Unconventional Center

Chapter 16: The Trickster from China

“Goal!!! A brilliant goal! A cunning goal! The clever player from China fooled everyone—yes, everyone—with just a single glance upward. His eyes deceived the whole world!” “Poor Ibaka,” said Ugo, who seemed relatively calm compared to the frenzied Milk. “There was nothing wrong with his move; his problem is that he was too clever. My only question is whether Chu from China decided to shoot only after seeing Ibaka move, or if all of this was part of his plan. If it’s the latter, then this Chinese player is terrifying—he has the potential to become a superstar striker. Players who use their brains on the field will always go further than those who only use their feet.” “Let’s take a look at the replay. Right here—Chu looks up, then flicks his ankle. The two movements happened completely simultaneously. My goodness, wasn’t he worried that Ibaka wouldn’t fall for it? If Ibaka hadn’t charged out at that moment, the ball would have gone straight to his feet, and this spectacular goal would have turned into a massive joke. What a confident and daring player from China.” “So we also have to thank the clever and decisive Ibaka, don’t we? His wonderful teamwork made this spectacular goal possible.” Although it was an extremely subtle and understated goal, the reaction it sparked was even more sensational than a stunning long-range shot from forty meters out. All the Valencia fans erupted in wild cheers, and the entire Mestalla Stadium shook as if hit by an earthquake. Chu Yang sprinted toward the sideline. At the peak of his speed, he suddenly dropped to his knees, gliding across the turf like a high-speed train. He crossed his arms in front of his head, then lowered his left hand and placed his right hand beside his forehead, saluting. The “Beast’s” gliding salute—Chu Yang, who had just turned Ronaldinho’s signature no-look pass into a goal—replicated the classic celebration move of the “African Andy Lau.” The crowd on that side of the stands went wild with excitement. Mei Yun watched Chu Yang below—who seemed like a completely different person—and trembled with excitement, desperate to shout to everyone, “This kid is my son!” The people around her had all stood up, blocking her view, but she knew Chu Yang was right there. Even with her eyes closed, she could picture his smug expression—obviously overjoyed yet deliberately keeping a straight face. Chu Yu, on the other hand, looked around in bewilderment at the excited fans, with only one thought in her mind: It seems… Chu Yang has really become quite impressive? Mo Ya and the others had already run over, and Chu Yang stood up to embrace them. “Bro, you even tricked me!” “Way to go, Chu!” “That was awesome! How did you decide to shoot? You were just guessing, right? You were going to pass, but the pass went awry.” “All right, guy from China, I’ll admit you’re one of us now.” After all, the team was still trailing, so Chu Yang wasn’t in the mood to celebrate too wildly. He exchanged a glance with Mo Ya and led his teammates back to their positions. On the sidelines, Gresel pumped his fist vigorously, and the entire bench erupted in celebration over the goal. Heike raised both hands, gave Gresel a hearty high-five, and said, “Congratulations, Marco. Looks like you’ve got yourself a smart striker. This kid is definitely going to be a big deal.” “No, congratulations to Valencia,” Greseldau replied. “God knows I was thinking of killing him just a second ago. What an unbelievable kid.” Brady called his captain over to the sideline; the roaring crowd forced him to shout at the top of his lungs, “Have Ibaka mark that kid—don’t let him out of your sight for a second!” “Got it, boss. Don’t worry—they won’t win. We’re in the lead right now.” “If you don’t want to leave here in tears, defend like hell! Stop thinking about scoring, scoring, scoring! Oh, damn it, a goal!” After a brief outburst, the players from both teams took their positions again. William Nathan and Eduardo, standing at center circle ready for the jump ball, couldn’t help but glance at the calm player from China not far away, their eyes blazing with intensity. They were supposed to be the stars of the night, but who would’ve thought that little guy—who’d only come on in the 70th minute—would so effortlessly steal the spotlight from them. “Beep!” The whistle blew, and Nathan passed the ball to Eduardo. As soon as Eduardo received the ball, he saw a figure charging toward him. He quickly passed it back to midfield, and only when he looked up did he see Chu Yang rounding him to chase after the ball. Watching the ball roll farther and farther away from him, Chu Yang hated his own lack of speed more than ever before. “Strikers without speed really are total losers.” Fifteen minutes, one goal—that’s hardly an impossible task on a soccer field. The Valencia players erupted with unprecedented fighting spirit, but Ameyari’s resolve to hold their ground was unwavering. Aside from Nathan, who was pinned just outside Valencia’s penalty area, even Eduardo had retreated to midfield to help with defense. The team’s striker was a rough-and-tumble player, and Ameyari’s overall playing style was much the same—their offense relied mainly on long passes and high balls, while their defense depended on all sorts of aggressive tackles. “Hey, buddy, you don’t have to mark me that closely. I’m not even carrying a racket—what are you so afraid of?” “Afraid of you?” Ibaka snapped. “Man, you know what? You’ve made a laughingstock of me.” “Come on, you should think about it this way: when I become a legend someday, you’ll be the supporting player by my side at the very start of my legend—vibrant and green, your name will be remembered for generations.” “A legend? Are you crazy? A guy from China?” “What’s wrong with being from China? Can’t a Chinese person be a legend?” Chu Yangdao. “Fine, then I’ll just be the ‘Great Demon King’—the Great Demon King of soccer. Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it?” “Shut up. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Hey, bro, you can’t just…” Chu Yang looked really hurt, but halfway through his sentence, he turned and ran off. The ball arrived. “Damn it, I knew it.” Ibaka hurried after him. He was even a bit slower than Chu Yang, and with the game in its final stages, his stamina was running low—he was quickly left behind by Chu Yang. But Chu Yang couldn’t catch the ball either, because the opposing No. 4 had already charged in and kicked it away with a single swing of his foot. With quick reflexes, Chu Yang blocked the shot. The ball hit his foot and soared high into the air, flying behind No. 4. No. 4 looked up in confusion. Where had the ball gone? “Oh, poor kid. His long clearance was deflected by Chu, and now he can’t find the ball.” Chu Yang suddenly raised his hand and pointed his index finger toward the sky to his left. No. 4 instinctively and dumbly looked in the direction Chu Yang was pointing, and Chu Yang took the opportunity to accelerate away from him. Bursts of laughter immediately erupted from the stands; even the Meyari fans couldn’t help but chuckle, while the Meyari players felt an urge to cover their faces and go home. Chu Yu laughed so hard she collapsed into Mei Yun’s arms. Only then did she realize that Chu Yang had gone easy on her—that little rascal was downright mischievous when he was teasing outsiders. It was a hilarious scene, but in fact, there had been a precedent for this on the soccer field in Chu Yang’s previous life—back then, it was the mischievous Pi Kuanchuan, the “Young Master Pi,” who had pulled that prank. “You idiot, go after him!” Only then did No. 4 realize he’d been tricked; seething with rage, he charged after Chu Yang. “Oh, those poor Ameyari defenders—they’re being led around by the nose by China. That big con artist Chu is just too cunning. Hmm, he’s caught up to the ball—what a terrible first touch.” Chu Yang’s poor ball control allowed No. 4 to quickly close in from behind. Not daring to pause, he dribbled the ball straight toward the penalty area.