While Chen Yilun's basketball "supermarket" was bustling with off-season activity, far away in Stockton, tension rippled through the G-League affiliate.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Inside the Stockton training gym, LeVert was running through his drills with machine-like precision, every movement flawless and exact.
"You're here early again?"
Dejounte Murray walked in, a huge backpack slung over his shoulder.
"You're one to talk—I just got here myself."
Seeing Murray, LeVert smiled, set down his ball, and walked over to greet him.
Over the course of last season, the two had become close friends.
As a backcourt duo, LeVert and Murray complemented each other perfectly—one calm and composed, the other fiery and bold.
Thanks to Chen Yilun's habit of stockpiling young talent in the G-League, small cliques had naturally formed.
LeVert and Murray made one pair, Siakam and VanVleet another, and Caruso and Finney-Smith yet another.
Among them, the most synchronized duo was easily Siakam and VanVleet.
It was strange—ever since meeting, those two had clicked instantly, their on-court chemistry so natural it was as if they'd been teammates for years.
"Heard the news?"
Murray started changing his gear as he spoke. "Ben's gone."
"Yeah, I heard!"
LeVert's eyes lit up with interest as he joined him.
"Five years, forty-six million—sign-and-trade to Toronto!"
"Bojan's gone too," Murray said while forcing his foot into his sneaker.
"Three years, forty-two million to New Orleans. The team didn't even bother matching."
"And CJ? Rumors are flying—one day it's San Antonio, the next it's New York."
"They're all leaving, huh."
LeVert sighed, but when their eyes met, both caught the same glimmer of ambition in the other's gaze.
No one who made it this far wanted to waste their best years in the G-League.
With three perimeter players leaving the main roster, their shot had finally arrived.
From last season's championship lineup, only Booker and Josh Richardson remained among the guards and wings. Next season, the team would have to call someone up—and they knew it could be them.
"Train hard and play even harder," Murray said, standing after lacing his shoes and starting to stretch.
"Next season, it's our time to shine!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," LeVert teased.
"Wasn't it you who got chewed out by Coach Malone all last year? Secure your rotation spot first before talking big."
As they joked, both of their phones buzzed at the same time.
"Big Chen and Coach Malone are here!"
Murray blinked at the message in surprise.
"Probably bringing the two new rookies," LeVert guessed immediately.
"Could be the day they pick who's moving up."
The thought sent a surge of nerves through both of them. After all, this could decide their futures.
...
"You two will stay here for now. Once there's room, we'll bring you up."
In the Stockton team office, Chen Yilun sat casually on the sofa, with Ajali and Coach Malone standing on either side.
In front of them stood the team's two new rookies—OG Anunoby and Dillon Brooks.
The two stood stiffly, listening like students awaiting their teacher's verdict.
"No need to worry," Chen said, scanning the room. He spotted an ashtray on Ajali's desk, lit a cigarette, and took a slow drag.
"Leaving you here is just temporary. When there's an opening, we'll call you up."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke and continued.
"This is part of our team culture. Look at last year's rookies—they trained here for a season. When the team needed people, they stepped right in."
With his usual mix of reassurance and authority, Chen had both rookies nodding obediently, their anxiety replaced by half-belief and half-hope.
Once he finished, he handed them over to Ajali to get settled, leaving only him and Malone in the room.
"You really don't plan to make any more moves?" Malone finally asked once they were gone.
"After the title, we've lost a bunch of players. You're not going to reinforce the roster?"
"Reinforce what?" Chen replied bluntly, taking one last puff before crushing the cigarette in the ashtray.
"With the roster we have now, even if we lose one or two, we're still a championship team. Instead of overspending in free agency, I'd rather give our young guys a shot."
"But I heard…" Malone lowered his voice.
"Some of the Western teams are gearing up for a serious run at us next season."
"Hmph."
Chen let out a sharp breath through his nose.
"Let them try. As long as we're still here, they don't stand a chance."
"Still, better safe than sorry," Malone cautioned.
Seeing Chen's unwavering confidence, Malone couldn't bring himself to argue further. He just quietly reminded him to stay alert.
After all, Chen always seemed to know what was coming before anyone else.
Even the trade rumors Malone had caught wind of were enough to make his scalp tingle—moves that, if misplayed, could really bring them down.
But looking at his partner's calm, self-assured demeanor, Malone swallowed his unease.
That remarkable guy had never once let him down.
...
At that same moment, in a conference room in Los Angeles, Daryl Morey sat across from an old man who made him feel like he was facing a storm.
It was Jerry West—back at the table once again.
The Logo himself looked a little older than the last time they met, but even now, his mere presence carried immense pressure.
"Jerry," Morey began after taking a deep breath.
"Your asking price is still too steep. I can't give up key rotation players and draft picks."
"Well, that's the deal," West replied calmly after a light cough.
"You want Chris Paul—that's the minimum price."
"But Beverley and Lou Williams, plus two first-rounders?"
Sweat began to form on Morey's forehead.
He'd just traded a first-round pick last season to get Lou Williams from the Lakers. Now, this deal involved three firsts in total.
"And Hernangomez, Liggins, Dekker? You're gutting half my roster for one player!" Morey finally snapped.
"Exactly," West rasped, his voice low but unyielding.
"I want to strip your house bare. The only question is—are you willing to pay the price?"