Chapter 88: The Rush
At two in the morning, Chen Yilun, still alone in the hospital, finally received the confirmed medical report.
“Sprained medial collateral ligament in the left knee. Fortunately, it’s not Grade 3. But it’s definitely a Grade 2 sprain, so he’ll need some time off,” the team doctor concluded, holding the paper in his hand.
“How long will the recovery take?”
“Hard to say.” The doctor shook his head.
“It depends on CJ’s own healing ability. Two months at the earliest, four months wouldn’t be unusual.”
He glanced at the date. “It’s not catastrophic. At least CJ should be back before the playoffs. But you’ll have to figure out how to handle the regular season without him.”
Chen Yilun drew a deep breath, pressing down his frustration.
“Alright, at least we know what it is. You’ve been up late too—get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll discharge CJ and take him back to Sacramento to recover.”
...
Early the next morning, Chen Yilun boarded the first flight back to Sacramento.
With so much on his plate, CJ’s recovery would have to stay in the team doctor’s hands for now.
“How’s it going? Any news?”
The moment he stepped off the plane, he saw Divac waiting at the arrivals gate with Anjali, both looking utterly exhausted.
“Nothing. Every name you gave me last night fell through.”
Divac was seething with frustration.
“Those bastards know we’re desperate, so they’re all asking sky-high prices.”
While waiting for the report last night, Chen Yilun had drawn up a list of potential trade targets and passed it to Divac to start making calls.
With a core player like CJ injured, it wasn’t just the Kings in disarray—teams across the league could smell blood. Anyone with a backup ball-handler was itching to take advantage.
Chen Yilun, you’ve had it easy for so long—now it’s finally our turn to put you in a bind!
So the GMs all raised their prices together, daring him to take it or leave it.
Chen Yilun raked a hand through his messy, oily hair in frustration.
“No rush. Right now, our top priority is keeping our composure.”
He glanced at Anjali, whose eyes were bloodshot and face drained from fatigue.
“I’ll take care of this. You two clearly haven’t slept all night—go home and rest.”
“Alright. But you need to take care of yourself too,” Divac replied wearily.
“You can’t afford to collapse right now.”
...
Back at his apartment, Chen Yilun splashed cold water on his face to jolt himself awake.
Then he dropped onto the sofa, picking up the report Divac had prepared overnight.
Bledsoe was out of the question.
He’d burned McDonough last season, and that old fox was no doubt still holding a grudge.
Isaiah Thomas was even more impossible—he was Boston’s prized asset, fresh off leading them into the playoffs. There was no way Danny Ainge would let him go.
Chen Yilun skimmed through the rest. In short—every lead was a dead end.
Frustrated, he slammed the report shut and forced himself up from the couch.
Can’t rely on outsiders! Time to call my own people.
He dug through his contacts and dialed a number.
The line rang endlessly. Just as he thought no one would pick up, the call connected.
“Junior, calling me at this hour makes me nervous.”
It was Kerr’s voice.
“Senior, I’m out of options here.” Chen Yilun gave a bitter smile. “I’ve got nothing to work with. I was hoping you might give me a hand.”
“Even the landlord’s run out of grain.” Kerr gave a wry laugh. “I already know what you’re after—you want my Livingston, right?”
“You never miss a thing.”
“It’s not that I don’t value our bond, but I really can’t give him up. Jerry’s got all personnel decisions locked down—I don’t have a say.
Besides, too many eyes are on us now. The ownership is ambitious, set on building a dynasty. If I move Livingston, I’ll be the one taking the fall.”
“But…” Kerr shifted gears. “I can point you in the right direction.”
“Go talk to our elder brother. One of his rookies has been playing well lately. Last time we had dinner, he hinted they might be heading for a rebuild.”
Kerr’s words suddenly lit up Chen Yilun’s mind.
Of course—the Hawks really were reaching that rebuilding stage.
And that rookie Kerr mentioned? None other than Dennis Schröder, who had just begun making a name for himself this season.
Chen Yilun quickly thanked him and hung up.
“Oh? So he’s asking about Schröder?”
Budenholzer paused for a moment.
“It’s not that we can’t move him. But the price…”
“Don’t worry about that—we can work it out.” Chen Yilun jumped in quickly. “But we can’t touch anyone in our current rotation. How about future assets instead?”
“Future assets? Perfect!”
Budenholzer let out a hearty laugh. Chen Yilun’s offer had hit the sweet spot.
After a brief chat, Budenholzer ended the call. He couldn’t be too directly involved—any follow-up would have to be handled between Chen Yilun and the Hawks’ GM.
In the end, you could only count on your own people.
Chen Yilun exhaled deeply as he hung up.
If he could bring Schröder in, it would be a solid solution.
With CJ out, Booker would inevitably step up. What he needed now was a reliable point guard off the bench.
Dragging LaVine back into ball-handling duties again was out of the question.
For two seasons straight, he’d been shuttling LaVine between ball-handler and 3-and-D roles. Doing it again would just waste his development time.
Worse, it could completely derail the kid’s development.
Chen Yilun knew how much potential LaVine had for the future. Protecting him was non-negotiable.
If they wasted him, he’d have nowhere to cry about it.
...
“Oh right, Manager Chen, go ahead! Yes, yes, Coach Bud already mentioned it.”
Hawks General Manager Wes Wilcox spoke with genuine respect.
And he had to.
Budenholzer wasn’t just the Hawks’ head coach anymore—he was also their President of Basketball Operations.
Unlike Chen Yilun, who was an uncrowned king, Budenholzer was the true authority in his organization. His word was final.
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