"Something's off. Way off!"
Sitting on the plane, CJ scratched his head and muttered under his breath.
"What the hell are you mumbling about?"
Guy plopped down across from CJ with a cup of iced Americano.
"I said something feels off over there."
CJ discreetly pointed upward with his finger.
"You little..."
Hearing CJ's words, Guy stood up and smacked him on the forehead.
"Don't ask what you shouldn't."
Guy took a sip of the bitter coffee, speaking nonchalantly.
"Let the higher-ups handle the matters above. This isn't something we can get involved in. You just focus on playing your game."
It wasn't just CJ; many on the team sensed the unease within management. The once lively plane had grown eerily quiet.
The front seats were always reserved for Malone and Chen Yilun. They used to love hiding up front, chatting about anything and everything. But now, sitting face-to-face, they hadn't exchanged a single word.
Chen Yilun sat with his legs crossed, focused on a newspaper. Across from him, Malone squirmed uncomfortably, unsure how to break the silence.
"I was too impatient."
After what felt like an eternity, Malone finally spoke, criticizing himself. He knew he bore primary responsibility for the loss, especially since Chen Yilun had warned him earlier not to obsess over the five-forward lineup.
"Actually, it's not your fault."
Contrary to Malone's expectations, Chen Yilun didn't criticize him. Instead, he cheerfully put away the newspaper and looked Malone straight in the eye.
"The era of small-ball is here to stay. We're all feeling our way forward. Put yourself in my shoes—if I had the chance to try a five-forward lineup, I wouldn't be able to resist either.
After all, if it worked, it would've been groundbreaking. That kind of temptation is hard to turn down."
Though Chen Yilun was trying to console him, Malone only felt more ashamed, wishing he could crawl into a hole.
"I should've trusted you. The super center is the ultimate answer for the future."
"It's not like that."
After carefully choosing his words, Chen Yilun continued.
"I can't always predict the future. Only through constant learning and trial and error can we stand a chance of reaching the summit.
Making it to the Western Conference Finals was already beyond expectations. The owner recognizes that. The Warriors are objectively stronger than us right now—that's the reality. Let's just play out the rest of the series and come back for revenge next season."
"You're not mad at me?"
Listening to Chen Yilun, Malone asked incredulously.
"Why would I be angry?" Chen Yilun finally couldn't help but laugh as he looked at him.
"You're not angry? But yesterday during the game, your..." Malone's words trailed off. "Oh?? So you did that on purpose... Oh!!!"
Seeing Malone finally catch on, Chen Yilun chuckled.
"You gotta play the whole game, right? Otherwise, how else do you lure that crafty guy across the court into the trap?"
Yesterday's move was actually aimed at Steve Kerr—and only Steve Kerr. If Old Man West had been around, he probably would've seen right through the act.
It wasn't that Chen Yilun was too cunning. He just had no other choice.
When you can't match them on the court, you try off-court tactics to see if you can throw them off.
Barring surprises, Golden State should already be buzzing about his situation.
And barring surprises, Jerry West's career was nearing its final chapter. The Warriors were already scouring the world for his successor, and West's interest in Chen Yilun was an open secret across the league.
Chen Yilun's performance in Game 2 had essentially dangled a carrot in front of the Warriors.
After hearing Chen Yilun's words, Malone exhaled deeply, his expression caught between relief and worry.
He was relieved because their partnership—and the core management structure—was intact. But he was worried because even Chen Yilun seemed to have little faith in this playoff series, resorting to performance tricks just to influence the opposition.
"Does this mean we really have no chance?"
Malone frowned.
"It's tough."
With only the two of them present, Chen Yilun let his guard down.
"You're a professional too. You know exactly how big the gap is between us and the Warriors.
Making them suffer a little, forcing them to work harder against us? That's possible. But beating them? I don't see much of a chance."
Chen Yilun rubbed his hands with a sigh.
"Even if we push them to the brink, what if they go all-in with their small lineup and force a shootout? What do we have to counter that?
Butler's tough, and we've got some inside presence, but that still can't compare to those two brothers draining threes from anywhere.
His words made Malone shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"You're not wrong, but that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"
"Cut the crap."
Chen Yilun showed him no mercy, taking a sip of water before continuing.
"You know deep down we're running out of gas this year. You just don't want to admit it, old man."
...
Just as Chen Yilun predicted, the Kings struggled after returning home.
Though Sacramento poured the city's full support behind their team, the Warriors came out swinging with deadly intent.
Curry was hounded all game on the perimeter yet still dropped over 40 points, while Thompson fully lived up to his "Splash Brother" name. He nearly single-handedly shredded the Kings' defense in the third quarter.
In the end, the Warriors cruised to a 126–107 victory, effortlessly reclaiming home-court advantage.
"How could they play so poorly?"
In the VIP box, Ranadivé's face was dark as thunderclouds.
"There's nothing we can do. The gap in talent is just too big."
Chen Yilun, seated beside him, patiently explained. "It's normal for the young guys to struggle when adapting to this level for the first time."
When it came to his boss, Chen Yilun had gone from being cautious at first to now speaking as equals. They could even argue when things went wrong.
By now, Chen Yilun had firmly established himself in the league. He had enough clout to walk away if he wanted, no longer needing to tiptoe around Ranadivé's moods.
More importantly, when Chen Yilun first entered the league, Ranadivé, afraid he'd get shortchanged, had only signed him to a three-year deal. If Chen decided to leave after this season, the buyout penalty would be shockingly low.
Ranadivé also feared that Chen might walk away at the slightest dissatisfaction, so he often accommodated him whenever possible.
"The team's raw talent just isn't enough."
Seeing the displeasure on Ranadivé's face, Chen Yilun sensed an opportunity and spoke up immediately.
"It's such a shame. After all, the team's salary cap has been pressed right up against the limit, and management hasn't had enough room to make the necessary reinforcements."