Chaos Is a Ladder

Once he pieced together the full sequence of events, a bitter smile crept across Yang Shuai's lips. He had never expected a boomerang to hit him so squarely. Still, he regained his composure quickly. He didn't regret writing that scouting report; as he had told Cole back then, everything in it was the honest truth. As for the present outcome, it hadn't been decided by the report itself, but simply by LeBron James's inability to stomach anyone telling the truth about him. There was no reason to let someone else's bruised ego drag down his own spirits. It was just a slight pity that he wouldn't get to work alongside Danny Ferry. Ferry had felt just as helpless. The fact that he had been prepared to reassign his existing assistant showed how much he had genuinely believed in Yang Shuai. But in Cleveland, no one could defy that man's wishes—not even the franchise's general manager. Upon returning to Winston-Salem, Yang Shuai wrapped up his final responsibility as Wake Forest's national scouting director: hosting high school prospects on their official visits, including James Harden and Jimmy Butler. After putting together such a sensational season, Wake Forest's appeal on the recruiting trail had skyrocketed, drawing serious interest even from five-star recruits. Once Russell Westbrook declared for the 2007 NBA Draft, that attraction grew especially potent among guards. Under these favorable conditions, Yang Shuai persuaded Harden, ranked seventeenth nationally, to commit to the program. Another significant factor was that Harden, like Westbrook, hailed from Los Angeles and was eager to replicate Westbrook's rapid path to success. As for Butler, graduating from Tomball High School as merely a two-star recruit, he had drawn so little attention that prep school had seemed his only viable option until Yang Shuai offered him this opportunity. Just as Yang Shuai was occupied with recruiting visits, an undeserved storm caught him off guard in the NBA world. Several media outlets began running negative stories about him, mounting an active smear campaign. At best, they dismissed his assembly of the Demon Deacons as sheer dumb luck—a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse. At worst, they spread slander that he had relied on illegal tactics during recruitment, and some even fabricated stories claiming he had sabotaged Cole to engineer his own rise. These sudden allegations dealt a severe blow to his reputation. Yang Shuai reached out to Ian Eagle, hoping he might speak up on his behalf, but Eagle politely declined. An invisible hand was steering public opinion; the most Eagle could disclose was that it was tied to LRMR, the company founded by James and his inner circle①. At the end of the day, Yang Shuai was still only an NAA scout; against a media machine of that magnitude, he had no way to push back. The inevitable result was that invitations for NBA interviews dried up completely. Even though his profile around the league had been climbing, few front offices were eager to tie themselves to someone bearing a controversial label. It was right in the middle of this escalating fallout that Yang Shuai received a phone call from Carroll Dawson. By this point, the first round of the NBA playoffs had concluded. Exactly as Yang Shuai had anticipated, the Rockets—after taking the first two games on the road—were ultimately overturned 4–3 by the Jazz, crashing out in the first round yet again. Yang Shuai's interview prediction had come true, yet Dawson was calling to inform him that the franchise had decided to appoint Daryl Morey as their new general manager. "I had a talk with Daryl," Dawson said over the line, trying to persuade him. "Once he learned about your grasp of data analytics, he was very eager to work with you as well. Hanson, won't you reconsider?" "Mr. Dawson, I've already made my stance clear." Yang Shuai could accept serving as an assistant to almost anyone else, but certainly not Morey the dog. "Well, then I can only hope we'll have an opportunity to collaborate in the future. Best of luck to you." After hanging up, Yang Shuai couldn't resist silently cursing LeBron James. He hadn't held high hopes for the Rockets to begin with, since Morey had long been groomed as Dawson's successor; Alexander's attitude during the interview and Dawson's earlier remarks had already indicated that his chances of landing the GM job were slim. But the Rockets had dragged their feet until now to make a decision, which suggested that someone in the organization had been tempted to take the gamble—such as Dawson, who had still tried to keep him on board even after the choice was finalized. One could hardly say the franchise's ultimate verdict had nothing to do with the recent barrage of negative press. The straw that breaks the camel's back is often just that—a single straw. His perception of LeBron James shifted completely in that instant. In his previous life, Yang Shuai had always held a fairly neutral view of James. He respected his professionalism; being able to perform as a franchise cornerstone past the age of forty was proof of an awe-inspiring discipline. But just as he had noted in that scouting report, James lacked sufficient self-awareness and was overly obsessed with manufacturing his image, which had sparked endless controversy throughout his career. So even when James had cost him the Cavaliers job, Yang Shuai hadn't harbored much resentment. Anyone had the right to refuse working with someone they didn't like, and at bottom, it was merely one lost job opportunity. Now, however, James had crossed into petty retaliation—the kind aimed at destroying someone's livelihood. That vindictive streak gave Yang Shuai ample reason to believe all the rumors from his past life about James manipulating the media. Exhaling a long breath, Yang Shuai gradually steadied his emotions. Anger solved nothing. The setback didn't demoralize him; if anything, it only hardened his resolve. LeBron didn't want him in the NBA? Then the NBA was precisely where he was going. He picked up his phone again and found Jerry West's name in his contacts. West had told him to reach out whenever he needed help. That time was now. Two days later, Yang Shuai attended Wake Forest's commencement ceremony, tossing his cap into the air alongside his classmates and officially bringing his college career to a close. Afterward, he returned to Los Angeles. His "parents'" Chinese restaurant had closed down before his graduation. While it had successfully spared him the burden of student loans, it had also cut off the family's source of income. Back home, Yang Shuai took a dishwashing job at a bar—the exact sort of gig *Yilin* always romanticized as a path to striking it rich. In reality, the pay was abysmal. Even though wages had doubled since the 1990s, the hourly rate was still only six dollars, and he had to grind from six in the evening until two in the morning. Toward the end of May, he traveled to Hayward in Alameda County, a city situated between Los Angeles and San Francisco of a size comparable to Winston-Salem. He had come to visit Jerry West, fulfilling the arrangement they had made over the phone to meet once West finished wrapping up his duties in Memphis and returned to California. Just as Yang Shuai knew, West had recently stepped down as general manager of the Grizzlies. Perhaps freed from the heavy burdens of office, West looked far more relaxed and at ease than he had at the party. He even invited Yang Shuai to play a round of golf with him. Yang Shuai had never played before, but West didn't seem to care. Yang Shuai figured it would be worth picking up the sport down the road; it looked far more therapeutic than sitting in a conference room. "So, how can I help you?" After they finished discussing the troubles Yang Shuai had run into and his current situation, West swung his club, following through smoothly as he posed the question. "I want to join the Lakers," Yang Shuai said, getting straight to the point. "Oh? Why the Lakers?" Even after stepping down as Grizzlies GM, West was still 'The Logo.' With his recommendation, securing an interview would be effortless. "Because they suit me best," Yang Shuai replied simply. During his time washing dishes at the bar, the mindless mechanical routine had given him plenty of space to clear his head. Ever since Dell Curry's party, things had moved from an NBA foot in the door to a front-office role, then assistant general manager, and eventually even a real shot at becoming a GM. Everything had unfolded far too smoothly, far too fast. It was only during those late shifts that he realized he had subconsciously gotten caught up in chasing ever-higher titles while neglecting the most vital question: which team was actually the right fit for him? The rank of a post only dictated the baseline difficulty of his start, but what truly determined ultimate success was the platform. Choice mattered far more than effort. His Wake Forest experience was a prime example: it was winning the title in the A League that had seized the NBA's attention. Looking across the league through the lens of a transmigrator, the two teams best positioned to contend for next season's championship were the Celtics—who had won it in historical reality—and the Lakers. In theory, both franchises were currently mired in a trough, but Boston was likely already orchestrating the Big Three trade; his arrival wouldn't change anything there. The Lakers, on the other hand, were completely directionless. Above all, Kobe Bryant would demand a trade this summer, and that turmoil presented Yang Shuai with his greatest opening. "I should warn you," West said, resting his club against the turf. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a serious look. "The Lakers are in complete chaos." As one of the league's premier powerhouse franchises, Lakers legends took immense pride in having worn the jersey. But anyone who had ever worked in their front office quickly found that pride supplanted by helplessness and fury. Just as West had said, the franchise's management was an utter mess. Yang Shuai didn't mind in the slightest. He merely smiled and said, "Chaos is a ladder." West stared at him blankly for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter. It wasn't mockery, but a fond, wistful realization: It's good to be young. *** ① A company founded by LeBron James and his close friends Randy Mims, Maverick Carter, and Rich Paul. Named after their first initials and also known as the "Four Horsemen," it oversees James's business ventures.