"Ben McLemore?"
Hearing that somewhat forgotten name, Ujiri frowned slightly.
"Why would I be interested in a benchwarmer?"
"You're being too narrow-minded!"
Hearing his little spark plug being slandered, Chen Yilun quickly jumped to McLemore's defense.
"He's only been sidelined because our roster's too crowded this year. The guy's got real talent."
Then, as if recalling something, Chen added, "Just two seasons ago, he was our starting shooting guard in the Western Conference Finals! There's nothing wrong with his ability."
"Don't start selling me your own leftovers."
Ujiri didn't believe a word of it.
"Hey, don't be so sure."
Chen Yilun scooted his chair a little closer, his tone suddenly conspiratorial.
"I'll send him over for a workout—you'll see for yourself. Trust me, he's solid!"
Under Chen's persistent persuasion, Ujiri's stance began to waver.
After all, players developed in the Chen Yilun–Malone system had a reputation for being well-polished. And Ben had been in that system longer than anyone else… Could he really be a hidden gem?
Ujiri finished his coffee in one long sip, then stood up.
"Fine. Have him come over for a trial. My first choice is still Bojan—but if the price is right, I can consider Ben."
With that, he turned and left. The league was in chaos, and the Raptors needed their GM back at the helm.
Watching Ujiri's figure disappear, Chen Yilun slowly rose from his seat.
He couldn't deny it—Ujiri was right about one thing. There was still a mountain of work left to do.
He glanced down at the long list on his phone and felt a wave of fatigue hit him.
Free agency would open on July 1st, and there was still a pile of preparation ahead.
...
The day after the draft, renowned sports reporter Woj dropped a bomb on Twitter:
"Kevin Durant will exercise his player option and stay with the Sacramento Kings!"
It wasn't exactly a surprise.
After all, Durant had just won both the championship and the Finals MVP—there was no reason for him to leave.
While that tweet was lighting up social media, Chen Yilun was sitting in a meeting room in Sacramento with the front office, all eyes fixed on a slightly uneasy Nikola Jokic.
"Nikola, what's there to hesitate about?"
Chen Yilun tried to keep his tone gentle.
"You're not unhappy here, are you?"
"No, no!"
Jokic waved his hands quickly.
"I've been really happy here these past two years. The coaches treat me well, and the organization shows me plenty of respect. I love this team."
There wasn't much to complain about in Sacramento.
For a second-round pick, Jokic had spent most of his first three seasons as the team's starting center—and this year, he'd even won a championship in that role.
Looking back, it all felt almost like a fairy tale.
But now, he stood at a crossroads.
Should he chase a bigger contract and a larger role elsewhere—or stay in his comfort zone and continue building on what he already had?
Sitting beside him was a middle-aged white man with graying hair—his mentor and agent, the legendary Serbian basketball manager Misko.
It was Misko who had first guided Jokic onto the path of professional basketball, and through his connections, Jokic had once joined European powerhouse FC Barcelona.
In many ways, there would be no Nikola Jokic without Misko.
Out of deep respect, Jokic always took Misko's advice seriously.
"Mr. Chen," Misko began hesitantly, "Nikola is more than happy to stay with the team. It's just… about his role and standing…"
Hearing that, Chen Yilun smiled slightly. He already understood where this was going.
"That won't be a problem."
He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back casually.
"Nikola is an essential part of our future. You've seen the way our system evolved this season—the offense is already built around him. His importance will only continue to grow. You don't have to worry about that."
Misko's expression softened. Chen's assurance had put him somewhat at ease.
"As for the contract," Chen continued before Misko could respond,
"I'd like Nikola to sign a five-year deal, with a player option in the final year. The annual salary would be around twenty million."
A five-year offer—it was a show of commitment. Once signed, Jokic would be tied to the Kings for the long run.
"Twenty million seems a bit low," Misko said, frowning.
"It is," Chen admitted without hesitation.
"If you go to another team, you might get a higher offer. But only we're willing to offer a full five-year contract—and Nikola's still young, still growing."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone steady but persuasive.
"Misko, you're a smart man. Only here, under our system, can Nikola's full potential truly be realized."
Before Misko could answer, Jokic suddenly spoke up from the side, cutting through the silence.
"Coach, I want to stay in Sacramento."
Both men froze for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden statement.
"I'm comfortable here," Jokic went on. "And honestly, we European players aren't exactly built for big markets. A smaller city suits me just fine."
His words were blunt, but they made sense.
American stars might chase markets like Los Angeles or New York, but for a European center like Jokic, a smaller, quieter city was just as good—maybe even better.
Centers didn't have the same commercial pull as flashy guards, and Jokic was never one to chase endorsements anyway.
If he was going to play, he'd rather do it somewhere he felt at home.
Misko nodded slowly.
"I have no objections, then."
He leaned back into his chair, finally relaxing for the first time that day.
"Let Blackstone handle the contract details with your team," he said.
Chen Yilun stood, tidying his documents, and extended his right hand toward Jokic.
"Welcome home, Nikola."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser