land Butler?"
"If I can't handle something this small, I might as well quit and go back to being an assistant." Chen Yilun rolled his eyes.
Why was he so confident? The story went way back.
Front office politics had always plagued the Bulls, even back in Jordan's era. It was as if the team couldn't function without drama.
In recent years, the conflict escalated after Derrick Rose's injury. Tom Thibodeau's camp clashed directly with Gar Forman's faction.
Thibodeau, a firm Rose loyalist, wanted to wait for his return. Gar's group, however, wanted to move on from the injury-prone Rose and elevate Butler instead.
The struggle ended with Thibodeau's unceremonious exit.
But this year, new cracks were showing.
Rose returned this season. Though not quite at his MVP level, he was still a top-tier guard.
That sparked the inevitable conflict: Rose and Butler couldn't coexist.
A new battle had begun.
But Chen Yilun knew the Bulls' infighting was pointless.
In the end, they wouldn't be able to keep either Rose or Butler.
"Probably just a few more days," Chen Yilun sighed, watching the game sink into garbage time.
"We can't make a move yet. We'll wait for the dust to settle before stepping in."
...
"What? Speak up, I can't hear you!"
The next day, Chen Yilun was watching a concert from the VIP seats when Peja suddenly called.
"Boss, what are you doing? Why's it so loud?"
Peja sounded confused. The boss had said he was visiting family in New York—so why did it sound like he was at a concert? Did his relatives happen to be Taylor Swift?
"Don't worry about that! What's up?"
Caught red-handed, Chen Yilun deflected without missing a beat.
"Oh wow, boss, you nailed it. The Bulls just fired head coach Fred Hoiberg! Jim Boylen, the top assistant, is stepping in."
That fast?!
Chen Yilun was stunned. He had figured the Bulls wouldn't resolve things until after Christmas, but the decision came much sooner.
"Alright, got it. Hold off for now. We'll sort it out when I'm back tomorrow."
"Understood. I'll have the team sit tight." Then Peja slipped in, "So, boss... how was the Taylor Swift concert?"
"Of course it was amazing… Wait, why are you gossiping? Just sit tight and wait for me!"
Flustered, Chen Yilun hung up.
"Heh heh heh."
In his Sacramento office, Peja grinned as he listened to the busy tone. "Boss, boss... you've handed me leverage. Time to cash in."
Humming a tune, he leaned back in his chair, already plotting how to maximize his gains.
After the concert, Chen Yilun returned to his hotel. Once he calmed down, he pulled out his phone and made a call.
The line connected within seconds.
"Yilun! I knew you'd call today. I was waiting!"
Jim's hearty laugh came through the receiver.
"Just heard you made it to the top. As your junior, I had to congratulate you."
Relaxing at Jim's words, Chen Yilun joked back.
Though they had never worked together, as fellow disciples they often met during offseasons. Chen Yilun had always liked this straightforward, cheerful Senior.
"I don't buy that the Eastern Hyena suddenly got so generous. I bet this call isn't just for congratulations."
"Nothing gets past you."
Since Jim had already laid it out, Chen Yilun didn't bother with pretense.
"Senior, I've had my eye on Butler for a while now. Just wanted to test the waters."
"If you'd asked me last month, I'd have had to say no. But now? You really do have a shot."
Jim explained, "The team's already decided on the direction: Rose has to go. And Butler's been making noise about leaving too. Your chance has come."
"For real?!"
Chen Yilun lit up.
"Come to Chicago in the next couple days with your people. Some things can't be stopped—Butler's leaving no matter what. Better to sell him while we can still get a good return. The team will agree for sure."