Chapter 351: A Flood of Contenders (6)
As soon as Chen Yilun finished speaking, Peja understood what he meant.
If it were a straight trade, the second-round pick Chen Yilun was holding had very little value. Almost no team would be willing to give up real assets just to swap for that pick.
But selling it was a different matter altogether.
A mid-second-round pick like Chen Yilun’s usually carried a price tag of around five million dollars—and even then, it was often a case of having a price but no supply. Many teams, even without a specific target in mind, would still make a blind pick and gamble on future upside. So once Chen Yilun signaled that he was willing to sell the pick, plenty of teams immediately came asking.
“Mr. Chen, how about you give that pick to me?”
The first call came from Nuggets head coach Tim Connelly.
“You guys already have picks this year. What do you need mine for?”
Chen Yilun asked, genuinely puzzled.
“We don’t really have a choice,”
Tim Connelly said with a bitter smile. “There’s no core to develop right now. All we can do is increase our numbers.”
With Nikola Jokić having been taken away by Chen Yilun, the Nuggets were now riddled with holes.
Their most valuable players were only second-year Dejounte Murray and last year’s rookie Malik Monk.
As for this year’s draft,
holding the thirteenth pick, Connelly selected Jerome Robinson from Boston University—a player destined to be a complete nonfactor in the league.
Under circumstances like these, Connelly had gone into full gold-panning mode.
Any young player who looked remotely promising was worth scratching off like a lottery ticket.
He was at the point where even a passing mosquito had to be checked for oil.
“Selling it to you isn’t impossible,”
Chen Yilun said lazily. “It’s just the price…”
“Don’t worry,”
Connelly said, patting his chest. “I’ll give you the highest market price.”
“Deal.”
Just as Chen Yilun finalized the transaction, Adam Silver returned to the stage.
After nonstop announcements, the fatigue on Silver’s face was impossible to hide.
“Now announcing a trade: The Utah Jazz have traded the twenty-second pick to the Phoenix Suns in exchange for the thirty-first pick and two future second-round picks.”
Turning a late first-round pick into a top second-round pick plus two future selections was a deal that reeked of Chen Yilun’s style.
The architect behind this trade was the Jazz’s newly appointed general manager, Vlade Divac.
“Are we sure this is really the right move?”
In the Jazz’s private room, Quin Snyder glanced at Divac, who was playing with his phone, and asked.
“What’s wrong with it?”
Divac put his phone away and replied.
“If I learned anything from being around Chen Yilun these past two years, it’s how to delay payments properly. Besides, we’ve got a secret weapon.”
As he spoke, Divac gave Snyder a knowing look.
That so-called secret weapon was simple—getting the cheat sheet from Chen Yilun.
Long before the draft started, Divac had already chased Chen Yilun down for a list of names. This trade was made specifically to grab a rookie at the right spot.
After the Lakers used the thirtieth pick to select Omari Spellman, league vice president Tatum began announcing the second-round selections.
“The Utah Jazz, with the first pick of the second round, select Jalen Brunson from Villanova University!”
When Vice President Tatum called out that name, Coach Jay Wright—back in Philadelphia—finally let out a long sigh of relief.
This year’s draft had been a huge win for Villanova.
Bridges, DiVincenzo, Spellman, and Brunson—all four players who entered the draft were selected.
Although Villanova was inevitably headed for a downturn with so many departures,
Coach Jay Wright still hoped his players would all land in good situations.
...
“That’s about it.”
Chen Yilun stood up and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Ernie, come out with me for a moment.”
Chen Yilun and Grunfeld walked into the stairwell one after the other.
“Ernie, have you thought about your future work arrangements?”
After checking that no one was around, Chen Yilun asked.
“What thoughts could I possibly have?”
Grunfeld shook his head. “In my current state, I doubt any other team would want me.”
“I’ll give you two options.”
Chen Yilun pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and continued.
“One—stay with me. I’ll make a spot for you and have you work as my deputy.”
“And the second option—”
Chen Yilun lowered his voice.
“I’ll use my connections to get you a general manager position elsewhere, or something even higher. But I’m not running a charity.”
Hearing the second option, Grunfeld’s breathing immediately quickened.
“Then…”
He swallowed and asked, “What’s the price?”
“It’s not really a price,”
Chen Yilun said softly, his words sounding like a devil’s whisper to Grunfeld.
“I want a partnership. Not some loose alliance—but a real, tightly bound collaboration.”
“Got it!”
Grunfeld nodded hard. “So I’ll be your front man—your puppet, right?”
Grunfeld’s blunt interpretation caught Chen Yilun completely off guard. He choked on his smoke and started coughing.
“Cough, cough… it’s not that extreme. You’ll still have plenty of autonomy.”
Just as Chen Yilun was organizing his words, ready to start working Grunfeld over, the old man nodded calmly.
“It’s fine. I accept.”
“You accept?!”
Grunfeld’s overly straightforward agreement left Chen Yilun at a loss.
“You just… agreed that easily?”
“There’s something in it for me. Why wouldn’t I agree?”
Grunfeld gave him a crafty smile. “Yilun, did you forget where I’m from?”
Right.
He really had forgotten that.
Chen Yilun laughed helplessly.
Grunfeld was one of those squid types too.
And squid types were best at turning other people’s resources into value for themselves.
“Then it’s settled.”
Chen Yilun tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it underfoot.
“Once I finish up what I’m dealing with, I’ll handle this for you. Most likely I’ll get the position sorted out for you this summer.”
With that, Chen Yilun turned and hurried off.
“What are you busy with now?”
Grunfeld asked out of curiosity.
“What else could it be?”
Chen Yilun replied without turning back.
“I was planning to bring you in to take over as my team’s general manager. Now that I’m sending you elsewhere, I need to find someone new.”
“Do you already have a candidate? Want me to help you look?”
At this point, what Grunfeld could offer Chen Yilun wasn’t much. A new era had arrived, and most of his old leverage was gone. All that remained was his network within the league.
Grunfeld hurried to catch up.
“I have someone in mind.”
Chen Yilun pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages.
“You should know him—the Rockets’ assistant general manager.”
“His name is Monte McNair.”
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