Chapter 46 – Sleep Well?
The man who received that silent warning merely scoffed and shook his head nonchalantly, quickening his pace to catch up with the person in front.
Hearing approaching footsteps, Yang Sa instinctively wanted to sidestep—but realized that doing so would make it all too obvious. So, he kept walking at a steady pace.
Suddenly, a slightly hesitant voice murmured beside his ear—
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Yang Sa’s throat tightened. He turned and forced a stiff smile at the man now half a step behind him.
“It was… not bad.”
“Not bad?” Shao Zhan gave a couple of dry laughs. “Well, not bad is good.”
Following behind like he had radar antennas on his head, Qin Chuan got full-body goosebumps from hearing that awkward exchange.
Aren’t you the captain? Always so fierce when barking orders—what, suddenly you’ve turned into a shy mute with social anxiety?
He was tempted to take out his phone and record this painfully awkward moment to use later in an argument, but after fumbling with it in his pocket for a while, he chickened out.
After several rounds of stiff small talk, Yang Sa had to summon every ounce of restraint just to maintain a polite facade. Thank goodness they were walking on a public street—if this were in-game, he’d have already picked up an S12K and blasted him on the spot.
Shao Zhan was just about to ask whether he preferred shao mai or guo tie, when suddenly Fat Tangyuan burst out of the shop like a monkey, gripping the door handle and shouting: “Hey! Captain, could you hurry up? You guys are slower than the old man who just had hemorrhoid surgery!”
Said old man, fighting through the ripping pain, reached out and twisted Fat Fat’s ear, dragging the loudmouth over and smacking his thick lips for good measure.
Yang Sa used the opportunity to quietly speed up and join the others, who had been admiring the street views. Shao Zhan, watching Qin Chuan catch up to him, muttered with a shrug, “Double training for Fat Fat tonight.”
Just freed from the coach’s iron grip, Fat Tangyuan let out a massive sneeze. Little Blue, ever attentive, handed him a tissue with eyes full of sympathy.
“I’m fine,” Fat Tangyuan said while blowing his nose. “This meal’s on you, remember? We agreed.”
Little Blue patted his chest, silently telling him to rest easy.
Fat Tangyuan’s blubbery body trembled with emotion as he wiped away tears: “Good brother dei, for life!”
Those touching tears quickly transformed into rivers of drool.
A bustling crowd of people packed the large round table on the second floor.
Fat Tangyuan, practiced at this, pulled his not-blood-but-better-than-blood brother Little Blue to a low-key corner—close enough to the coach to not seem evasive, but far enough not to draw attention.
Yang Sa had been pulled into the seat to Coach Du Changcheng’s left and was quietly chatting with him.
Jiang Ranan, meanwhile, gestured animatedly as he introduced the many varieties of Chinese breakfast to the curious foreign guests.
Even Zhuang Bai, who was supposed to be attending to the coach, was holding up the menu and adding details.
Seeing this, Shao Zhan subtly adjusted Qin Chuan’s position from behind, then slid effortlessly into the empty seat next to the coach, completely at ease.
Annoyed, Qin Chuan shuffled over to Fat Tangyuan. “Fatty, scooch over.”
But the other waved a chubby hand dismissively. “Get lost, no room.”
Qin Chuan’s eyes gleamed. “Captain said you’ve got extra training tonight.”
Fat Tangyuan jolted upright like a carp flipping out of water and scooted over on the bench, pulling Qin Chuan in with him. “Tell me everything.”
Having been fuming all morning, Qin Chuan finally got his wish and sat down. Sandwiched between two giant heads, he was basking in their flattery and kept stealing glances at the group a few seats away.
Yang Sa didn’t eat much. He preferred light flavors, and the dishes that made their way to his side were just right. He answered Coach Du Changcheng’s questions politely.
On the other side, Shao Zhan—stationed right at the food pass—used the serving chopsticks to skillfully portion out the dishes.
Tangyuan crunched loudly on a fried dumpling, poking around in the top steamer basket with his chopsticks. “Weird, where’s my veggie shao mai?”
Coach Du cleared his throat, annoyed by how rude his players were being. He held back his irritation because of the guest, but when he looked down again, he noticed a crab soup dumpling had mysteriously appeared on his plate.
“Uh,” he licked his chapped lips, “Coach just had surgery…”
“Seafood’s inflammatory, you can’t eat it,” Shao Zhan said, smoothly shifting the soup dumpling to the plate beside him. He also replaced the now-cold veggie shao mai in front of the coach, all in one fluid, practiced motion.
Du Changcheng, holding the cold shao mai between three fingers, sighed with a hint of wisdom. “Xiao Zhan… the coach’s life matters too, you know.”
“Pardon?” Shao Zhan was in the middle of placing a steaming shrimp dumpling next to the coach, casually swapping out the cold bamboo shoot ribs and molten custard bun onto the coach’s plate.
Squatting slightly on the edge of the chair like a martial artist, Coach Du glanced around at the children he’d helped raise, then closed his eyes in defeat. “All these brats… what a waste.”
“Coach, what illness do you have?” Yang Sa asked while sipping soup from a dumpling. The warm broth spread through him, making him feel cozy inside.
Coach Du, touched by the concern, slumped dramatically onto the table. “It’s nothing serious… I just couldn’t rest easy, had to come check on them…”
“You haven’t even been discharged yet?” Yang Sa put down his chopsticks, concerned, and patted him gently on the back. “Which hospital? I’ll come visit if I get time.”
“It’s really nothing, just a little issue,” Coach Du said with a warm smile. “First People’s Hospital.”
“Aren’t you usually at the Second Hospital?” Fat Tangyuan asked, chewing on a fresh durian pastry, leaving flaky crumbs all over the table.
“You don’t even know which hospital I’m in, and you never once thought of coming to see me.” Du Changcheng furrowed his brows, his whole expression contorted with frustration.
“I put all my effort into training,” Fat Tangyuan said, stuffing the remaining durian pastry onto Little Blue’s plate and licking the oil off his fingers. “Besides, weren’t you the one who told us not to come?”
“And you really didn’t come just because I said so?” Du Changcheng was so furious his beard nearly bristled. He pointed at the fat all over him. “I told you to lose weight too, didn’t see you listening to that!”
Fat Tangyuan, with his massive body, ducked behind the steamed bun baskets and, greasy hands and all, summoned his voice assistant. “Hey Siri, search: Can hemorrhoid surgery trigger menopause…”
A heavy silence fell over the table—an unnatural one. Only Fat Tangyuan, oblivious to the mood, continued searching enthusiastically: “Hey Siri, look up causes of early menopause…”
After breakfast, Du Changcheng was already scheming how to drag the LAP team back to the base. But before he could speak, Yang Sa offered, “Coach, want me to take you back to the hospital?”
Du Changcheng waved it off with an awkward chuckle. “I still want to drop by the base. Let’s head back together.”
Since he declined, Yang Sa didn’t insist, just lamented, “That’s a shame. I watched LAP’s challenge match—I was really hoping to see them face Xinghai live.”
“We already did,” Yang Sa said softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We lost.” He was referring to the Silver Emperor Cup finals.
“That’s not the same.” Du Changcheng’s eyes landed on the top of Yang Sa’s head, though it felt like he was looking through him—at a moment long gone. “Seeing you always reminds me of an old friend. There’s still a keyboard he used at the base.”
“What old friend?” Yang Sa blurted out, then realized he’d sounded too eager and quickly toned it down, helping Du Changcheng to his feet.
At that moment, Shao Zhan—who had been replying to messages on his phone—looked over. He leaned in next to Du Changcheng and said, “The Silver Emperor team boss wants to talk about the Mid-Autumn charity match.”
Du Changcheng gave a snort. “Skipping over the coach and the manager to go straight to the captain—these guys are getting bolder by the day.” Still, despite the grumbling, he let Shao Zhan go. After all, Shao Zhan wasn’t just a player—the whole team was under his name. Technically speaking, he was the one doing the hiring.
“Go quickly and come back quickly,” Du Changcheng reminded him. “And don’t forget to bring me two packs of adult diapers on your way back.”
Shao Zhan tucked his phone into his pocket, told the others to take good care of the coach, nodded politely to the LAP members, and flagged down a taxi to leave.
The Silver Emperor team base was in the western district, just a couple of blocks from the old team headquarters. A new park had been built there, thanks to government policies and market support.
In recent years, the coastal region’s economy had soared, and the western district was no longer the shining star it once was. Only the old buildings, heavy with time, stood quietly—silent storytellers of former glory.
As Shao Zhan stepped out of the taxi, a cacophony of barking dogs assaulted his ears. He frowned almost imperceptibly.
The manager of Silver Emperor was already waiting at the gate, greeting him with enthusiastic warmth.
Behind the iron gate, two large black dogs—descendants of the Newfoundland dogs once raised by the team owner in his youth—stood barking. They were among the few remaining legacies of the old club.
Shao Zhan’s steps faltered for a moment.
Thirteen years ago, still a teenager, he had once followed his father to visit a friend’s training base and was bitten by a dog even taller than he was.
The memory remained vivid. But after only the briefest pause, he straightened his gaze and walked into the base without so much as a side glance.
…
Back at the breakfast table, Du Changcheng had tested the waters, but when the person in question declined without a hint of emotion, he gave up hope of bringing him back to the team.
After watching Shao Zhan leave, Yang Sa didn’t let go of the coach’s arm and offered, “Let me walk you back to the team base.”
Du Changcheng gripped the arm supporting him. “Let’s walk back together.”
Three years ago, Du Changcheng had tried to recruit the boy into his ranks, but Yang Sa had disappeared without a word. Now that he had returned to the country and was still a free agent, Du Changcheng had his eye on him again—but he was wary of appearing too eager and scaring him off.
He didn’t bring up the sudden disappearance back then, nor the dramatic waves stirred by Yang Sa’s high-profile return. Instead, he began talking about the old days when he himself was still a player.
“You snuck out to play games?” Yang Sa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But weren’t the club’s computers way better?”
It was Fat Tangyuan’s first time hearing this story too, but he still put on the air of a seasoned elder, waving his pudgy hand with mock wisdom: “Ah, you just don’t get it. The flowers at home never smell as sweet as the ones in the wild…”