February in Los Angeles was still bone-chillingly cold,
but even that couldn't cool the city's basketball fever.
This year's All-Star Weekend was being hosted at the Staples Center. Since the Clippers' new arena still wasn't finished, they continued sharing the building with the Lakers.
Walking through the lively L.A. streets, watching the crowds move in waves, Chen Yilun couldn't help feeling a bit envious.
"Big cities really are something else. So many people, so much energy. Nothing like how deserted Sacramento feels."
Prince, following behind him, echoed the sentiment.
"Isn't that the truth? Small market, small crowds—can't do anything about it."
They had come to Los Angeles early, partly to continue discussions on the LeVert trade, and partly to soak in the city's glamor.
"Hey, boss! Look ahead!"
Prince suddenly pointed toward a group approaching them.
"Who is it?"
Chen Yilun took a closer look and immediately recognized the familiar figures.
It was Kobe Bryant and his family.
As one of L.A.'s greatest icons, Kobe never moved around without an entourage.
Seeing Kobe heading their way, Chen Yilun instinctively prepared to slip out of view. After all, he was here on a mission—best to avoid being spotted by the media. But Kobe had sharp eyes and instantly noticed Prince.
They'd been opponents for years; back in the day, Prince and Hamilton's perimeter "iron fortress" gave Kobe plenty of headaches.
"Tayshaun! Long time no see!"
Kobe walked over with a wide grin.
Realizing there was no escape, Prince returned the smile.
"Kobe! Long time."
After they greeted each other, Kobe quickly noticed Chen Yilun standing off to the side.
"You're… Yilun!"
He recognized him at once and strode over, greeting him with the easy familiarity of an old friend.
"Haven't seen you since I retired, right?"
"Yeah, that's right."
Chen Yilun smiled stiffly, already thinking about how to get out of this.
In just the span of a few seconds, he had already spotted several cameras trained on him from different angles.
"How long are you staying in L.A.? It's been ages—we should catch up."
Kobe said this while pulling his family forward to introduce them.
"This is my wife, Vanessa, and my eldest daughter, Natalia, and my second daughter, Gigi!"
Seeing Kobe's still-young daughters, something in Chen Yilun softened.
He had to save this legendary figure someday.
But he couldn't say anything right now—otherwise Kobe would just think he was some kind of fortune-telling lunatic.
"Are you watching the All-Star Game this year?" Kobe asked.
"If you are, don't take the seats the league gives you. I'll set you up with a pair of great ones."
Before Chen Yilun could even think of how to reply, Kobe had already switched into full big-brother mode, arranging things as he pleased.
"No, no, no—the league seats are fine."
Chen Yilun waved quickly. "People like us don't even like sitting courtside anyway. Besides, I've got business to take care of this trip, so I might not even make it to the game. Don't waste those seats."
Kobe realized then that Chen Yilun must have other affairs to handle in Los Angeles.
"Right, right—go take care of your stuff."
Kobe pulled out his phone. "Before I retired it wasn't convenient to ask for your number, but now I'm a free man. Let's keep in touch."
After exchanging numbers, something suddenly occurred to Chen Yilun. He asked with a sly grin:
"Kobe, don't tell me you're also eyeing a stake in our team—thinking about becoming a minority owner?"
He was referring to something from his early days on the job. When Ranadivé had just taken over the Kings, he wanted to boost the franchise's visibility. So he sold a 3% ownership stake at a very low price to the newly retired Shaquille O'Neal.
To this day, O'Neal remained a minority owner of the Kings.
"I'm not thinking about that,"
Kobe chuckled. "You guys already have Shaq over there. No need for me to add to the crowd."
After wrapping things up with Kobe, Chen Yilun finally escaped the spotlight.
"What's the situation on their side?"
Hearing his question, Prince checked his messages.
"Looks like everything's nearly in place. They're probably about done too. Who are we meeting first?"
"Hmm…"
Chen Yilun thought for a moment, watching Kobe's figure fade into the distance.
"Well, since we already ran into Kobe, even if our whereabouts get exposed, it's their home turf—he'll probably help cover for us. Let's go meet the Magic Man first."
"Got it!"
...
...
In the Lakers' conference room, seated across from Chen Yilun, were the team's current figurehead, "Magic" Johnson, and head coach Luke Walton.
"Luke? You're here too?"
As soon as he entered, Chen Yilun spotted Walton sitting beside Magic.
"Yilun."
Walton acknowledged him with a polite, reserved nod.
After all, he was a apprentice of Steve Kerr—who was Chen Yilun's senior. Technically, that made Chen Yilun his senior in the coaching tree—even though Chen was actually a few years younger.
Seeing Walton's chilly response, Chen Yilun didn't bother being friendly.
A third-rate coach who had made a living off Kerr's reputation wasn't someone he needed to curry favor with.
"Magic."
Chen Yilun sat down, pulling out his documents. "This isn't something that needed an emergency meeting, right? I never said I wouldn't sell draft picks. Why can't we just handle this during the draft? Why drag me here in the middle of this chaos?"
"Hehehe."
Magic's trademark warm smile didn't budge.
"The draft is still months away. We're not as rich as you. Better to secure things early—better in hand than in the wind!"
"Alright, alright."
Chen Yilun waved dismissively and continued.
"I've got four first-round picks: the Knicks' top-five protected one, the Wizards', the Nets', and our own. As for second-rounders... let me check."
He flipped through his notebook.
"Here—Wizards, Spurs, Heat…
And our own second-rounder was traded out, but since it's heavily protected, we'll most likely get it back. Just tell me your price range."
Before he could finish, Prince cut him off.
"Boss, that 2018 Wizards second-rounder already went to Cleveland in the Rose trade."
"Oh, right!"
Chen Yilun slapped his forehead dramatically.
"Too many picks—I can't keep track anymore. No Wizards second-rounder. The rest is yours to choose from."