Chapter Two: Playing Ball Alone

The center forward, burdened with his father’s high expectations, had not yet brought certain victory to the Chinese team. Nevertheless, in the military compound, day by day, Long Bisheng grew steadily.

Life in Xinjiang was rather austere, but for Long Bisheng, raised within the farm reclamation corps’ military compound, it was not so hard to bear. Here, life lacked the novelty and modern entertainments available to children in the big cities. Yet, compared with urban living, the vast and boundless grasslands offered him a different kind of joy, one richer and more abundant.

Perhaps it was due to inheriting his father’s robust genes, but young Long Bisheng grew quickly. Had he been born in a metropolis, his birth might have made the papers, just like Yao Ming’s once had. Still, compared to Yao Ming, there was a gap—Yao Ming stood over 1.2 meters tall by the age of four and required a full-price ticket on public transport. Long Bisheng, at four, was not quite so tall, and each time his mother took him to ride the bus in Urumqi, there would inevitably be a small argument with the ticket seller about whether he needed a full ticket.

Long Bisheng had a hearty appetite. As Long Yuyun often remarked, “If I weren’t in the army with military rations feeding you, you would have eaten me into poverty by now!” At this, Yin Xiuping would always add, “We’re lucky to have the army!”

Among the children in the compound, Long Bisheng was the tallest, but he never became their leader. Unlike his father’s stern and hard-edged temperament, Long Bisheng had inherited his mother’s gentle nature. He rarely quarreled with anyone, and with his imposing size, the others dared not bully him either.

After the 1990s, the nationwide soccer craze began to influence even this remote military compound. The yard was vast, as was everything in sparsely populated Xinjiang. Any passerby would often see a gang of boys, ages five to fifteen, tearing across the compound, chasing after a small soccer ball.

There was no shortage of children, all well-fed and brimming with energy, channeling their liveliness into sports—football, basketball, and more. They delighted in the physical intensity of such games. As was customary, most of them would eventually join the army when they came of age, and these sports served as early training grounds for their bodies.

But there were simply too many children; not everyone could play at once, so some always stood at the sidelines. Long Bisheng was often among those watching.

Despite his height, it was of little use in these makeshift matches, where two bricks served as a goalpost, and headers were unheard of. In the tight spaces, his size became a disadvantage, and his reactions seemed sluggish compared to his nimble peers. On the field, he often resembled a headless chicken, running aimlessly about.

After several tries, no one wanted him on their team. While the others played with excitement, he could only watch from the sidelines, occasionally kicking a ball around on his own, bored and listless.

But how does one play soccer alone? It was nothing more than kicking the ball back and forth, dribbling it around—a tedious activity that few enthusiasts enjoyed for long. Even running all game without touching the ball was preferable to solitary practice, for soccer was meant to be fun, and playing alone stripped it of its joy.

Yet Long Bisheng never grew weary. If he couldn’t play in the match, at least he could kick a ball on the side, and watching his friends play was entertaining enough.

Among his peers, the best player was Fan Pengfei, only son of the company instructor Fan Yuhan, who served alongside Long Yuyun. Although not as tall as Long Bisheng, Fan Pengfei’s skills were far superior. He could dribble his way past an entire defense and score with ease, holding his own even against boys several years older.

One time, a coach from the Bayi Sports Team visited the Xinjiang Farm Corps on business and passed through their compound. He happened upon a group of boys playing and, intrigued, stopped to watch, chuckling as he remarked to Long Yuyun, who stood beside him, “The football atmosphere here is great—so many children playing.”

“Of course, I set the example,” Long Yuyun replied with a grin, though his smile soon faded—he had just spotted his own son standing idly at the side, absentmindedly kicking a ball.

Long Yuyun had hoped his boy would play football, but he had watched Long Bisheng try the small-sided games—his reactions and skills were dismal. As much as he believed in his son, he understood all too well why the other children avoided having Long Bisheng on their team.

“That little one is quite good, isn’t he? He can’t be more than five, while the others are at least seven or eight, and yet he stands out so clearly. Remarkable,” the coach suddenly sighed.

Long Yuyun didn’t need to look; he knew the coach was praising Fan Pengfei. Seeing the boy running across the pitch, beaming with pride, then glancing at his own son, who stood grinning foolishly at the sidelines, Long Yuyun felt a wave of frustration.

“That one is your son, isn’t it? You’re well-known for your love of football—surely your boy plays as well?” the coach turned to ask.

“Oh, Liu, that’s not my son. That’s Fan Yuhan’s boy, Fan Pengfei—he’s famous here,” Long Yuyun replied, swallowing his discomfort. He wouldn’t lie, and besides, he was on good terms with the instructor and hoped the coach would take an interest in his friend’s son.

“Oh, Fan’s son. And which one is yours?” Coach Liu asked with interest.

“There—the one standing over there,” Long Yuyun answered, gesturing at Long Bisheng, feeling even more dejected.

“Your boy is quite a big one—that he gets from you.” Noticing Long Bisheng towering above the others, Coach Liu laughed. “How’s his game? Why isn’t he playing?”

“He’s… average,” Long Yuyun replied with a forced chuckle.

“Let’s see him juggle a ball, shall we?” Coach Liu suggested, intrigued.

At that, Long Yuyun’s heart leapt into his throat.