Unconventional Center

Chapter 41: The Best Valentine’s Day Gift

One song, “Attraction,” as the background music for the goal highlights; “The Station of Farewell” and “My Name Is Elian” at the beginning and end, respectively—that was all Chu Yangneng contribute to *Absolute Superstar: The White Swordsman*. He would have liked to include a few more songs, but unfortunately, these were the only soccer-related tunes he could recall—at most, he could add two or three classic World Cup theme songs and “Because of You” from Bei Ying, which was a perfect match for the video. Because the date had now reached February 11th, and with the start of the 26th round of the league, Mestalla Stadium was once again packed to the brim. For Espanyol, this was the last match before Valentine’s Day; for Chu Yang, however, it was his final match of the year. That’s because this year’s Chinese New Year falls on February 16. The next match was scheduled for February 18, so Chu Yang didn’t have time to return home. However, Mei Yun and Chu Yu would stay in Valencia to celebrate the Spring Festival with him before heading back, and Chu Yang’s father, Chu Cheng, was already preparing to come to Spain. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the family would be reunited tomorrow, so Chu Yang was feeling quite excited. On the field, this excitement manifested as a fierce desire to score; as soon as he got the ball, all he could think about was scoring, scoring. Yet, as if fate were conspiring against him, shots he considered sure things were either saved by a goalkeeper who seemed possessed by the gods or inexplicably went wide or over the bar. “Chu is taking the free kick—this will be his sixth shot of the match. I wonder if it’ll turn into a goal.” The play-by-play was still being handled by Milk, with Díaz Hugo serving as the commentator; the two had become Valencia’s go-to commentary duo. “Chu seems a bit anxious; his desire to score is intense,” Ugo’s voice sounded very relaxed. “Valentine’s Day must be approaching—our young man is a bit excited. I wonder if his girlfriend is in the stands. Maybe he needs a goal to dedicate to his sweetheart?” “I don’t know if Chu’s girlfriend is here, but I do know his mother is right on the sidelines. With the Chinese New Year just a few days away, I think Chu must be hoping to score a goal as a New Year’s gift for his mother.” Milk was increasingly showing signs of becoming a China expert, while also reading Chu Yang’s mind perfectly. It was already stoppage time in the first half when Lucio was taken down by an opponent thirty meters from the goal, earning Valencia a direct free kick. Chu Yang stepped up to take the kick without hesitation. The coach, his teammates, and the Valencia fans all watched him with high expectations, their minds racing back to that last incredible curving shot—the one Ugo had called “the best goal in Segunda División.” The Zaragoza players were a bit uneasy; Chu Yang’s terrifying free kick last time had made Leonesa the most unfortunate scapegoat in this year’s Segunda División, and they certainly didn’t want to go through the same ordeal. Their fans, however, had mixed feelings: on one hand, they wanted to see a spectacular goal; on the other, they didn’t want their team to fall behind. The best-case scenario would be for Zaragoza to win the match, with the player from China turning this free kick into a spectacular goal. Gresel stood up from the bench. He was somewhat dissatisfied with Chu Yang’s shots in the first half; he believed that if Chu Yang had chosen to pass instead, the team might already be in the lead by now. Of course, if this shot goes in, he’ll be forgiven. Chu Yang stepped back, standing a full dozen meters away from the ball—an incredibly long run-up. Not only in today’s soccer, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a similar example even by scouring the entire history of the sport. “Chu has stepped back a long way—this is his signature free-kick style. I think everyone’s curious whether his last goal was just luck or if he’s truly mastered a fearsome long-range free-kick technique. Now the answer is about to be revealed. Hmm? It looks like something’s happened with the Zaragoza players? Their number 6—oh, Vilde—he doesn’t seem to want to be part of the wall.” The mind-boggling curving shot Chu Yang scored against Leonesa in the 24th round of the league had long been going viral on several famous soccer websites in Spain, and the fact that the shot reached a speed of 130 km/h had become a much-discussed topic. So there was a reason why Vilde didn’t dare to set up a wall—After all, he was positioned on the very outside—the player most likely to be hit by that player from China’s free kick. He certainly didn’t want to experience that, and the instinctive dodging motion of the ball boy on the sideline at that moment clearly showed just how terrifying it was to face such a shot head-on. Chu Yang recalled that before his time travel, the highest recorded ball speed in soccer had already surpassed 210 km/h. Carlos’s shot at the Four Nations Invitational seemed to have reached 136 km/h. After his last goal, he had specifically looked it up—the record in this world was 200 km/h, so that 130 km/h speed was practically child’s play. But facing that “child’s play” head-on still required no small amount of courage. The Valencia fans on the sidelines were laughing their heads off, while the Zaragoza fans were so furious they wanted to tie that coward to the goal line. In the end, Vilde still took his place at the edge of the wall amid the stadium’s boos and his coach’s furious shouts. But judging by his timid expression, people had every reason to believe he’d duck out of the way the moment Chu Yang took his shot. “Looks like we can reserve a spot for this guy on *Crazy Soccer* right now.” This was just a minor incident. Once the wall was set up, the referee looked at Chu Yang, who signaled that he was ready. Some free kicks can be taken quickly, but for those where the referee has clearly signaled to wait for the whistle, you can’t just go ahead on your own. The whistle blew. Chu Yang began shuffling forward in short steps, then accelerated wildly toward the penalty spot and struck the ball fiercely with his left foot. The entire stadium rose to its feet, holding its breath in suspense. Though the head coaches on both sides had different emotions and hopes, they both instinctively clenched their fists. The ball soared into the air, tracing a dramatic arc toward the goal. Vilde didn’t actually step aside; instead, he clutched his head tightly with both hands, hunched over, and turned his body away. But it was all for naught—the ball was moving too fast. By the time he’d finished his movements, it had already curved around the wall and was hurtling toward the goal. Chu Yang was in no mood to play the “a good striker never looks back after shooting” game either; he kept his eyes fixed on the ball as it soared away. It was, once again, that legendary, otherworldly curving shot that had cemented Carlos’s place in history. For Carlos, that goal might have been fifty percent luck and fifty percent skill, but for Chu Yang, it was at least seventy percent skill and thirty percent luck. This was because Carlos couldn’t perfectly replicate the technical details of that shot every time, whereas Chu Yang—when his physical condition allowed—could perfectly reproduce the technical finesse and touch of that moment, then flexibly adjust based on the actual situation. This is also the most mind-blowing aspect of system skills. What others achieve through a flash of inspiration or a stroke of genius becomes, in Chu Yang’s hands, a fixed skill he can use effortlessly. This difference is akin to taking a work of art—one that a master spent countless hours of effort and inspiration, plus a bit of luck, to craft—and putting it on a modern assembly line, mass-producing many of those rare, once-in-a-lifetime masterpieces with modern industrial equipment. Once again, fate was on Chu Yang’s side: the ball struck the post and found its way into the net. Cheers and gasps erupted from the entire stadium like a mountain roar and a tidal wave. Chu Yang slid gracefully on his knees to the sideline, raised both hands once more in a gun-holding pose, and “fired” wildly at the stands. The Valencia fans playfully fell backward in unison, pretending to be shot down. This was his signature celebration. He had already left his mark on Valencia. “Goal! Chu! He did it! Another magnificent and brutal goal! This is the best Valentine’s Day gift Chu could give to Valencia fans—the ball was traveling at a speed of 131. 8 km/h! That crazy Chinese guy!”