Chapter 48 – Arriving Late with a Hand on His Back
“More your d*mn head! Get lost!”
Shao Zhan’s upbringing had shaped his character. He never minded playing along with social niceties when needed. To many, he was just a spoiled rich boy, coddled by his powerful family and prone to arrogance.
But he had earned his place as number one in the league, shot by shot, through sheer effort. He had pride. He had things he cared about—he just didn’t say them aloud.
He had assumed that the “guest” would be long gone. Once breakfast was over, even Du Changcheng wouldn’t have a reason to keep someone around.
And yet, by some miracle… his boy was still at Xinghai.
When Shao Zhan returned to the base, he had just gotten out of the taxi when he noticed a Mercedes-Benz parked at the villa gate. Faint red-brown stains dotted the car tires.
Weiguang’s captain, Mu Chen, was tugging the car door open with a grim look on his face, his knock-kneed legs planted wide. Next to him, the always-proud pro player Tie Niu looked like a scolded child, head down and neck drawn in like he’d committed a serious crime.
Shao Zhan swept his gaze over the complex expressions on his own teammates’ faces—Fat Tangyuan was nowhere to be seen. The LAP trio, Black, White, and Blue, were present. But Yang Sa was missing.
A thought flashed through Shao Zhan’s mind. “Who got hurt?”
Du Changcheng slowly walked up, one hand on his back: “Xiao Zhan…”
“It was my fault.” Tie Niu of the team closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
“I wasn’t paying attention to the lookout…”
“No, it’s on me,” said captain Mu Chen, taking full responsibility.
“Mid-Autumn Festival is coming up, and one of the kids on the team has family who runs a crab farm. We ordered some hairy crabs to send over as a treat for you guys…”
Shao Zhan’s gaze fell on the side of the car tire—where a few chicken feathers were stuck.
“How’s Bage?” he asked.
Security guard Uncle Zhou’s eyes were rimmed with tears. Jiang Ranan helped him sit down on the steps, while a few young men in security uniforms stood silently behind them.
“Yang Sa and Tangyuan took Bage to the pet hospital,” Zhuang Bai said anxiously as he looked at the scene in front of him.
Shao Zhan knew that hospital—it was located just three blocks from the base, inside a commercial building. As they passed the luxury Benz that had caused the accident, he gave Mu Chen a light pat on the shoulder. “Head back first.”
Tie Niu from Weiguang stood awkwardly with a basket full of crabs in his hands—unable to decide whether to carry it or set it down.
Shao Zhan had no time to deal with all that. He chased after them for two blocks before spotting a bear-like figure clutching a tree, shaking from head to toe like he was drunk.
“Fatty,” Shao Zhan called out, trying to get some information.
Tangyuan was panting heavily, his two pudgy hands waving in the air, trying to gesture something, but he was too out of breath to speak.
Shao Zhan didn’t bother wasting time. He followed the direction Fatty pointed in and made a beeline to the pet hospital.
Inside, the vet had already performed a simple stabilizing procedure on Bage, whose neck was tilted unnaturally to one side. A nurse came out with a freshly developed X-ray in hand.
“How is it?”
“How is it?”
Two voices asked at once.
Yang Sa glanced at the newcomer, then turned his attention back to the doctor, completely unaware of the scratch on his own arm.
The doctor gave Shao Zhan a brief nod, then took a deep breath as he looked at the image.
Bage’s wings were sprained—but that wasn’t the biggest concern. Its cervical spine was nearly crushed. Right now, the bird was only hanging on by a thread. The chances of saving it were slim.
“What do we do?” he asked the two of them.
“Surgery,” Shao Zhan responded calmly. He pointed at Bage, lying on the treatment table.
“As long as the little guy isn’t giving up.” He added, “Put the charges on my tab for now.”
He had rushed out without his card.
Yang Sa didn’t look back. He took out his own credit card and went to pay.
The doctor exchanged a glance with Shao Zhan and motioned for the nurse to process the payment.
“It won’t be cheap,” he warned. “After the surgery, we’ll need to custom-make a neck brace. Depending on the recovery, that brace might have to stay on for the rest of its life.”
Yang Sa only motioned for him to swipe the card and said nothing else. Shao Zhan asked the nurse for some cotton swabs and iodine, then pulled Yang Sa’s arm over to treat the scratches.
After all, Bage was a small animal. Injured and unfamiliar with Yang Sa, it had panicked severely and left quite a few scratch marks along the way.
“It’s fine.” Yang Sa tried to pull his arm back, but Shao Zhan held it in place.
“Consider it—” Shao Zhan said as he gently brought the iodine-soaked swab close to the wound, “—a thank-you for taking Bage to the doctor and paying for its treatment.”
Off to the side, the injured Bage let out a weak, pained croak.
Yang Sa lowered his eyes, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he muttered quietly, “What’s going to happen to it?”
This boy had once barged into his life with a wild, unyielding force, and when he left, it had been just as ruthless. Now he had returned in full force, stirring up waves.
Shao Zhan thought he’d already grown used to the boy’s sharp, blade-like presence—but this was the first time Yang Sa, fully conscious, had shown him a moment of vulnerability.
The shadow of the aloof teenager cast itself across the pristine white table. For some reason, to Shao Zhan, it looked like a lazy ragdoll cat lying on its back, exposing its belly in quiet trust.
Pushing aside the strangely tender image in his mind, Shao Zhan leaned down and gently ruffled the hair at Yang Sa’s crown, just like he would with any other kid in the club. His voice softened as he said, “Xinghai never gives up on any of its members.”
At those words, Yang Sa suddenly looked up—and without warning, his gaze collided with a pool of amber light. The reflection off the glass had caught in Shao Zhan’s eyes, scattering into a dazzling, intoxicating gentleness.
For a moment, the injured teen was caught off guard.
The spell was broken by the sudden ring of a phone. Shao Zhan glanced at the screen and sighed at the name displayed—Qin Chuan. “I’ll take this call.”
He stepped out to the banana trees by the hospital entrance, pacing slowly as he explained Bage’s situation. Just as he was about to arrange for someone to bring Uncle Zhou over, four taxis pulled up outside the hospital.
“Easy now, easy,” Jiang Ranan called out as he stretched an arm toward the staggering old man ahead of him. “Captain said everything’s fine, so it is fine.”
Shao Zhan steadied the dazed Uncle Zhou and looked over the group getting out of the cars. “Why did all of you come?”
The managers and players of Xinghai’s first and second teams had nearly all arrived.
Qin Chuan cleared his throat softly. “Zhuang Bai stayed at the base with Coach Du,” he said, knowing exactly who Shao Zhan was asking about. “The LAP players have already left.”
Shao Zhan gave a slight nod and helped Uncle Zhou into the building. The spacious hospital lobby was nearly empty—aside from the doctors and a few nurses whispering quietly, there was no one else in sight.
Helping Uncle Zhou sit down, Shao Zhan stared at the bare tabletop in front of them. A hollow emptiness echoed inside his chest.
But who would have guessed that the one to break this emptiness… would be someone with a body the size of Bear One or Bear Two.
Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, Fat Tangyuan stumbled into the hospital, nearly collapsing with every step. He squeezed his way through the group with great effort.
“Ba-ba-ba… Bage… how-how-how’s he doing…?”
Shao Zhan took a cup of water from the front desk and handed it over. “Still alive.” As he spoke, he dragged a chair over and shoved it behind Fat Tangyuan.
Fat Tangyuan plopped down so hard that the folding chair nearly collapsed under him. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he complained to Jiang Ranan and Qin Chuan, who had come to check on him:
“You guys… you guys just left me behind…”
He had watched helplessly as taxi after taxi drove away without him, while he had no choice but to trudge along using only his own two feet. Now, clutching Bage’s X-ray film in his hand, Fat Tangyuan cried uncontrollably.
Shao Zhan pushed the oversized head away and rubbed at his chest, feeling suffocated.
…
The team’s beloved Bage made it through surgery without major complications. By the time the group returned, it was already past dinner.
After hastily grabbing a bite, the “bloodied and battle-worn” Du Changcheng dragged himself to the projector, clutching his aching hip, and pulled up recent match footage to break down technical tactics for the team.
Normally, this would have been saved for late night, but since he had to go back to the hospital later for dressing changes, he’d moved it up.
After assigning everyone their individual training, Du Changcheng called Shao Zhan out into the hallway.
“You watched the LAP scrim at the base today, didn’t you?”
Shao Zhan nodded. “Watched the replay on the way back.”
Du Changcheng waited for more, but the pain in his lower back was testing his patience. “Well? What do you think?”
Shao Zhan understood that he was asking about Yang Sa.
“Technically solid,” he said. “Very few weaknesses. Some areas still need fine-tuning based on competitive demands. Game sense and leadership are a little lacking—not really a flaw, just something that needs more experience in high-pressure matches.”
He had a lot on his mind, but didn’t know where to start, so he ended up staring at an oil stain on Du Changcheng’s sleeve.
“You don’t know what to say, or you just can’t say it?” Du Changcheng tapped his player lightly. “You really are a tight-lipped one. Haven’t had a proper talk with him?”
“And you?” Shao Zhan nudged the edge of the ash-grey carpet with the tip of his shoe. “How did your talk with him go?”
“Me?” Du Changcheng nearly choked. “Your poor coach is already half-dead from exhaustion, can’t even keep his ass intact, and I still have to lower myself to handle this kind of thing?” He slapped his own cheeks with loud pah-pah sounds.
“Coach,” Shao Zhan gestured for him to calm down, “You’ve gotta keep at least one—your face or your ass.”
Peeking into the hallway from the training room, Qin Chuan spat on the floor. “Cold-blooded Shao, your persuasion skills are seriously half-assed.”
Du Changcheng’s face darkened further. “Recruiting one player, and you expect me to throw away my pride?”
Shao Zhan stared at the lifted edge of the carpet under his foot, thinking—if all it took was one person to swallow their pride to make this work, he’d have ripped Du Changcheng’s head off by now and scrubbed the floor with it.
“Quiet again,” Du Changcheng grumbled, rubbing his lower back. “I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“That kid’s got something on his mind,” Shao Zhan muttered out of nowhere.