Chapter Ninety-Six: Severed Bonds of Homeland Affection

Within just two seconds of the match’s start, Yun Jia Tianyu was down to ten men.

Number eleven, left midfielder Zhou Wei, was shown a straight red card for insulting the referee.

No one had ever kept official records of such incidents, and this moment wasn’t destined to be enshrined in football history. Yet, as it caught the eyes of the reporters around Zhou Wei, years later, it might be recalled: in a U-13 match in China, a player named Zhou Wei was sent off merely two seconds after kickoff—a verifiable record for the fastest dismissal.

Zhou Wei hung his head low as he trudged back to the sidelines—no longer even qualified to sit on the bench. He had no choice but to sulk among the group of girls watching. Normally, he might have found humor in the situation, but not now. Every girl was smirking at him, and a few of the youngest even teased him by lightly scratching their soft cheeks with their index fingers, mocking him as “spineless.”

Chi Shangbing wore a stern face, but the corners of his eyes twinkled with amusement. Having played football for twenty years and coached professionally for thirty, he had never witnessed a player sent off just two seconds into the game. He was genuinely delighted—not so much by the prospect of victory but simply to witness such a spectacle firsthand.

Ding Yu’s mouth dropped open wide enough to fit an apple—a Red Fuji, no less. Coach Zhao beside him was equally astonished, though he recovered quicker and immediately glared fiercely at Ding Yu. “It’s your doing, this beauty trap of yours. Instead of shutting them down, it backfired. Our main player, caught off guard and not noticing the referee’s starting whistle, just set a world record for the fastest red card—two seconds flat!”

Ding Yu snapped back to reality. Without looking at Coach Zhao, he strode swiftly to the sideline and barked, “Zhong Tao! Push up the left flank! Let Long Bisheng hold the front alone! Everyone else, stick to the pre-match plan!”

Having shouted these orders, Ding Yu quickly retreated to the coach’s area, where the referee—still glaring fiercely after being insulted by a mere teenager—seemed eager to brand the coach with a red card as well.

“I know an idiom: ‘to weave a cocoon and trap oneself.’” Coach Zhao stared intently at Ding Yu. “And another: ‘to lift a rock only to drop it on one’s own foot.’”

“Sir, I salute you,” Ding Yu bowed mockingly. “Please spare me your sarcasm, all right? Yes, I admit I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done something so self-defeating. I promise I won’t play the hero anymore. Just let me focus on coaching. We haven’t lost yet. If I can’t lead the team properly, then defeat is certain.”

Coach Zhao fell silent.

***

Zhou Wei’s dismissal meant Yun Jia Tianyu faced the entire match with ten men against eleven. Anyone with a basic understanding of football would know what that implied—not just a simple subtraction of one player.

Losing a player meant the other ten on the field—well, nine outfield players, since the goalkeeper could not leave the line—had to exert more effort to cover the gap. This accelerated their energy depletion, and when their stamina finally ran out, what awaited was often a massacre. How long the team could hold out with one man down depended on their physical fitness and the duration of the numerical disadvantage.

Yun Jia Tianyu’s players were not lacking in stamina, but they had been burdened with a heavy weight right from the start.

Fortunately—relatively speaking—Zhou Wei had never been a crucial piece in the U-13 defensive setup. His defensive ability was as poor as his physical condition. Entrusting him with a flank meant the opponent could easily exploit it. Ding Yu had utilized Zhou Wei for his offensive prowess, using his attacking pressure to negate the need for defensive coverage on his side.

Therefore, his dismissal did not immediately disrupt Yun Jia Tianyu’s defense much, but only temporarily. Without Zhou Wei’s offensive pressure, the opposing right-back, Wang Hang, could advance freely, making Yun Jia Tianyu’s defense more difficult.

More critically, with Zhou Wei gone, Yun Jia Tianyu’s attack lost one wing. Although Zhong Tao, under Ding Yu’s command, shifted back to the left wing to assist in both offense and defense, he was fundamentally a forward. Even if competent, he could not match Zhou Wei’s effectiveness in that role.

Suddenly, a heavy weight settled upon every Yun Jia Tianyu player’s heart, Long Bisheng included.

Since the foul belonged to Zhou Wei, Yun Jia Tianyu had yet to kick off and thus surrendered possession, conceding a free kick near the center circle to their opponents. Yun Jia Tianyu’s players hurried back, including Long Bisheng.

Meanwhile, players from Dalian Oriental surged into their half. Fan Pengfei ran alongside Long Bisheng, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Ah Long, does Yun Jia Tianyu’s football school really only have players like this? Lucky I never joined you guys.”

Long Bisheng was taken aback—he hadn’t expected such words. Though a bit slow to react, he wasn’t stupid. After a moment, his mind caught up with Fan Pengfei’s meaning.

Before he could get angry, Hu Gandang, who had also heard Fan’s words, flared with rage. Low and fierce, he shouted at Fan Pengfei, “Kid! I’ll make you swallow those words later!”

Fan Pengfei sneered. Long Bisheng stepped forward, “Xiao Fei, what do you mean by that?”

“Do you know him?” Hu Gandang asked Long Bisheng, trying to contain his temper.

“He grew up in the same compound as I did. He used to play for the Bayi youth team,” Long Bisheng explained.

“Oh, so you know each other—then why say such dumb things? You think anyone can just join Yun Jia Tianyu? It’s not a place for just anyone,” Hu Gandang snapped, clearly unwilling to let Long Bisheng off lightly.

“Claiming to be the nation’s top youth academy, Yun Jia Tianyu isn’t all that,” Fan Pengfei arrogantly tossed out. “They’ve got plenty of players who aren’t focused and just talk big on the pitch.”

“Don’t blame me, Ah Long. I’m going to make sure your little friend learns that words have consequences,” Hu Gandang said grimly before running back to the field.

Long Bisheng shook his head. He couldn’t blame Hu Gandang; if he were in his place, he’d make anyone who said such things eat dirt, too. For Long Bisheng, Fan Pengfei’s childhood teasing didn’t matter much—he could forgive that in his heart. But insulting Yun Jia Tianyu’s reputation? That was unforgivable, even if it came from a kid.

Fan Pengfei was envious—envious of Long Bisheng, this slow, awkward boy who somehow made it into what was hailed as the nation’s premier youth academy. What was he by comparison? When Fan could juggle twenty balls, Long Bisheng couldn’t even dribble properly! Despite shining in the Bayi youth team, Fan was overlooked by Yun Jia Tianyu scouts. After Bayi dissolved, he struggled through grueling trials and training to join Dalian Oriental. Yet, Long Bisheng, just by sheer luck in Xinjiang, had landed at Yun Jia Tianyu.

This fueled Fan Pengfei’s resentment toward Yun Jia Tianyu’s scouts. “Are you all blind? You find a big, clumsy kid from Xinjiang, but overlook me, the best player of the Bayi ’89 age group?”

So, Fan Pengfei was determined to perform brilliantly in this match, to prove to Yun Jia Tianyu that passing on him was a mistake—maybe even to convince their owner, Pei Wei, to fire all the scouts for letting such a talent slip away.

But life was unpredictable. At that selection, all Bayi coaches had favored Fan Pengfei, while Long Bisheng was mercilessly cut. Eight years later, Bayi was dissolved. Fan Pengfei finally made it to Dalian’s youth team and became a key player for his age group. Meanwhile, Long Bisheng seemed to have stumbled into Yun Jia Tianyu’s elite academy, now also starting in today’s match.

Two boys raised in the same courtyard, separated for eight years, now confronted each other in a match few paid attention to.

The joy of reunion was short-lived, quickly overshadowed by their rivalry. Fan Pengfei’s words vented his anger but also fueled Long Bisheng’s fury, who had been thrilled to see Fan.

Those words severed the bond between them and refocused their minds solely on the match—just as Fan Pengfei wanted.

However, those words also brought trouble. Hu Gandang targeted Fan Pengfei. Though Ding Yu had assigned Hu Gandang to mark Fan Pengfei before kickoff, now Hu was defending with the intensity of a professional league player.

He clashed, shadowed closely, unleashing every sly and dirty trick learned from his best friend Li Jie—moves he had previously scorned. Though Dalian Oriental dominated offensively, Fan Pengfei faced a wall in one-on-one duels with Hu Gandang—a tall, thick barrier.

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