Chapter Fifty-Four: How Wonderful

Night fell, with wind and stars, and a stingy crescent moon casting its pale light. Long Bisheng could not see Ding Yu’s expression clearly, but he sensed that Ding Yu had no grounds to refute what he had just said.

So be it.

Long Bisheng, in despair, thought to himself that he truly was not suited for football. Perhaps he could help others grow faster, but what about his own future? It wasn’t so easy to decide which mattered more: the pressure of life or the dignity of existence.

“Coach, I’m leaving now. About what I said earlier… I’m sorry.” Long Bisheng said quietly to Ding Yu, and turned to go.

Suddenly, Ding Yu seemed to have figured something out. With a rush, he stood up and grabbed Long Bisheng. “You can’t go—I’ve just realized it. You definitely have a future!”

“Coach, don’t try to comfort me. I know exactly what I’m made of.” Long Bisheng forced a bitter smile. “I’ve heard enough comforting words—I don’t want to hear them anymore.”

“It’s not comfort.” Ding Yu shook his head with a gentle smile, still holding onto Long Bisheng.

Long Bisheng had no choice but to stop. In truth, Long Bisheng’s strength was now enough that Ding Yu, who was barely over 1.7 meters tall, could not hold him back if he tried. Long Bisheng wasn’t much shorter himself.

But Long Bisheng cared about his shirt—Ding Yu was gripping him tightly, and if Long Bisheng pulled away, the shirt might tear in two. He didn’t mind returning to the dorm bare-chested, but this was his best T-shirt, which had cost him dozens of yuan.

Seeing Long Bisheng stop, Ding Yu let go, thinking it improper to hold a student’s clothes like that. He smiled and said, “You think you’re not cut out for football, think your hard work only pulls you further behind your classmates because your talent is poor, and even if you force yourself to keep playing, it’s just a waste of time. You’d be better off quitting and doing something else—is that right?”

Long Bisheng shot him a look—wasn’t that obvious?

“I fell into a misunderstanding, and so did you.” Ding Yu chuckled. “Come, sit down—are you afraid I’ll harm you? Even if you don’t want to play football, you’re still a student of our football school, and I’m your coach. When did you start ignoring your coach? How will you ever be a good soldier? A soldier’s duty is to obey orders—think of this as a rehearsal.”

Ding Yu pulled Long Bisheng down to sit, lit a cigarette, and gazed silently at the sky.

Long Bisheng was truly angry. “Coach, you can’t keep fooling me like this! If you do, I’ll really get mad!”

“Calm down—I thought you were usually gentle and composed, why are you so quick-tempered tonight?” Ding Yu pressed his hands downward, speaking indistinctly with the cigarette between his lips. “I’ve only just sorted out my thoughts; you have to give me a moment to organize my words.”

Long Bisheng said nothing, cradling his head and lying back, eyes fixed on the moon, lost in thought.

“How long have you been playing football formally? Include last year at that school in Xi’an,” Ding Yu finally asked after a long while.

Long Bisheng sat up, thought for a moment, and replied, “Nearly two years, I suppose.”

“Two years.” Ding Yu nodded. “You should know, those classmates of yours—all your age—have played at least three or four years. Hu Gantang and Dai Guangming have played over five years, starting at age five. But you started at nine. I’ve estimated it: your current ability, compared to other forwards in the class, is roughly equivalent to their level at eight or nine years old.”

“So what?” Long Bisheng asked, puzzled.

“Subtract five from nine, how many years? Subtract five from eight, how many years?” Ding Yu suddenly posed an unrelated question.

Long Bisheng was even more confused, but he could manage this first-grade math. He quickly calculated, “Four years and three years… But coach, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s about to be relevant.” Ding Yu said triumphantly. “Look, you’ve trained only two years but achieved what others attained in three or four years—does that mean you have low talent? Even though you work harder than others, it’s impossible for two years of effort to equal four years, right? Besides, I don’t mean to disparage that football school in Xi’an, but in my opinion, the so-called training you received there was rubbish.”

Long Bisheng was successfully convinced by Ding Yu’s argument. Ding Yu’s facts were persuasive, but in truth, there were important differences: whether at age five or ten, there are huge disparities in physical and learning capacity, so rapid progress is natural. Before joining Yunjia Tianyu Football School, Long Bisheng hadn’t been idle—he had a foundation, so he picked things up quickly. Taking all this into account, his aptitude was just average. He’d have no trouble making it in other clubs, but in Yunjia Tianyu, a club of national elites, even if he stayed, his status would not be high.

Long Bisheng froze, then asked doubtfully, “Is that really true?”

“I wouldn’t fool you! If I wanted to, I would have done it long ago.” Ding Yu waved his hand, speaking with finality. “If you don’t believe me, ask the other forwards in your class. Let them estimate what age level your current ability matches—you’ll see.”

Long Bisheng thought for a moment and nodded. Ding Yu had a point—if he wanted to deceive Long Bisheng, he wouldn’t need to go to such lengths.

But Long Bisheng still felt uneasy: “Why is it, then, that even though I train longer than others, I still can’t close the gap? If two years lets me reach what others get in four, why am I still so far behind?”

Ding Yu answered confidently, “Because others started much earlier. Let me give you an example. From age five to ten, you can only walk; after ten, you start to run. So others have already begun to run, but you’re still walking. Understand? If not, think of it this way: two kilometers—the first kilometer you can only walk, the second you can ride a bike. Your classmates have finished the first kilometer and are now biking; you’re just starting to run. So even if you try hard, running can hardly beat a bike. When you finish that kilometer, your hard work will finally show its advantage… Does that make sense?”

It took Long Bisheng a while to grasp Ding Yu’s words—his slower progress wasn’t due to stupidity, but to a weaker foundation. That matched what Li Fang had said: once his basics caught up to others, he would advance quickly in other areas.

“I really don’t lack talent?” Long Bisheng asked excitedly. “I’m not slow because I’m stupid?”

Ding Yu laughed heartily. “Now you understand? Slow progress isn’t because you lack talent or effort—it’s because you started too late. That’s not your fault, and you’re barely over ten years old. You have plenty of time to make up the gap. As long as you keep working as hard as you have this past year, I can’t promise anything else, but at least you won’t be eliminated from this school!”

“Really?” Long Bisheng was now truly happy.

“Absolutely!” Ding Yu grew serious. “But don’t forget what I said: you must keep working as hard as you have. Otherwise, with your lower foundation, you’re still most likely to be eliminated!”

“I understand, I’ll keep working hard!” Long Bisheng nodded repeatedly. “Because I know I have nothing else to rely on but effort! Thank you, coach!”

“Go back and rest! You still have to run in the morning!” Ding Yu glanced at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock—if you don’t go now, tomorrow’s training will suffer!”

“Alright, I’ll go sleep right away!” Long Bisheng bounded off towards the dorm, then stopped after a few steps and turned back, asking sheepishly, “Coach, I wasn’t very polite just now, please don’t take it to heart!”

“Get out!” Ding Yu grabbed a stone and pretended to throw it. Long Bisheng shrank his neck and dashed off.

Ding Yu chuckled, stood up, and muttered, “Ah, I should sleep as well… These kids, they really don’t let me rest easy.”

Long Bisheng gently pushed open the dorm door. Inside, it was pitch dark. He said nothing, quietly washed up, and lay down on his bed.

“Long, are you alright?” Dai Guangming’s soft voice came from the upper bunk. Long Bisheng smiled. “I’m fine. I’ve figured it out. As long as the school still wants me, I’ll stay and play football until I become a professional—won’t you all accept me?”

“What are you saying!” Wu Bufan and the others shouted in unison. Li Jie laughed, “That’s good, now we’re relieved!” Zhang Yi chimed in, “Our 505 dorm wouldn’t be the same without any one of us!” For a while, everyone shouted at once, and no one could hear anyone else.

“Quiet!” Hu Gantang yelled from the upper bunk. “We have training tomorrow—have some consideration!”

Long Bisheng smiled in the darkness. Truly, it was wonderful not to leave this group.

ps: Haha… Is it really fate? The title of this chapter is exactly what I want to say to you: it’s wonderful to have your support.

Thank you all—I will keep working hard. Perhaps I should return to the calm mindset I had when writing “King of Chinese Football”—a calm heart.