Chapter 102: Fan Pengfei's Resentment

After Chishang Bing shook hands with Ding Yu, he stepped onto the field and spoke quietly with his players. Ding Yu watched his retreating figure, finally allowing the tension that had gripped him throughout the match to ease.

Though he appeared outwardly calm, Ding Yu had been on edge the entire game. The players didn’t want to lose, and he was even more determined not to fail. Chishang Bing’s career was on the decline—otherwise, he wouldn’t have stepped back to a secondary role. In contrast, Ding Yu was still on the rise. Failing to defeat Chishang Bing now would leave an indelible blemish on his coaching record and deal a severe blow to his confidence.

Every attack by Dalian East made his heart pound, and by the end of the match, though his expression was unchanged, sweat had soaked through his shirt.

Thankfully, the game was over. Thankfully, they won.

“You brat,” Ding Yu grabbed Zhou Wei by the collar just as he was about to rush onto the field. “If you pull a stunt like that in future games, don’t blame me for being harsh!”

“Don’t be angry, Coach,” the short-statured Zhou Wei flailed his limbs as Ding Yu held him aloft, still talking back cheerfully. “I’m sorry, I really am. I promise I won’t do it again… Besides, I helped too. If I hadn’t gotten the girls to sing together, we might not have lasted to the end of the game. Just think of me as a fart—let me go…”

Ding Yu set him down and gave him a light kick beneath the knee. “Go on, you’re lucky this time… But you won’t get a chance to play in the finals. If you pull this again next year, I’ll cut you out completely—after all, I do have that authority as head coach.”

Zhou Wei shrank back but didn’t dash onto the pitch to celebrate; instead, he stood quietly beside Ding Yu.

“Why aren’t you going to celebrate?” Ding Yu asked, puzzled.

“I’d better stay put,” Zhou Wei shivered. “If those guys catch me, they’ll come after me… There are too many people on the field; nowhere to run… A gentleman doesn’t stand beneath a crumbling wall.”

Ding Yu laughed out loud—so he considered himself a gentleman? At least he was sensible.

On the field, as soon as the match ended, the girls from Yun Jia Tianyu swarmed in. Clusters of three or five gathered around the players, handing out water and towels. It was thanks to these fluttering, lively girls that the exhausted Yun Jia Tianyu players didn’t collapse onto the ground but mustered their strength to stand tall, showing off what little manly pride they had left.

Because of this, Ding Yu refrained from entering the field to make them stand. Everyone knew that after intense physical exertion, sitting down suddenly might feel good but could harm the body; the more exhausted one is, the more one should stand to recover gradually before sitting down, especially for young athletes. Proper recovery after depletion can even raise one’s physical limits.

Long Bisheng, who scored the only goal, became the center of attention. The number of girls offering him water and towels was several times more than for others. Overwhelmed, Long Bisheng didn’t know whose offering to accept first.

Someone tapped him on the back, and turning around, Long Bisheng saw Ning Xi’s smiling face and heard her cheerful question, “Star Long, how does it feel to score the crucial goal in such an important match?” She mimed holding a microphone up to his mouth.

Embarrassed, Long Bisheng scratched his head. He was now used to speaking closely with Ning Xi—they weren’t complicated at their young age, just innocent childhood friends. “Don’t make fun of me… That goal… it was just luck, pure luck.”

The girls nearby burst into laughter, with two shouting loudly, “You’re so embarrassing! Long says his goal was just luck! Well, luck’s better than you all! You’re so weak!”

Other players jeered dismissively, but everyone knew it was only a joke—a unique way to celebrate victory. They had every reason to be lighthearted, having worked hard throughout the game.

Dalian East’s players had also given their all, but that’s football: only a win rewards one’s effort. Hard work doesn’t always guarantee success; otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many “kings without crowns” in the world.

Chen Yongjun sat on the ground, ignored by his teammates. Though eliminated by Yun Jia Tianyu, he respected their core players—except Long Bisheng, who had scored the golden goal that knocked out Dalian East, Chen’s current team. Chen had mocked Long Bisheng’s clumsy technique more than once before!

Yet here was a player who, in just three months, could turn his back to the goal, receive the ball, break through, and shoot in an official match. What right did Chen Yongjun have to ridicule him now?

He began to reevaluate himself. Thinking carefully, he realized he had no real grudge against Long Bisheng—the earlier conflict was his own doing, and he had provoked Long repeatedly, but Long never retaliated. Now that he was in Dalian, no longer with Yun Jia, would it make sense to hold a grudge?

Youth carries no failure—this means that young people who honestly examine their mistakes after defeat still have time to improve. But those who refuse to face their faults are doomed to fail.

“Maybe I should apologize,” Chen Yongjun thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. “Damn it, they’re the winners now. Why should I apologize? Forget it—maybe next time…”

He shook his head, rose unsteadily, and walked off the field. He needed to work harder; otherwise, he might never get another chance to face them on the pitch—and then his apology would never be spoken.

Chen Yongjun had resolved one inner knot, but Fan Pengfei had not. Though he played reasonably well, managing to occupy Yun Jia Tianyu’s captain Hu Gandang’s attention, this small victory was far from enough to overshadow his inner frustration.

Why was this? Since age five, he had undergone formal training. His talent impressed the seasoned coaches of the Bayi team. Now at Dalian East—a youth academy nearly as good as Yun Jia Tianyu’s—he played alongside equally gifted children. His talent and ability shone like a beacon in the night. He had always believed he was born to be the star on the field, destined to be the brightest.

For players born in ’89, this invitational tournament was the only chance to showcase their skills, especially after reaching the semifinals facing a powerhouse like Yun Jia Tianyu versus Dalian East. But why was the brightest star on the field Long Bisheng?

Besides scoring the goal, Long Bisheng’s relentless runs up front effectively tied down Dalian East’s defense. Fan Pengfei could not do this—his stamina was average. Though not easily winded, he had to conserve energy to last the full match.

Long Bisheng’s headers helped Yun Jia Tianyu’s quick counterattacks find their first target. Fan Pengfei couldn’t do that—he was only dangerous with the ball at his feet.

Long often dropped back to help defend. In the crowded penalty area, his slower turns were offset by his excellent timing, jumping, and heading skills. Fan Pengfei couldn’t match this—he was weak in physical confrontations. He could contribute on offense but only hindered his teammates when retreating to defend.

“I’ve played football for eight years, received eight years of formal training—so why do I have less impact than Long Bisheng, who’s only had three years of training and relies on his physique? Does this mean my hard-earned skills can’t compare to natural physicality?”

“If football were won by physique alone, what hope would players like me, with average physical strength, have?”

Fan Pengfei’s thoughts were bitterly one-sided. He ignored Long Bisheng’s solid fundamentals, his tireless effort and determination on the pitch. He didn’t know the hardships Long had endured over the past three years. Long’s outstanding performance today was not only due to his natural robust physique but also the grueling daily struggles he had endured.

He was unaware that Long Bisheng devoted every waking moment—except essential sleep and basic needs—to football. That was how he managed to accomplish in three years what others took eight years to achieve.

When Long Bisheng came over to greet him, Fan Pengfei responded briefly and coolly before leaving the field with his teammates.