Chapter 81 – Let Go of That Captain, Let Me Handle This
“What’s so hard to say about this?” the chubby guy said righteously. “What’s wrong with me speaking up for the new captain? So you’re allowed to abuse your power, but we’re not allowed to stand up for justice? Just look—where is our captain’s screen time?”
“Y-you—was that really what you meant just now?” Qin Chuan pointed at the chubby guy, so angry his liver trembled.
He couldn’t be bothered to argue with him anymore and went directly to negotiate with the on-site coordinator about the interview time allocations.
Yang Sa usually didn’t care about things like this. All he wanted was to play well and live up to everyone’s expectations. However, since Manager Qin Chuan was going to speak on behalf of the team, he didn’t want to reject the good intentions.
Before Qin Chuan could bring back any results from the negotiation, Shao Zhan, who was in the middle of an interview, reached over the reporter with a long arm and pulled Yang Sa into the center of the frame. “I didn’t contribute much this time—it was all thanks to our captain and teammates from Xinghai.” He waved, pulling the rest of the team into the interview area. “Don’t go hard on the captain just because he’s new, okay? Please go easy on him.”
Shao Zhan joked as he graciously stepped out of the interview area and retreated backstage.
After a busy afternoon, Qin Chuan finally got a break and took the opportunity to tease him: “So, future retiree, how does it feel watching the new captain play?”
Shao Zhan, of course, could hear the teasing in his voice. He watched Yang Sa handle the reporters with ease and said, “Feels good. Once we’re back at base, I’m planning to pack up and retire. Time to kick back and live off rent.”
“Bah, bah, bah! You’re still so young and already thinking about retirement? That’s bad luck, ptooey!”
He was the one who brought up retirement, and now he didn’t want it mentioned because it was “bad luck.” Having spent so much time with him, Shao Zhan was used to his antics. “What’s the big deal about saying it?”
Qin Chuan poked his arm, which was supported by a brace in front of him. “Still not healed?”
Shao Zhan didn’t say much. “Depends on how it recovers. If it heals well, I’ll play. If it doesn’t…” He shrugged. “Then I’ll retire.” With that, he picked up his buzzing phone and went to deal with work back home.
Qin Chuan was left standing there, puffing with frustration. “You d*mn old bast*rd, and those other loudmouth brats—will you all die if you don’t piss me off for a day?”
As he turned around, he saw the event staff responsible for communication standing right behind him. The previously irritable manager immediately swapped in a full-on professional smile.
Once Shao Zhan picked up the phone, there was no putting it down. Everything from the company had been dumped on him during this sensitive period, so squeezing out time for this trip was a real luxury.
The members of Xinghai hadn’t expected him to stay for the whole event. He didn’t even make it to the celebration banquet, which left them a little disappointed.
But that disappointment belonged to Xinghai. The players from other teams were quite pleased. Just seeing the setup on Xinghai’s side during the interviews, they could tell that old bast*rd had come to reap the harvest. Now that he was nowhere to be seen, it was the perfect time to cozy up to the new captain.
Yang Sa had grown up abroad and spoke foreign languages well. He was able to communicate easily with a few of the international teams. But after a short exchange of pleasantries, he found himself surrounded by the captains of the Jie’ao and Weiguang teams from back home.
“Xiao Sa, come sit with me.”
“Xiao Sa, come sit with me.”
The two stared each other down, neither willing to back off. In the end, they settled on a compromise—each of them grabbed one of Yang Sa’s arms and plopped him down at the Malaysian team’s table.
When the tired Malaysian players returned with their food after the match, they found their seats taken. After a few seconds of silent staring, they shuffled over to squeeze in at the Korean team’s table instead. Though the different languages led to a chaotic mix of misunderstanding, the teams still managed to toast each other with awkward smiles.
Both of the experienced captains were seasoned schemers. They subtly probed about the length of Yang Sa’s contract. It wasn’t exactly a secret, so he told them the truth.
“Well, here’s how I see it,” said Zhou Heng from Jie’ao earnestly, “Your talent is obvious to everyone. What you need most is a big stage like this. You’re young—you shouldn’t be held back. I’ve got, at most, two years left before I retire. So what do you think…”
“I’ve got just one year left,” interjected Mu Chen, Weiguang’s captain, twirling his legs in a circle under the table.
Zhou Heng hissed. “I’ve got six months left before retirement.”
Mu Chen slapped the table. “I’m retiring as soon as I return to China.”
Not to be outdone, Zhou Heng gritted his teeth. “I could announce my retirement tonight—if you agree to join Jie’ao.”
“You can’t just pull something like that!” Mu Chen grabbed Yang Sa’s arm. “You have to at least talk it over with your coach and teammates. Listen to your Brother Chen—don’t pay attention to that loudmouthed old bast*rd. Think about yourself. Shao Zhan’s arm is clearly healing—your time as captain is running out. You might as well…”
“Join me instead,” Zhou Heng cut in, handing him a glass of wine. “Come be captain of Jie’ao. I guarantee double the pay.”
“Shut up, Zhou Dumbass. Do you think Xiao Sa is the kind of person who only cares about money?” Mu Chen jumped in, speaking on behalf of Weiguang. “Join us, and not only will your pay double, but I’ll make sure you get an extra cut of the sponsor deals. I’ll negotiate it myself.”
“Don’t fall for his crap,” Zhou Heng retorted bluntly, dragging Yang Sa into another toast. “It’s all hot air. With me, what you see is what you get.”
“Xiao Sa, come on, let’s drink—just for the sake of our friendship…”
“One’s from Xinghai, one’s from Weiguang—what friendship do you two even have?” Mu Chen scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Xiao Sa. Let’s drink, just us—”
Just then, Shao Zhan walked in, having just finished dealing with work calls. He was still wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, his dark blue tie loosened at the collar. He stepped between the two schemers and smoothly intercepted them: “Let go of that captain—let me handle it.”
He took the drink from Yang Sa’s hand, downed it in one go, and then pulled his new captain away. As they left, he tossed over his shoulder:
“If you try poaching Xinghai’s captain while I’m gone, don’t think it’ll end well.”
“Hey, come on now,” Mu Chen said, not backing down at all. “Your arm’s already healed—why are you still clinging to him?”
“Exactly,” Zhou Heng chimed in, quick to switch sides. “Xinghai doesn’t need two captains. That kid’s too good to waste—why not let him come with me…”
They really wouldn’t give up until they hit the wall, huh?
Shao Zhan ignored the two reckless old troublemakers and turned to the person beside him, asking directly: “What about you? Do you want to go play for their teams?”
Yang Sa shook his head. “I’m only following you.”
“That doesn’t count, that doesn’t count,” said the Jie’ao captain as he tried to pry Shao Zhan’s hand away, attempting to remove the “threat.” “You holding on to him like that—how’s the kid supposed to speak honestly?”
Seeing this, Mu Chen, the captain of Weiguang—who had privately been in contact with Xinghai a few times—fell silent and slumped to the side, nursing his drink in frustration.
His silence only angered Zhou Heng, the Jie’ao captain, even more: “Say something! You’re just gonna let him walk off with the kid like that?”
“Don’t bother,” Mu Chen muttered, refilling his old friend’s cup with bitter wine. “This time, it’s really game over for us.”
…
Shao Zhan brought Yang Sa to a quiet corner of the buffet area and said, a bit sourly, “Captain, this is where you belong. Stop running off.”
They had both been busy, and this was the first time all day they could finally sit down and talk.
“How did you find time to come here? Done with things back home?” Yang Sa asked casually, naturally helping the injured man pick out food.
Shao Zhan stayed by his side, enjoying the quiet care. “Business stuff never really ends,” he said after a pause. “As for your brother—our group finished the internal investigation. All relevant evidence has already been handed over to the police. That includes the Silver Emperor team—no one involved is getting away.”
“Thank you,” Yang Sa said, setting down the plate, both hands braced against the dark brown marble counter. He repeated softly, “Thank you. Thank you…”
Ten years.
It had been ten years since he’d set out to get justice for his brother.
A boy, walking this path all alone for a decade. When he was just a teenager, he had snuck back into the country from abroad to gather evidence—only to be caught and dragged home by his adoptive father. He never expected that would be the start of something like this.
The past years had been exhausting and lonely. If not for Max’s friendship, he might not have made it.
The family that adopted him was powerful, but no one would use even a sliver of their resources for the sake of an adopted child’s past. Yang Sa had been completely on his own—until fate brought them back together.
“What’s wrong?”
Seeing teardrops fall onto the dark marble counter, Shao Zhan pulled him into an embrace, gently patting his trembling back as he comforted him: “I’m here now. I’m here. Don’t cry.”
Then, leaning closer to his ear, he joked, “If anyone sees this, they’ll think the new Xinghai captain is getting scolded.”
Yang Sa let out a teary laugh and stepped back from the hug, though the corners of his eyes were still red and swollen.
Shao Zhan took off his own glasses and placed another pair on him.
“They’re blue-light blockers. No prescription.”
Yang Sa lowered his head, his fingers pinching the edge of the plate over and over. He seemed to say something, but Shao Zhan had to lean in to hear it clearly.
Yang Sa said softly, “I’m just glad… I met you.”
…
The buffet area where they were was a bit of a distance from the seating area, but still within view.
When the captains of Weiguang and Jie’ao started grumbling about Shao Zhan, in the spirit of stirring the pot and never missing a good mess, it was Fat Tangyuan who took the lead and dragged the Xinghai team off to find their two captains.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you even looking for them?” Jiang Ranan grumbled from behind, unwillingly pushing a wheelchair.
“If I don’t find them,” Fat Tangyuan said, biting into a chicken wing, “I won’t be able to eat in peace.”
Jiang Ranan pointed at his plate. “And what’s this, then?”
“Food,” said Fat Tangyuan shamelessly. “Not a single grain of rice on this plate. Problem?”
Off to the side, Qin Chuan—pretending to stroll casually—couldn’t help but comment, “If shamelessness were a competition, our dear Tangyuan would take first place.”
“And keep the title year after year,” Fat Tangyuan added proudly, without a hint of embarrassment.
Once they spotted the two captains, manager Qin Chuan rushed over like a bolt of lightning.
“I swear, you two old sneaks really hid well!”
This Asian Cup had been Yang Sa’s debut, and manager Qin Chuan had privately coordinated with a few media outlets to schedule a quick interview. It was meant to promote the team—and help Yang Sa gain popularity.
But when he saw Yang Sa’s red, swollen eyes, he nearly had a meltdown on the spot and gasped so hard he almost got a cramp.
“You—you—you—this—this—this—” he jabbed a finger at Shao Zhan.
“You’re seriously unbelievable. Couldn’t you save this kind of talk for back at the base? Or at the very least, wait until you’re at the hotel?! You made my team captain cry right before an interview?!”
Now in full-on panic mode, Manager Qin Chuan clutched his head. “What am I supposed to do now?!”