Peja let out a massive yawn.
It was so contagious that half the office followed suit, until the place was filled with the sound of yawns.
At his desk, Chen Yilun scratched his hair in frustration as he watched the ripple effect.
"Seriously!"
He knocked his knuckles hard against the wooden table.
"If you're tired, go home and sleep. We don't have any trades to make. Why are you all crowding around me?"
He really didn't get it. He'd been lying low for over two months, rejecting every trade request that came his way.
So why were they all camping in his office tonight? What was the point of pulling an all-nighter?
"No way!"
Divac yawned again before speaking. "This is league tradition—ancestral rules. Can't be broken!"
Chen Yilun, mid-sip of water, almost spat it out.
Divac, you bearded old man, playing this game too?
"The main thing is..."
Peja rubbed his reddened eyes. "We need to get the first-hand info tonight, and figure out what the other teams are really up to."
"Wouldn't it be the same after waking up tomorrow?"
Chen Yilun couldn't hold back. "You always say we're too rigid, but looks like you've got your own brand of stubbornness too!"
While the group bantered, the clock's hands crept forward.
When it finally struck midnight, even Chen Yilun felt a bit of curiosity about what was coming.
"Beep beep beep!"
Schmitz's phone buzzed first.
He glanced at the message. "Boss, the Thunder sent DJ Augustin, Steve Novak, and two second-round picks to the Nuggets for Randy Foye!"
"Trading a dollar for a dime."
Chen Yilun chuckled.
Honestly, it was a bit of a loss for the Thunder.
Two players plus two second-rounders for Randy Foye? That's a steal.
And with his contract expiring this summer, he'd be an unrestricted free agent.
At least the Nuggets managed to salvage some assets at the last minute—Tim Connelly would be going to bed smiling tonight.
After Schmitz spoke up, other phones started buzzing too.
That's just how the league worked. As one commentator once said: NBA front offices are like a leaky sieve. If an insider wanted news, it was way too easy to get.
"The Wizards made a move too."
Divac looked serious after hanging up.
"They sent Humphries, DeJuan Blair, and three second-round picks to the Suns. Got back Markieff Morris!"
"Markieff Morris?"
That one actually sparked a bit of interest from Chen Yilun.
The Morris brothers had been quality forwards these past two years. The Wizards must've realized their weakness at the wing and didn't want to waste this season—time for an all-in gamble.
In the original timeline, the Wizards used a protected first-round pick to get Big Morris. But with their draft stock already gutted by Chen Yilun, their cupboard was bare. So a first turned into three seconds.
As for Humphries, Chen Yilun only remembered him as the first casualty of the Kardashian clan. A rising star completely locked down, only to fade away from the league.
"Ernie Grunfeld finally cracked. With Markieff, the Wizards' roster balance looks a lot better. If they can gel before the playoffs, they could stir things up."
"The Pistons traded Ilyasova and Jennings to the Magic for Tobias Harris."
Earlier this season, Detroit brought in Reggie Jackson from the Thunder, cementing him as their core. Moving Jennings was about clearing ball-handling duties for Reggie.
The Magic's thinking was similar. They wanted to develop Gordon, which made Harris redundant.
Jennings gave Payton someone to practice with, and Ilyasova could play the budget version of Harris. Win-win.
"What else?"
Chen Yilun propped his chin on one hand, looking around, bored.
"That's it? You kept me up all night for these trades?"
No wonder he wasn't impressed. These were just minor fixes, nothing exciting. Not a single blockbuster.
"Well... the Clippers sent Lance Stephenson and a future first-rounder to the Grizzlies for Jeff Green."
Peja had dug through the pile of small trades before finally finding one barely worth mentioning.
LeBron's biggest agitator, Stephenson, only brought chaos-ball energy, but the Clippers already had Crawford. Trading him for Jeff Green, who could swing between the 3 and 4, was a clear win.
And that first-rounder?
Who cares. Doc Rivers doesn't develop rookies anyway.
"Yeah, yeah, got it." Chen Yilun waved it off, listening half-heartedly. "That's all?"
"That's all."
Peja scratched his head, a little embarrassed. They'd hyped Chen Yilun into pulling an all-nighter, expecting something big, only for the league to deliver a complete dud.
"Boring."
Chen Yilun grabbed the suit from his chair and slipped it on.
"Everyone, go rest. Tomorrow morning—" He stopped and laughed at himself. "Forget the meeting. No point in that now."
Yawning, he walked out without looking back.
No wonder he felt deflated. A whole night of noise and anticipation, only for a handful of small moves—and most of them in the East.
What was there to even analyze? Why study opponents you wouldn't face in the playoffs?
...