"I don't get it!"
Steve Kerr paced back and forth in the room. "It was the perfect chance! How could Chen Yilun just talk to Durant for a few minutes and suddenly make him flip his attitude 180 degrees?"
"Because Chen Yilun said something Durant couldn't stomach."
Jerry West stepped in from outside, a phone still in his hand.
"I just talked to Rich. Chen Yilun told Durant something."
West's voice carried a bite of anger.
"He said, 'Before Durant came to us, we were already champions.'"
"What?!"
Kerr jumped up like a startled cat.
"How could he say that?!"
If the Warriors were following the usual rules of negotiation, then Chen Yilun's remark was nothing short of a direct face-slap—a declaration of war. It was basically saying, 'Maybe I can't get you, but I'll make sure the Warriors don't either.'
"What's he trying to do? He's just asking for trouble—making enemies for no reason!"
Kerr couldn't make sense of Chen Yilun's move. It wasn't even something he said privately to Durant—sports reporters would definitely dig that up.
Once that quote hit the press, Oakland and Sacramento would be locked in a blood feud.
"What else could he be after?"
West, now calmer, gave a cold smile.
"He only cares about winning a championship. If he can't beat us this year, and if we actually land Durant, then his Kings are done for."
"So he'd rather sabotage our deal—even if it means he gets nothing—just to keep his own shot alive in the West."
"So what do we do now?"
Kerr looked to West like a drowning man grabbing a life raft.
Even though Kerr's career seemed to be shining, he knew how green he was compared to someone like Chen Yilun—he wasn't that kind of genius. When it came to big decisions, he depended heavily on West's judgment.
"Since things are already like this…"
West thought for a moment, then nodded to himself.
"Durant understands what's at stake. So let's be direct. Use Curry's personal bond with him. Make him feel confident—let him know that even if he ends up against the whole league, we'll stand firmly with him."
"But why would I want to go against the whole league?!"
Durant's frustration boiled over.
That same idea had come up earlier that night during his team's internal meeting, but Durant had immediately shot it down.
"I'm just trying to play basketball and win a championship on a new team—why do I have to become the villain?"
Durant's question left Rich scratching his head.
"Because…"
After a long pause, Rich finally forced out a line. "Because going to Golden State is the easiest way to win a championship. Isn't that what you want? If you go there, the title's basically guaranteed."
"But still—"
Durant rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated.
"I do want a championship, but that just feels cheap."
"What's cheap about it?" Seeing Durant's tone soften, Rich quickly pressed on.
"Winners make history, losers get forgotten. That's just how the world works. Once you get that ring, who's going to criticize you?"
"Not necessarily."
A calm voice interrupted.
It came from the only woman in the room—Durant's mother.
"Look at that 'King' from the East. He went to Miami to play so-called brotherhood basketball, and even after two rings, the criticism never stopped."
"And if our Kevin goes to Golden State, it won't just be joining the enemy—it won't even have that 'brotherhood' excuse to fall back on. I can't imagine how much backlash he'd face."
Durant's mother had always been easygoing—she never interfered in her son's decisions. As long as he was happy, that was enough.
But after sitting through a full day of these meetings, even she sensed something was off.
She might not understand the league's politics or inner workings, but a mother's instinct told her that something about this didn't feel right.
"Honestly, Sacramento sounds like a good option," she murmured quietly.
"They made a solid offer, and they're sincere about it. If it weren't for Chen Yilun, you wouldn't even know half of what's going on."
The moment she spoke, Rich felt his stomach drop.
Durant adored his mother—whatever she said carried enormous weight.
Meanwhile, meetings were popping up all over Oklahoma City. Every team executive was trying their best to win over the superstar scorer, each using their own tricks.
It wasn't until the third day that Chen Yilun's group managed to secure another meeting.
"Kevin, have you come to a decision?"
Chen Yilun greeted cheerfully as soon as he stepped in, unfazed by the hostile glare from Durant's agent.
"Of course I've been thinking it over carefully."
Durant smiled faintly and motioned for Chen Yilun's group to sit down.
"Mr. Chen, I assume you've brought some new good news this time?"
Rich spoke up the moment Chen sat, his tone openly hostile.
But Chen Yilun ignored him completely and looked straight at Durant.
"Our offer hasn't changed—it's still the most sincere and competitive one allowed under the rules. What I can promise is that you won't be painted as a villain with us, and your shot at a championship will be as high as anywhere."
"But Golden State already guaranteed we'll win the title next year if we join, and New York's offering not just salary but endorsement deals too."
Rich kept pushing.
Finally, Chen Yilun turned his head toward him—just one glance.
That one cold, expressionless look—filled with quiet menace—was enough to make Rich Kleiman fall silent.
In that moment, he realized how much he'd underestimated Chen Yilun. That youthful face belonged to the newly appointed President of Basketball Operations for the Kings—one of the few in the league with real influence, well-connected among the league's elite.
Maybe Chen's deal meant Rich would earn less money, but crossing this man could easily mean no money at all.
"If I were the Warriors, I'd make that promise too," Chen said with a bright smile after shutting Rich up with his gaze.
"With that roster plus you, anyone could guarantee a ring. But that's exactly why you shouldn't go."
"Sports are exciting because of their uncertainty—that's what keeps fans watching. If you go to Golden State, you erase that unpredictability. What's the point of the game then?"
"But if you come to me, I can't promise it'll happen next year—but within two years, I'll get you that championship ring."