Chapter 72 – Slim Waist
“You think I’m jealous of you?” Jiang Ranan pinched his slim waist. “Yeah, not only am I jealous of you—our whole team, the entire base is jealous of you. Satisfied now?”
“As long as you admit it.” Fat Tangyuan wiggled his toes cheerfully, the ones sticking out from under the cast. One of his teammates, who couldn’t stand the sight, gave him a slap—he yelped so loudly it almost pierced the heavens.
Du Changcheng and Li Bai, who had been discussing the next phase of training in the hallway, burst into the hospital room. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Shao Zhan was also on the phone, waiting for updates. Jiang Ranan turned pale with fright, standing there like a mannequin. Even the usually composed Zhuang Bai lowered his voice. “Does it hurt? Should I call a doctor for you…?”
Lying on the bed, basking in everyone’s attention, Fat Tangyuan shook his plump neck, then wiggled his equally plump and soft toes. “That’s weird… it doesn’t actually hurt.”
Coach Du Changcheng, unable to hold back, smacked him on the head a few times. “If it doesn’t hurt, why the hell did you scream?!”
The German coach, Li Bai, who had never witnessed such chaos, quickly pulled him away in shock.
Tangyuan rubbed his now-messy hair, muttering under his breath in protest but not daring to say much more. He flopped on the hospital bed like a turtle, groaning dramatically in defeat.
“Fatty~” Shao Zhan’s voice came through the phone—he had asked Yang Sa to put him on speaker. “My poor fatty is so badly hurt. Does it hurt a lot?”
At that, the round little guy suddenly sprang up from the bed with surprising agility, raising his hand in a theatrical orchid gesture. “You… scoundrel… you finally remembered me…”
On the other end of the call, Shao Zhan looked like he’d swallowed a fly. “Speak. Human. Words.”
But Tangyuan wasn’t done playing around. “Yesterday, I was your ‘sweet darling.’ Today, I’m ‘Old Lady Niu’? You heartless bast*rd.”
Shao Zhan didn’t even acknowledge his antics and instead brought up a pair of limited-edition headphones he’d been eyeing for a while. “The store clerk just messaged me—they’ve finally restocked the black ones…”
“Captain! Boss! Ancestor!” Fat Tangyuan nearly leapt out of bed. If his leg weren’t in a cast, he might’ve bounced straight up to the ceiling. “I want them! I want them! I want them!”
“No more calling me ‘scoundrel’ now, huh?” Shao Zhan teased, smiling.
“Dearest godfather, please accept your son’s humble bow!” Tangyuan bent two fingers in a mock salute and gave him a bow, then leaned toward the camera like he was sharing a secret. “There’s something I have to confess today. Actually…” He paused for dramatic effect. “I got injured on purpose. Everyone else at the base is in perfect health—I couldn’t just let my godfather be the only one with a disability.”
“Thanks, but the doctor says I can get the cast removed this weekend.”
“This weekend?” Tangyuan raised an eyebrow. “But we’re going to Singapore for the competition this weekend! You think you’ll make it in time just to round out the numbers? Our main player is injured, you know.”
Even after the cast was off, there’d still be rehab, and it was uncertain whether Shao Zhan would be able to compete. But any trace of melancholy was swept away by the little fatty’s comedic antics.
“Captain, I’m injured too!” Tangyuan raised his tiny hand excitedly.
“And?”
“I’d like to request a sub from Team B… I want a vacation too…”
Before he could finish, Du Changcheng smacked him again. In less than half a day, the coach—who felt like he was losing ten years of his life—was already trembling with fury. Shao Zhan, far away from the hospital, tried to calm him down over the phone, saying, “I’m sure our little fat one didn’t intentionally get hurt just because his favorite girl group is performing in China the same weekend as the competition.”
That only made the coach angrier.
Qin Chuan, who had just returned from discussing the injury with the doctor, walked in just in time to see Tangyuan getting hit again. Seizing the opportunity, he landed a few playful punches of his own, finally venting the frustration he’d built up from dealing with the little rascal recently.
Li Bai, who couldn’t pull them apart no matter how hard he tried, finally gave up and folded his arms, “admiring” the tragic fate of Fat Tangyuan. His mind was spinning—this team had achieved such glorious results before he joined. There had to be some hidden secret behind it all. Maybe… just maybe, it was hidden in this very scene before him.
The teary-eyed Tangyuan, being pummeled, gasped out, “You’re overthinking it—really overthinking it!”
If the nurse hadn’t come in for rounds just then, the little fatty probably would’ve taken a dozen more punches.
Still teary, Tangyuan watched the nurse walk away, then muttered to Yang Sa, who was hanging out at the door sneakily texting on his phone again, “Some new captain you are. One of your players is getting gang-beaten and you don’t even step in.”
Shao Zhan’s voice drifted out from the phone speaker: “Fatty~ I’ve already arranged everything for you. Even though your lower half is injured, your upper body can still contribute to the team…”
“You old beast! Are you even speaking human language?! Listen to yourself—does that sound human to you?!” Jiang Ranan couldn’t take it anymore and covered the Fat guy’s mouth. “Captain, just tell us what you want to do with this guy.”
“Rent a wheelchair and bring him back to the base. Keep an eye on him—he can’t skip a single training session, even for half a day.”
Shao Zhan’s plan was overheard word-for-word by the translator who had just returned with a late-night snack. The moment he heard it, he put down the tray and said, “I’ll go rent a wheelchair,” then dashed out like a whirlwind.
Tangyuan, eyes glistening with tears, stretched out his hand, trying to reach out to that rapidly retreating silhouette, and thought to himself: You don’t have to be this eager, you know…
…
It was Yang Sa’s first time leading a team in competition—especially under circumstances like these. If only they’d had a warm-up match or a qualifying round, they could’ve at least worked on team chemistry. The forums were full of pessimistic posts; some even mocked that Xinghai winning the championship was as likely as a gorilla swimming laps.
In the office, Shao Zhan closed the page. These things were usually handled by Qin Chuan, but with the team in its current state, even he was spread too thin. Shao Zhan knew the players’ abilities well. Winning the Asia Cup would normally just be a footnote in their careers—but this time, it meant everything. It could even determine the survival of the entire Xinghai club.
As for his own situation, they couldn’t know for sure until the cast was removed. Whether he could return to pro play was still up in the air. From this point on, every mistake, every loss the team suffered would be magnified online for all to see.
The pressure on the players was unimaginable, but what worried him the most was Yang Sa. That kid seemed to be carrying way too much on his shoulders. Du Changcheng wasn’t in the best of health, so during Shao Zhan’s time as captain, he naturally picked up more of the burden. Bringing in a foreign coach so quickly this time was meant to take some of the pressure off the new captain.
But it didn’t seem to help much. Even in the hospital, Yang Sa took every opportunity during video calls to obsessively go over every tactical detail, even preparing for potential in-game emergencies and asking Shao Zhan how he would handle them.
Shao Zhan patiently answered each one, but his final conclusion boiled down to just four words:
“Adapt to the situation.”
The battlefield changes in the blink of an eye—no one can plan for everything. Thankfully, the Fat one’s comic relief kept the team atmosphere light enough.
If he could, Shao Zhan truly wished he could fly back to base and share the burden with his teammates. But he couldn’t. His responsibilities wouldn’t allow it. All he could do was sit at his cramped desk, trapped in place, as the night outside the window grew darker and deeper.
…
“I’m a patient! I’m still in a cast!”
In the lobby on the first floor, Tangyuan clung to his wheelchair, whining as he tried to stir up some sympathy from his teammates.
“Fatty” Coach Du Changcheng said with deep sincerity, pinching the folds of fat on the back of his neck, “you have to understand—it’s not that we don’t want to care for you.”
“It’s just that with your weight, we physically can’t,” wheezed Team Manager Qin Chuan, blunt as ever.
No exaggeration—it had taken nearly the entire Xinghai team’s collective strength just to get this guy out of the car. And now this little fatty was lying around, wanting to be carried upstairs? Absolute fantasy.
Trying to be helpful, the translator crouched down and offered to carry Tangyuan on his back. But Jiang Ranan, who was the same age, quickly pulled him back up. “Are you nuts? You trying to die? You think you can carry him with that build of yours?”
“What’s wrong with my build?” Tangyuan pouted, wiggling the foot in the cast. Then he turned to Yang Sa with a pitiful voice, “Little Captain…”
Yang Sa had just finished discussing the day’s training priorities with Coach Li Bai. At Tangyuan’s words, he nodded slightly, his expression turning serious. “The big competition is just around the corner. We have to pay extra attention to the health of the players, especially the starters.” His eyes swept across the group. “From today forward, Xinghai’s main team—”
He paused.
“—must not suffer any more non-combat-related losses.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan responded in near unison.
“Manager, coaches, please take care of your health as well,” Yang Sa glanced at his watch. “It’s now 10:45 PM. Take a short break—see you all in the training room in fifteen minutes.”
With that, he turned and led the way. The players and coaches followed closely behind, and Manager Qin Chuan, on his way out, even dragged away the translator who had wanted to stay behind and help.
“Hey! You’re seriously leaving? If you all go—” Tangyuan spun frantically in his wheelchair. “What about me?!”
“Anyone who’s not in the training room in fifteen minutes will have their pay docked…”
Coach Du Changcheng’s voice echoed from above. But Tangyuan wasn’t fazed—he had endorsement deals and a cut from livestream revenues. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Childish. You think someone like me can be bribed with something so petty?”
“Dinner will be docked too…”
The end of Coach Du’s sentence had barely landed when Tangyuan immediately stood up from his wheelchair. Driven by sheer willpower, he began to climb the stairs—literally crawl. When Qin Chuan came back with the crutches that had been bought during Du Changcheng’s surgery but never used, he was greeted by the sight of a giant caterpillar inching its way up the staircase.
He was so startled, he dropped the crutches and ran, afraid he’d caught some kind of mutant virus.
“You people… You’re absolutely heartless… AHHHH—”
That night, the stairwell of Xinghai’s base echoed with cries of pain and suffering, as if someone were weeping in slow motion.
After finally managing to crawl to the training room within the time limit, Tangyuan spotted a package sitting atop his desk. Leaning on the crutches, he half-hopped his way over, nearly in tears as he opened it. With reverence, he pulled out the brand-new limited-edition headphones and placed them on his head like he was handling a sacred relic.
“Captain, I love you. I’ll love you for ten thousand years. Muah muah muah!” Tangyuan, thrilled beyond belief, whipped out his phone and sent a flurry of kiss emojis to his sponsor and “dad,” Shao Zhan.
Even with the power of the new headphones, though, he still got completely wrecked during training—to the point of full-on sobbing.
Taking the players’ conditions into account, Coach Du wrapped up the review session as quickly as possible and dismissed the team to rest.
While they were training, the translator had already carried the wheelchair up to the third floor and was now waiting dutifully at the training room door, having naturally taken on the responsibility of caring for the injured.