Chapter 13 (1/2)

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation  Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Upon returning home after an intense training session, Zhang Jun found that his home was honored with the arrival of a guest.

“Zhang Jun, look who’s here?” his dad greeted him.

The visitor turned and Zhang Jun was momentarily speechless. “You?”

“Hehe. We meet again.” Chen Huafeng smiled.

“How did you…”

“I’m your father’s student. I’m here today for a visit,” the reporter explained. “Although I knew my instructor had a son, it never crossed my mind that it’d be you. What a coincidence!”

“Never crossed my mind either.”

“I met him a few years ago when I went drawing in the Taihang Mountains. I stayed in his place while I was there,” Zhang Jun’s father said, patting Huafeng’s back. “He was still a third-year high school student back then; but now, he’s working. How time flies!”

“Yeah! I was at that age then. When Mr. Zhang climbed Taihang for sketches, he stayed at my house; I learned a lot from him during his half-month stay with us. That’s how I developed an interest in photography. The high school exams were after that, and then, I enrolled in Journalism at Fudan University.”

“I heard you went to Shanghai to work after graduation, so how did you end up in Luoyang?” Zhang Weiguo asked.

“Don’t mention that place! Shanghai wasn’t the place for me! I worked for a newspaper, but the Shanghai boss looked at me like I was some sort of thief. I couldn’t stand it, so I resigned.”

“I understand, you can be quite eager.”

“So, I was on another job-hunt, but the employers would reject my applications whenever they heard that I was from Henan. Why do Henan people have such a bad reputation outside of the province? And who should us Henan people be hiring in return? Either way I really couldn’t get myself hired, so I came back to Henan, relocating here in Luoyang.”

Growing disinterested the conversation about “adult problems”, Zhang Jun bid them well and went to his room. He retrieved a copy of High School Soccer from his bag and started reading; the vivid text and imagery seemed to bring him back to that game.

Yang Pan’s passes were simply exquisite; when Zhang Jun made his run, he could see the ball soaring towards him in an almost aesthetic curve. He leaped, aimed and arched his head firmly. Then, he heard the beautiful sound of the ball brushing up against the net as he scored! He did not even stop to confirm if the ball had really gone in, running instead towards Yang Pan with arms open wide.

He always trusted Yang Pan and their tacit understanding when it came to soccer. Anytime he saw Yang Pan sprinting towards the ball, he would dash into the box―because Yang Pan would definitely send the ball to him. Then, he just needed to leap and nod the ball softly towards the goal.

Even if Shui Huajun managed to equalize and subsequently give Zhong Xin the lead, he did not feel flustered. As long as he was playing alongside Yang Pan, he knew that they were unstoppable; it had been that way ever since they were children; naturally and unsurprisingly, Yang Pan equalized the score quickly. The long shot was a clear reminder of the first time he fired one those shots during their first game in middle school; it scared everyone silly back then.

He also remembered Yang Pan’s reaction on that bygone day―at the sight of the goalpost’s poles being knocked over, there was no quieting him down for the rest of the day. To be fair, they were made of wood and had aged considerably. Nevertheless, it was still genuinely amusing to see it getting knocked down by a little student’s shot from over 20 m away! Yang Pan even asked their gym teacher afterwards, “Teach, does this count as a goal?”

The teacher looked at Yang Pan as though he was gazing upon an extraterrestrial life form. He was not even able to conjure up a sentence. Zhang Jun had always prided himself as the most skilled player among his classmates, but from that day onwards, he began to feel a sincere admiration towards another player. And with that, he became buddies with Yang Pan.

Yang Pan’s scoring also did a number on Zhong Xin’s morale―he was accomplished in such matters after all. In the National High School Soccer Championship this summer, Yang Pan shot once after nine seconds, but it was enough to put last year’s fourth-placed team out of commission for the rest of the game. A single high school student took a shot from 30 m away and knocked both the keeper as well as the ball into the goal! Not to mention, the goalie was immediately given a substitution.

In the next game, it was Yang Pan’s long shot that guided their victory once more; this time, over Kai Ta High. Therefore, in every game that followed, whenever he raised his feet, any defender who was marking him would subconsciously move aside. That was when he got the nickname: “Morale Killer.”

Just before Shu Guang got their win against Zhong Xin, Yang Pan’s shot rebounded from the woodwork. When the other team’s defense thought that they were out of the woods, Zhang Jun plunged forward like a ghost and appeared where the ball dropped, diving and sending the ball into an empty net. It looked easy, but without his natural instincts, Zhang Jun would not have appeared in that precise location at the precise time, making the precise move; there were numerous past examples where, in similar situations, players would miss empty goals.

It felt good to win, but he was not as ecstatic as his seniors. He did win a national title before after all, and even if it was on a middle school level, it still counted as having the experience. But Su Fei’s words yesterday moved him―Was football played for one’s self? Just to feel the delight of scoring? Just to feel the body letting loose as the player dashed around the pitch? If not, what else was there?

Zhang Jun found an answer in Su Fei’s excited face yesterday. Although he did not understand English, he finally understood the lyrics of “Do You Mind If I Play?”―the elegant theme song of the French World Cup .

Would you cheer for me if I win? Would you cry for me if I lose? Would you mind if I play?

I can be more, but would it matter if there’s no one to share with? What meaning was there in a one-man victory? No cheers when I score, no comfort when I lose; who am I even running so hard for?

Zhang Jun played the song with his hi-fi system and closed his eyes to soak in the world within the music. In that dimension, he ran to his heart’s content across green pastures, and his ears were filled with the chants of hundreds of thousands of people. Everyone was shouting his name―those voices seeped into his blood, heating it up and warming his body; what a wonderful sensation it was! He met those cries with open arms to embrace it all.

…

Su Fei decided to visit Zhang Jun and borrow a few books on football. But when she rang his doorbell, neither his parents nor Zhang Jun himself greeted her by the door―it was the reporter instead.

“Is that Su Fei?” Zhang Weiguo asked.

“It’s me, uncle.”

Chen Huafeng was also taken aback. How did he bump into two acquaintances in one afternoon?

“He’s at his room, go look for him.”

“Oh, thanks uncle.”

Su Fei made a beeline for Zhang Jun’s room while Huafeng pointed at her. “Isn’t she the manager of the Shu Guang High School soccer team?”

“Hehe! That’s right!” Zhang Wei Guo chortled. “Her family just moved here a month ago, next to us. Su Fei often comes by, looking for Zhang Jun. And she’s such a good girl! Thoughtful, well-behaved and excellent in her studies. She’ll be a good teacher for my clueless Zhang Jun.”

Chen Huafeng looked pensively at Zhang Jun’s door.

…

Once Su Fei entered, she was startled again as she found Zhang Jun standing in the middle of his room. It was filled with music and he stood with his arms spread wide open. But instead of disturbing him, she closed the door softly and found a spot to sit.

The length of the track felt so short and Zhang Jun was left unsatisfied as he opened his eyes. He jumped at the sight of Su Fei, who held her chin as she watched him. “Eh! Su Fei? When did you come inside?”

She smiled. “When you were dreaming.”

“Dreaming?”

“That’s right! Your expression just now was so rich, you had to be dreaming. It was hilarious!” Her laughter was heavenly.

Zhang Jun thought about what he had been feeling. “Yup! It was a beautiful dream!”

…

Li Yongle was on his bed, flipping through the copy of High School Soccer he swiped off Zhang Yang. He had already gone through every article written about Shu Guang, Zhang Jun and Yang Pan. However, his thoughts were not on the article.

The story went that Zhang Jun and Yang Pan had already shown their brilliance during their middle school years. In the summer of their third-year , they led Kai Ta Middle School to their first national title.

Li Yongle recalled his own days in middle school. Under the influence of youth and his rebellious tendencies, he started playing truant, getting into fights and spending long hours at arcade. He looked at the attention his teachers and parents gave him as restraints. He met Zhang Yang later on, and with their similar thinking as well as personalities, they became best friends almost immediately. They were the typical teenage troublemakers and representatives of their school’s failing students. This lifestyle of theirs stretched on late into their third middle school year.