Chapter 132: Stay Calm

"Great shot!" Fan Yuhan leapt up with an agility that belied his age and weight, arms spread wide in an exaggerated gesture of celebration. He then cast a smug look at Long Yuyun. The other officers nearby felt indifferent toward the wager between the two, but the People's Liberation Army (PLA) team had always been a source of pride for them as military fans. Regardless of the fact that the team now carried the prefix "Nanchang," they were reluctant to see such a side relegated.

Long Yuyun sat with a stony face, silent. His own emotions were complex; on one hand, he hoped the team his son played for would win, but on the other, he could not bear to see the pride of the military—the PLA team—sinking into the second division or facing dissolution. While reason told him that professional Chinese football offered little room for teams with such institutional backing, reason was one thing, and sentiment was another.

On the television screen, Fan Pengfei, who had scored the opening goal, let out a roar once he confirmed the ball had crossed the line. He sprinted along the track with his arms outstretched, and as he reached a point just a few meters from the stands, he cupped his hands to his ears, mocking the crowd by feigning to listen to their cheers.

The Qingdao fans in the stands were incensed, and plastic water bottles began to rain down upon the pitch. Fan Pengfei ignored them; he had been calculated enough to perform the provocative gesture from a safe distance before turning to embrace his teammates.

"Damn it! I'm going to take him out, I have to take him out!" Li Erlong roared, veins popping. Beside him, Huang Zhenghong offered a reminder: "Old Li, don't forget you're already on a yellow card... We can't afford to lose this match."

Li Erlong knew his young defensive midfield partner was right. He had no choice but to suppress his fury. Long Bisheng watched Fan Pengfei’s wild celebration in silence, sighing to himself.

His peer had been arrogant since childhood, prone to offending others. A previous encounter had nearly led to a conflict with Hu Gandang, and now he had provoked Li Erlong’s ire. Since they were playing for different sides now, he had to work even harder to ensure he wasn't overshadowed by Fan Pengfei’s performance.

On the sidelines, Cai Sheng was livid. He had never expected his trusted defense to concede first. The former national team player shouted at the pitch, "Attack! Get on the attack! Take these guys down!"

Stung by Fan Pengfei’s arrogant celebration, the Qingdao Haifeng players surged forward under Cai Sheng’s command. The Nanchang PLA team, their morale bolstered by the goal, met them head-on. The two sides traded blows in a frantic, chaotic exchange. However, driven by their agitated state of mind, both teams’ attacks lacked composure; they looked lively, but yielded little result.

Long Bisheng noticed something was amiss. His teammates were playing with desperation, either launching hasty long balls into the box to find him—making it impossible to judge the ball's trajectory while battling defenders—or choosing to shoot themselves after a dribble, ignoring that Long Bisheng had already found a prime position. The timing was never right. It was a frustrating first half for him.

He ran incessantly in the attacking third, fighting for position, but to no avail. The ball rarely reached his feet. Because the tempo of both sides was so high, the slower-moving Long Bisheng found himself exhausted from sprinting back and forth. He even began to wonder if the opposing coach had identified his lack of speed and intentionally pushed the pace to minimize his impact.

Thinking this, the next time a teammate launched a long ball forward, Long Bisheng trapped it with his chest but didn't release it immediately. He held it under control, waiting until two defenders closed in before passing. Instead of playing it to the wings where Qi Zhi or Liu Ziyan were surging, he laid it back to the supporting Lu Baozi in the center.

"Don't rush the attack! Settle it down!" Long Bisheng shouted at his teammate. Baozi hesitated, his pace slowing, and he nearly lost the ball to a pressing PLA defender. It was only thanks to his refined footwork that he managed to keep possession.

Anyone else might have been annoyed, but Baozi was good-natured. After Long Bisheng’s shout, his mind cleared. Seeing the opponent’s defense had reorganized, he shifted the ball out to the wing to Qi Zhi.

Upon receiving the ball, Qi Zhi realized the defense was too crowded to penetrate. As a player not known for his dribbling, he passed it back to Huang Zhenghong in the middle.

By all accounts, this Qingdao Haifeng fast break had failed. But after passing the ball around a few times, Liu Ziyan found he had many options. Although the opponents were in position, so were his teammates. He could pass to Lu Baozi to initiate a breakthrough, set up Huang Zhenghong for a long-range effort, or cross into the box for Long Bisheng to challenge for the header—the familiar patterns of Qingdao Haifeng’s attack were finally functioning.

Ultimately, Liu Ziyan lofted the ball into the box. Long Bisheng headed it down, and Lu Baozi fired a shot just over the bar. Though they didn't score, the flow of the attack was clear and methodical.

Cai Sheng watched this from the sideline, looking thoughtful.

In the subsequent attacks, Qingdao Haifeng gradually found their rhythm. The defensive pressure on the Nanchang PLA team began to mount, but they held firm, clinging to their one-goal lead until the halftime whistle.

Once the first half ended, a now-calm Cai Sheng rose from the bench and was the first to head into the locker room.

"I won't say much about the first half," Cai Sheng said, looking at his players with a calm expression, showing no anger despite being down 1-0. "In short, you weren't calm, and neither was I. In the end, it was Long Bisheng who identified our problem in the attack. We don't have fast, highly skilled strikers, so we cannot play a quick counter-attacking game. We must adopt a measured approach. In the second half, move the ball quickly from the back, avoid mistakes, but in the final third, circulate the ball. Wait until our attackers are in position before pressing the attack. The Nanchang PLA defense is not strong; they wouldn't be second in the league for goals conceded otherwise. Trust in our attacking ability."

"Defensively, Fan Pengfei is Huang Zhenghong’s responsibility." Cai Sheng looked at the disgruntled-looking Li Erlong. "Old Li, it’s not that I don't trust your ability, but that kid is fast. Huang Zhenghong is better suited to mark him, and you’re already on a yellow card; you’ll be playing with restraint, won't you?"

Li Erlong was short-tempered but easily appeased. Cai Sheng’s words made him feel validated, and he laughed, clapping Huang Zhenghong hard on the back. "Little Huang, that kid is yours. Stick to him like glue; see how he likes it after being so arrogant." Huang Zhenghong pulled a wry face; his team captain’s way of showing affection was hard to take. "Little Huang"—it sounded like he was a palace eunuch.

"As for the rest of the attack, I won't say more. Nanchang PLA is talented, but they aren't playing to their full potential, and their defense is poor. This is our home turf; we cannot allow a team like that to take points here. More importantly, we must win. If we win this match, we have a chance to secure our survival directly. News just came in—Dalian Botao is down by two goals against Xiamen Lions. If we win, we’ll move out of the relegation zone. The opportunity is right in front of us. If we can't seize it, then we are the biggest fools in the world."

Listening to Cai Sheng, the Qingdao Haifeng players settled down. They knew his words held truth. Dalian Botao’s final-round opponent was Nanjing Wutai, a team with whom they had a friendly relationship. With Dalian playing at home and the opponent having nothing to play for, those three points were essentially guaranteed. If they didn't fight now, Qingdao Haifeng would lose their last chance to avoid a desperate final-day clash against Guangzhou Qingquan.

No one wanted to play in the relegation playoffs. After a long season, the cruelty of such matches was a torment for any player, especially since the Qingdao Haifeng players had already exhausted their potential in the final few rounds. They might not have the strength left to see the playoffs through. "The more critical the situation, the calmer we must be. Seize every opportunity with a cool head. We were too impatient in the first half. In the second half, we must not be hasty. Impatience means handing the opportunity to our opponents. You must stay calm, and I must stay calm. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" the players replied in unison.

"Prepare to head out." Cai Sheng checked his watch, seeing that the start of the second half was near. He waved his hand and said briefly, "Go."

As the players rose and began to file out of the locker room, Cai Sheng grabbed Long Bisheng, staring at him for a long moment before saying, "Remember what I said? Stay calm. Not just your mindset on the pitch, but your preparation when shooting in front of the goal. These days, simply being a tall striker in the box isn't enough to guarantee a starting spot. Remember: stay calm."