"Sizzle!"
Fresh leafy greens hit the pan with a crisp, satisfying sound.
"What are you doing standing right behind me? This kitchen's already tiny!"
Chen Yilun shot an annoyed glance at Tang Zhou, who was hovering at his back looking busy but doing nothing.
"Sir, I'm just here to help."
Tang Zhou looked at him with those uniquely clear eyes of his.
"Don't mess around!" Chen Yilun waved him off. "Go to the living room and take care of the guests."
With that, he shooed Tang Zhou out.
Meanwhile, in the living room, two familiar Chinese faces—one tall, one short—were seated.
"Mr. Yao, Mr. Zhang, would you like some more water?"
Tang Zhou approached with the kettle, asking politely.
"No need, just sit down and chat with us."
Director Zhang, who hadn't been around in a long while, grinned warmly and motioned for Tang Zhou to sit by his side.
"Tang, how's work over here?"
Since he'd been recommended by "Silver Fox" Harris, Tang Zhou's presence already marked him as a second-generation figure in Chinese basketball circles. Naturally, Director Zhang knew him.
"Very good!"
Tang Zhou nodded quickly. "Mr Chen takes great care of me, even gives me extra lessons. The atmosphere on the team is excellent. Honestly, I've learned more this season than I did in all my years of college combined."
"That's good, that's very good."
Director Zhang beamed, then turned toward the other man on the sofa. "See? This is what I call hope. I've always said our basketball ecosystem isn't just about developing players—we can't neglect professional talents like Tang either."
"Exactly."
Yao Ming, hunched slightly on the sofa, nodded seriously.
Since Chen Yilun began working with Sacramento, the national team's focus on them had risen sharply. That friendly game last year had made the Kings a prized partner for the Basketball Association—so much so that they'd even overshadowed the Rockets, their longtime allies.
So Zhang and Yao's joint visit clearly meant they had business to discuss with Chen Yilun.
"Wash your hands, dinner's ready!"
Chen Yilun, apron tied at his waist, called out from the kitchen doorway as he carried the dishes over.
Four people, six dishes, and one soup.
With Yao Ming there, Chen Yilun had made sure to prepare larger portions.
By all logic, he should have treated them to a meal outside, especially since his relationship with Director Zhang wasn't particularly close.
But with Yao Ming there, it was different.
For Chen Yilun, as a Chinese fan, Yao wasn't just a legend—he was a living symbol of the nation's basketball. He had even taken a photo with him just moments earlier.
And so, this home-cooked meal came to be.
At the same time, it served as a signal to the mainland that cooperation could continue.
"What a feast today!"
Director Zhang laughed heartily, pulling out a chair to sit.
"This trip was worth it, Yao. Getting a meal cooked by Mr. Chen himself? I bet we're the only two in the country with that honor."
Yao Ming chuckled, though his eyes stayed fixed on the dishes.
"This is just a family dinner—make yourselves at home. No need for formalities!"
Chen Yilun raised his glass, and the four of them clinked cups before digging in.
"Mr. Chen..."
After the meal, Director Zhang casually steered the conversation.
"The Olympics are right around the corner. What expectations do you have for the national team?"
"The Olympics..."
Chen Yilun was sipping rib soup when the question caught him off guard. He choked, sending broth straight up his nose.
"Whoa, you okay?"
Director Zhang quickly patted his back, helping him recover.
"The Olympics."
Catching his breath, Chen Yilun paused, then chose his words carefully.
"Personally... I think it's more about participation this time."
Director Zhang's smile froze.
"You don't believe in our chances either?"
"It's tough."
Chen Yilun shook his head, took another sip from his bowl, and went on.
"Sure, we played well at this year's Asian Championships, but honestly, it's still going to be a struggle."
"Basketball worldwide has changed so much in the past two years. We're still the kings of Asia, but from where I stand..."
He hesitated, then spoke plainly.
"Basketball in Asia is still behind the global game. And domestically, we don't have a true game-changer. To make an impact at the Olympics—it's just too difficult."
The table fell silent.
"There's really no way?"
After a long pause, Yao Ming finally spoke.
As the cornerstone of the last generation's national team, no one understood the current struggles better than him.
"It's hard."
Chen Yilun sighed. "At least this year will be. But if we want to maintain this level, or even move forward in the future, we have to break into the NBA."
"Only by entering the highest stage and enduring its relentless trials can we keep pace with the world."
In truth, that was exactly what the country had been trying to do.
Since Yao's retirement, Yi Jianlian had taken over as the team's cornerstone. But compared to Yao's era, the gap was enormous. That's why China had been working hard to get Asian faces back into the league.
Veterans like Yi Jianlian still had the chance, and younger players also had potential opportunities to reach the NBA.
"The gap's really that wide already?"
Yao Ming's tone carried a heavy weight.
"You must have watched this year's playoffs. I'm not trying to be pessimistic, but just the intensity of any playoff series—it's more than we can handle right now."
Chen Yilun finished speaking, grabbed the bottle in front of him, poured himself a full glass, and drained it in one gulp.
Sensing the mood darken, the ever-shrewd Director Zhang quickly shifted the subject.
"Enough of that. As long as we keep moving forward, the sun will rise for us again."
"Mr. Chen, on another note—this year's Finals? Honestly, I don't think they're as exciting as your Western Conference Finals. The Warriors look unstoppable!"
At that moment, the Warriors-Cavaliers showdown was in full swing.
The Warriors already held a commanding 3–1 lead.
LeBron James and his Cavaliers were on the brink, and many media outlets had started hyping a Warriors repeat championship.
"The Finals? Hard to say."
Chen Yilun smiled faintly.
By now, he didn't dare claim to see the future.
His presence had already scrambled this year's playoffs. Whether James and the Cavaliers could recreate the miracle of 2016... even Chen Yilun had no answer.
"Mr. Chen."
Director Zhang shifted gears again. "We also came here for something else. The country wants to know—would you be interested in going with the team to Rio?"
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser