Chapter 91 – The Team’s Favorite
“Aiya, move aside, move aside, big brother! Didn’t you see I spilled water on my pants? You’re in my way!” Fat Tangyuan was hopping on one foot back to the dorm to change pants, holding up his waistband.
Causing trouble and making a scene had always come naturally to the little chubby one. What started as just a small water spill turned into a disaster when he jumped and knocked over the whole kettle.
Jiang Ranan, used to cleaning up after his reckless teammates, resignedly mopped the floor while saying to the guy frozen at the doorway in a greeting pose, “Move aside, move aside, lift your foot—no, the other one, the other one…”
Shao Zhan, tall and lanky, made his first public appearance in the training room after surgery—hopping on one foot like a gorilla. A closer look revealed a subtle awkwardness in his movements.
Yang Sa, busy running special training for the new recruits, had no time to pay him any attention. Zhao Yan wanted to ask about his injury but was firmly held back by the new team captain.
Shao Zhan had expected a warm welcome, given his rank, but was shocked to find himself in such a sorry state. So when he saw Qin Chuan arrive, apparently after hearing the news, he was so happy he nearly cried. Just as he opened his arms for a long-overdue reunion hug, the team manager, Qin Chuan, raised a hand to stop him—
“Non-combat personnel, please leave immediately.”
“Non-combat personnel, please leave immediately.”
“Non-combat personnel, please leave immediately…”
Shao Zhan was speechless. These kids were really pushing their luck. He was just about to ask Qin Chuan if they still wanted their salaries this month when he was nearly knocked over by Fat Tangyuan returning in a wheelchair.
And so, the former team captain and team owner, Shao Zhan, found his first task upon returning to the base was to get his sprained lower back treated in the infirmary.
As a bonus, the doctor also checked his arm. “It’s healing well.”
“Spare me the empty talk,” Shao Zhan snapped without courtesy and pulled his arm back. “I just have one question…”
The team doctor turned and briskly cut him off. Shao Zhan didn’t even need to ask.
A seasoned veteran with years on the battlefield, he was all too aware of his own condition.
There was only one match left in the Asian regional qualifiers for the World Championship. Xinghai had to seize this final opportunity if they wanted a shot at the stage they dreamed of.
But even this stepping stone was crumbling, made all the more precarious by their weakest link.
Shao Zhan was anxious. Everyone who cared about Xinghai was anxious. And yet, the doctor still issued a diagnosis ruling him out of competition.
Just as Shao Zhan was trying to wear the doctor down, Zhuang Bai’s call came in.
“Old Zhuang, how are things on your end? Still going smoothly?” Shao Zhan had promised to organize a farewell event for him with Xinghai before he enlisted—something like a send-off.
“I passed the physical. Still waiting on the political review,” Zhuang Bai replied, then asked tentatively, “But enough about me—how are you doing?”
Even though he had left Xinghai, as a veteran of the team, Zhuang Bai’s heart was still tied to his former teammates and the squad.
He hadn’t missed a single Xinghai match. At first, Yang Sa and the second team’s captain had filled in for him. But judging by the timeline, Shao Zhan’s hand should’ve recovered by now. Could the injury really be so serious that he still couldn’t play?
“Is the company stuff keeping you that busy?” After some hesitation, he still couldn’t bring himself to ask directly, so he tried a roundabout approach.
After being teammates for so many years, how could Shao Zhan not know exactly what he was thinking?
Zhuang Bai had always been the nice guy—thoughtful to a fault, always willing to play support for the sake of the team. If it had been Fat Tangyuan on the other end of the call, the first thing out of his mouth would’ve been, “What’s wrong with you? Are you washed up?”—followed by a healthy dose of mockery.
Precisely because it was the considerate Zhuang Bai, Shao Zhan had chosen to hide his condition when Zhuang left the team. And now, he stuck to that decision.
“The company stuff is just a bit messy. It’ll be sorted out soon,” Shao Zhan said.
He wasn’t lying—his uncle’s situation had already been fully investigated.
Back then, he’d failed to report what he knew about Qu Jin’s actions and continued to employ the people involved. But since he had a cooperative attitude and voluntarily confessed the details, the authorities were processing bail pending trial.
“That’s good to hear,” said Zhuang Bai, then slowly tried to fish for information about the upcoming qualifier.
“Just take care of yourself and your dad,” Shao Zhan said. “As for the matches—just sit back and watch Xinghai put on a show.”
“We’re doing fine. My dad’s doing well too,” Zhuang Bai said. “Thanks for finding him a caregiver. I really don’t have any worries now.”
“We’re all on the same team—no need to thank me,” said Shao Zhan. He had never distanced himself from his teammates after Zhuang left. The years they’d fought side by side—those were unforgettable.
“Alright,” said Zhuang Bai. “I’ll be looking forward to Xinghai’s performance. At the very least, you’d better be stronger than when I was still there.”
“We’re so strong it’s ridiculous.”
Shao Zhan ended the call with his usual teasing tone. As he left the infirmary, he spotted Yang Sa waiting at the door—who knew how much of the conversation he’d overheard.
Holding up his phone like a peace offering, Shao Zhan explained of his own accord, “It was Lao Zhuang, checking in on the team. I wasn’t chatting nonsense with anyone else.”
“Did I ask?”
“Then what are you doing here?” Shao Zhan leaned against the wall, grinning at the person clearly there to check on him.
Xinghai’s new captain, the team’s busiest man—surely he hadn’t come to see the team doctor?
Although, now that he thought about it, the doctor was pretty good-looking. Still single too, wasn’t he? Shao Zhan had been away for a while… who knows what kind of weird feelings might’ve developed.
Maybe firing the doctor now could nip this in the bud. But… would that backfire?
“What are you daydreaming about?” Yang Sa called him back to reality. “How’s Lao Zhuang?”
Shao Zhan shoved his hands in his pockets and struck a casual pose. “Seriously? Asking about another guy right in front of your boyfriend?”
Yang Sa turned and walked off immediately, not giving him the slightest chance to keep joking or act like a clown. Alarmed, Shao Zhan rushed after him. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I really am. Don’t go, talk to me!”
In the end, it was Yang Sa’s soft heart that got the better of him. He stopped in his tracks. “I came to tell you not to worry about the qualifier. Just focus on recovering at the base.”
Shao Zhan reflexively protested, “What… I haven’t done anything, though! I really haven’t!”
Then it hit him—he immediately turned toward the infirmary and cursed, “Traitor!”
He really couldn’t understand how the team doctor, who had been with him for years, could betray him so quickly.
“My injury’s fine. Really, I’m fine…”
The former captain was about to argue, but the current captain silenced him with a single glare. “Until the doctor gives the green light, you’re not touching a keyboard.”
“But—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.” The new captain of Xinghai wasn’t taking no for an answer.
What could someone who was clearly in the wrong and could never out-argue Yang Sa do?
Shao Zhan could only sneak a quick kiss when the captain wasn’t paying attention, then hop off to a spot that was just far enough—but not too far—waiting to be dragged back and scolded.
Meanwhile, a group of Xinghai’s first team members, who had initially come to check in on the injured player, had been pulled into the next room by the sharp-eyed Qin Chuan. Now they were all crowded at the door, eavesdropping with sour expressions plastered on their faces.
“Is he shameless or not? Tell me, is he shameless?” muttered Fat Tangyuan, leading the peanut gallery as he sneakily pulled out his phone to snap a photo of the hallway scene.
Then—click—the shutter sound and flash went off at the same time.
Frozen mid-motion, the pudgy boy retracted his arm like a startled turtle, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. “Game over. We’ve been caught.”
Footsteps came thudding toward the door right after.
…
In the days that followed, Shao Zhan truly had no chance to touch a keyboard. He had never imagined that the entire Xinghai organization could unite to such a degree.
Not only had they physically removed the keyboard from his desk, but after daily practice, these little brats would lock the training room. Even the second team and the youth trainees downstairs had joined in the effort. The whole base was on high alert, blocking him out from every angle.
And so, under this intense lockdown, the final match of the Asian World Cup qualifiers officially began.
Initially, Yang Sa had been firmly against allowing the former captain to participate. But after relentless pleading from a certain shameless someone—plus a bit of persuasion from Qin Chuan and Coach Du—he reluctantly agreed to place Shao Zhan on the event staff roster.
Though he had no actual gameplay duties, Shao Zhan still brought his peripherals bag, partly to intimidate other teams with Xinghai’s presence—and partly to reclaim his precious keyboard, which was a very minor but deeply satisfying win for the ex-captain.
During the pre-match interviews, reporters pointed their cameras at Shao Zhan and asked about his recovery and the team’s tactical strategies.
“I’m doing great, as you can see. As for tactics and strategy, that’s up to the current captain.” Having been away from the battlefield for a while, Shao Zhan still handled the media effortlessly, smoothly passing the mic to Yang Sa.
On the brink of a major match, Yang Sa wasn’t in the mood for interviews. He responded with a few standard lines—nothing special, but nothing to criticize either.
As the players warmed up and took the stage, Shao Zhan, clutching his thermos, stayed in the back with the logistics team, sipping the hot water he’d brought along.
The match began. In the first round, Zhao Yan made a misstep and got exposed instantly.
Shao Zhan sipped his water: “Slurp, slurp, slurp.”
In the second round, Yang Sa and Fat Tangyuan managed to stabilize the momentum through solid teamwork.
Shao Zhan sipped his water: “Slurp, slurp, slurp.”
In the third round, Zhao Yan—clearly rattled—fumbled again, giving the enemy team a chance to turn the tables when they should’ve been defeated.
Shao Zhan sipped his water: “Slurp, slurp, slurp.”
As the fourth round had just begun, Qin Chuan turned to the person beside him. “Are you seriously still going? It’s just a bit of hot water—can’t you finish it in one go?”
“It’s hot,” Shao Zhan replied shamelessly, and continued sipping. “Slurp, slurp, slurp.”
Even when the fifth round ended—with their performance taking a sharp nosedive—Shao Zhan was still leisurely drinking his water.
So much so that when the players returned from their mid-game break, they could already hear from outside the door: “Slurp, slurp, slurp.”
“Oh, so it was you, old captain,” said Fat Tangyuan, the first to enter, always quick with a cheeky remark. “Hearing that from outside, I thought some clueless construction crew was out there digging up the street.”
Despite Fatty’s best efforts to lighten the mood, the atmosphere among the team didn’t improve much—especially for Zhao Yan, who was playing his first major tournament with the first team and had made repeated mistakes.
He knew perfectly well he was dragging the team down, but he had no idea how to fix it.
“Yanyan,” Fat Tangyuan said, putting on his best big-brother act, “listen to your chubby brother—there’s winning and losing in every game. Be a man, don’t take it too hard.”
Throughout the break, Yang Sa hadn’t said a single word. But just before leaving the room, he gave Shao Zhan a pat on the shoulder, where tension had visibly gathered.
Back under the bright lights of the stadium, Yang Sa adjusted his headset and said to his teammates, “Five more rounds. Just enjoy every one of them.”
In the sixth round, nerves got the best of Zhao Yan again. He fumbled his landing, misfired, and gave away his position.
Yang Sa immediately called for backup, using the terrain and some crafty movement to eliminate two enemy players rushing in carelessly.
“Man, I’ve gotta say—these other teams are just so polite,” Fat Tangyuan grinned, happily looting boxes. He looked completely satisfied.