Chapter 15 – No, Don’t Stop…
Nightfall didn’t bring silence to the city. Neon lights painted the darkness, making it even more dazzling.
Office workers and students, exhausted from their daily grind, finally embraced the time of day that belonged solely to them.
With barely contained excitement, they stepped into that familiar yet chaotic world.
Flickering lights cast shifting shadows on a young man’s face, coating his otherwise expressionless features with an almost surreal glow. Yet, the person wrapped in those colors rarely noticed them at all.
On the way back to the base, Shao Zhan found himself replaying Du Changcheng’s final question.
He recognized Yang Sa. And if he did, then meticulous Qin Chuan had definitely recognized him too—the same dazzling figure on stage was the boy who had once fled from their base in the dead of night.
But even now, there were things Shao Zhan still hadn’t figured out.
Why had Yang Sa come to Xinghai back then?
Why had he gone to such lengths to get close to him?
And why had he disappeared so suddenly, as if vanishing into thin air without a trace?
And now, why had he returned?
Was it to finish what had been left undone three years ago? Or was it for something else entirely?
That boy—who had been gone for so many years, who now stood on the stage, sharp and untamed—did he still remember their first meeting ten years ago?
He knew nothing at all.
Shao Zhan suddenly realized—he knew far too little about this boy.
Just like Coach Du’s question, the initiative wasn’t in Xinghai’s hands. Countless teams had extended their invitations to him; the real question was whether he would accept.
And that choice belonged to Yang Sa. Whether in the past or now, this boy with a mysterious background and even more elusive whereabouts had always kept control firmly in his own hands.
…
When Shao Zhan returned to the base, he happened to run into Lao Zhou, who was out walking his pet—a parrot disguised as a rooster.
Maybe it was too excited to see him, but the parrot let out two sharp squawks.
Those two cries completely exposed Shao Zhan’s return, and the enthusiasm for training on both floors instantly intensified.
By the time he stepped into the training room, Shao Zhan nearly burst out laughing.
Jiang Ranran and Zhuang Bai had wrapped fluorescent sports headbands—who knew where they got them—around their heads. Boldly written across the bands in heavy strokes was the word Strive.
Tangyuan was even more dramatic. His chubby face was covered in dozens of crudely drawn turtles. According to Qin Chuan, this was part of Tangyuan’s new oath—every time he lost a game, he would draw another turtle on his face. He refused to believe he would always be the one left lying down.
As for Qin Chuan… he was in the worst shape of them all. Once a stylish young master, he had been forcefully transformed into a frazzled caretaker.
Holding a bowl of soup in one hand and a box meal in the other, he hovered under their chins, only to be ignored, shoved away, and met with endless eye-rolls and misunderstanding.
Shao Zhan, on the other hand, took things in stride. If they weren’t eating, it simply meant they weren’t hungry.
He took the meal from Qin Chuan’s hands, just about to dig in, when his attention was drawn to their training performance.
Suddenly, his food lost all its appeal. Without hesitation, he reached out and shut off the power.
The entire third floor plunged into darkness.
When the lights flickered back on, Tangyuan—who had just been clutching a grenade, ready to take his enemy down with him—stared murderously at the disruptor, prepared to exact vengeance.
But then he saw the culprit—Shao Zhan, stone-faced as ever.
The flames of revenge instantly sputtered out, fading into a mere wisp of smoke.
And as Shao Zhan’s footsteps approached, even that wisp of smoke was blown away, vanishing without a trace.
…
“Alright, quit looking so miserable,” Shao Zhan said, casually pinching Tangyuan’s chubby cheek. “Not bad—feels pretty good, actually.”
“Captain, don’t make fun of me,” Tangyuan pouted, cradling his own round face. “I suck, don’t I?” He immediately raised a pudgy hand, making a stop gesture. “No, no need to say it—I already know how bad I am.”
“I’m even worse.” Jiang Ranran solemnly joined in the self-reflection brigade.
“You’re not, you don’t, you shouldn’t get involved.” Tangyuan rejected him with three consecutive negatives. “You’re still young, your future is bright. As for reflecting on past mistakes,” he pointed at Zhuang Bai and himself, “leave that to us old-timers.”
Zhuang Bai nodded, his expression solemn.
“Alright, enough arguing. We’re done for today,” Shao Zhan unilaterally announced. “Tonight’s training is canceled. We’re going out for dinner.”
“Yay!”
Even though the overall team morale was low, Qin Chuan was as happy as a little quail.
Shao Zhan was infected by the cheerful atmosphere and went with the flow. “Then, Manager Qin is treating.”
Qin Chuan stood frozen like a stick, his eyebrows drooping. “Mars, tell me you wouldn’t do this to me.”
At Shao Zhan’s command, the other team members got up and left. He gave some last instructions to the lagging Qin Chuan. “Remember to send the uneaten boxed meals down to the youth training team. Just say it’s an extra meal.” Then, he casually picked up Qin Chuan’s wallet from the table. “You’ve got five minutes. If you don’t make it in time, no late-night snack for you.”
“Wait, you’re serious? Why are we even going out for dinner in the first place? Hey, wait for me—wait—!”
…
The sight of greasy, sizzling barbecue slightly eased the tension on the team members’ faces.
Qin Chuan clutched his wallet joyfully—all his bills were still there. Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bo had already taken off their headbands, which had been brimming with fighting spirit, leaving only two deep red marks on their foreheads. Meanwhile, Tangyuan sat there looking like a steamed turtle, his face glistening under the heat of the charcoal grill, appearing even more flavorful.
“Alright, dig in. Do you need me to feed you?” Shao Zhan gestured toward the plum-cut pork sizzling over the coals.
With years of training, Tangyuan’s chopsticks shot toward the juicy, fatty meat the instant the captain gave the order. The moment the delicious meat entered his mouth, he nearly teared up. “I—I’m so ashamed. I don’t want to eat at all, and yet… my hands just won’t stop!”
As the meat on the grill rapidly disappeared, Jiang Ranan and Qin Chuan joined the feast, wolfing down their share.
Zhuang Bai, however, wasn’t in a hurry to eat. He calmly placed more meat on the grill.
Tangyuan continued eating while battling an overwhelming sense of guilt. But each time he hesitated, each time he tried to resist, an even stronger, fiercer appetite crushed his resolve. Clutching Shao Zhan’s arm, tears streamed down his face in clusters. “C-C-Captain… I, Lao Tangyuan, truly… chomp chomp… feel so guilty… chomp chomp, chomp chomp… No, Captain, don’t dodge me! I have something to say to you… chomp chomp, chomp chomp chomp…”
“Swallow what’s in your mouth.” Shao Zhan pushed his hand away and disdainfully brushed off the sleeve he had tugged at. “You haven’t even had any alcohol, and you’re already slurring your words.”
Tears streamed down Tangyuan’s chubby face, leaving two flesh-colored streaks. Qin Chuan, unable to watch any longer, covered them with two tissue papers.
Tangyuan wiped his nose while saying, “Th… thank you… True friendship… True friendship is shown in times of hardship…”
“Alright, stop fooling around.” Shao Zhan gave each of the little heads a knock. “Got some skills now, huh? When the game doesn’t go well, you start drawing turtle patterns on your face, and now I have to comfort you as captain?”
“Captain, I didn’t, I wasn’t…” Tangyuan covered his round head, his voice gradually fading. His face, with clear evidence of the turtle design, left him no room to argue.
“Didn’t you? I think you did, and it was quite skillful.”
As soon as Shao Zhan finished speaking, Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bo lowered their heads in shame. Qin Chuan, still eagerly gnawing on a chicken neck, belatedly realized what was going on. He followed suit and lowered his head, secretly sucking on the chicken bone marrow.
“I’m not scolding you. Raise your heads.” Shao Zhan propped his temple with one hand, using serving chopsticks to distribute the grilled meat to the team members. “As captain, I hold direct responsibility for the state of the team.”
“Captain, don’t stop…” Tangyuan tried to console Shao Zhan not to blame himself, but what came out instead was, “Stop… the chopsticks… the meat’s almost burnt!”