Chapter Thirty-Eight: A New Semester

At Yun Jia Tianyu Football Academy, which gathered the nation's top youth talents across all age groups, Long Bisheng, who was the last to enroll, found his presence as peripheral as his late arrival itself—a dispensable afterthought.

Fortunately, he had six good roommates. Dai Guangming and the others never looked down on him or belittled him for lagging behind in various aspects; instead, they did their best to encourage him.

“I heard this before I ever came to Yun Jia,” Dai Guangming once told Long Bisheng with deep meaning during a chat. “Yun Jia Tianyu doesn’t keep idlers. Maybe other clubs have people who get in through connections, but not here. Here, everyone is the best… If you’re not among the best, you can’t even get through the door. Just being admitted means you have some quality that sets you apart from ordinary people... In all of China, for every age group, only a few dozen players are scouted by Yun Jia Tianyu.”

At this point, even the usually composed Dai Guangming allowed a trace of pride to appear on his face. After all, he was one of them. Although he had transferred from Wuhan Football School, there was frequent movement of people between Yun Jia Tianyu and Wuhan Ya Zhi, and many coaches at the Wuhan school had come from Yun Jia. Both he and Wu Bufan had been recommended by one such coach, which was how they ended up here.

“So what’s my special trait?” Long Bisheng asked hastily.

Dai Guangming looked awkward. Smart as he was, with his unique perspective, he was still only ten years old, and had known Long Bisheng for just a week—how could he be expected to discern Long Bisheng’s strengths?

“A trait… well… I’m not really sure,” Dai Guangming stammered, prompting the others to burst out laughing.

“I may not know, but the coaches certainly do!” Dai Guangming, embarrassed by the laughter, still declared loudly, “You can doubt me, but you can’t doubt the coaches, can you?”

At that, the others fell silent. It was true—they all knew how they’d gotten here. Each of them had excelled in some area and been noticed by Yun Jia Tianyu’s scouts. For example, Hu Gantang and Li Jie, when they were at the Dalian Football School, hadn’t exactly stood out, but out of dozens of players, the scouts picked the two of them. Even when Zhang Yi took the entrance exam, among dozens of kids—including the son of a famous football legend—many were eliminated, and Zhang Yi still didn’t know what criteria had earned him a place.

Yet, after a year or two of focused training, their talents began to shine. Even in a place as stacked with elite players as Yun Jia Tianyu, they were among the best.

This was why young footballers across the country scrambled to get into Yun Jia Tianyu. Talented horses are common, but true judges of talent are rare; Yun Jia Tianyu had many such judges. They didn’t always succeed, but even a small increase in the success rate of nurturing young players was a tremendous asset.

Still, despite Dai Guangming’s words, Long Bisheng couldn’t shake his unease. In his eyes, even just among his six roommates, every one of them was a top talent for their age. Compared to these outstanding individuals, he felt like a grain of sand in the eye—something no one could tolerate. Could Yun Jia Tianyu really accept a grain of sand like him?

What Long Bisheng didn’t know was that sometimes, even a grain of sand has its purpose—how much more so, a person.

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August 25th marked the official start of the new semester at Yun Jia Tianyu Football Academy.

There was no grand opening ceremony. Instead, at six-thirty in the morning, the school’s bell—which had been silent for over a month—suddenly rang out loudly across the campus.

Hu Gantang, Li Jie, and Zhang Yi, who had already spent one or two years at the academy, immediately leaped out of bed, calling loudly to Long Bisheng, Dai Guangming, Zhou Wei, and Wu Bufan, who were still groggy and slow to react: “Up, up! Get moving! We’ve only got ten minutes to get to the field for morning run! If you’re late, you’ll be punished!”

Without a word, Long Bisheng sprang up and began dressing. Dai Guangming and Wu Bufan were quick as well. Zhou Wei, still half-asleep, sat up and asked drowsily, “What time is it? Why are we getting up now?”

“Stop whining!” Hu Gantang, already dressed, jumped off his bed. “Hurry up! If you’re late, you’ll have to run an extra three kilometers! Last year, someone was almost expelled for being late on the first day!”

On hearing that, Zhou Wei jolted awake—long-distance running was his nemesis. He was fast in a sprint, but lacked endurance, which was why he’d struggled to get playing time back in Wuhan. Coming to Yun Jia was his chance, and he wasn’t about to squander it.

Hu Gantang was about to head out to wash up when a large figure dashed past him; soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.

“How is he so fast at getting dressed and making his bed?” Hu Gantang marveled. He thought he was quick, but Long Bisheng, who’d gotten up later than him, had still beaten him to it.

“Of course—he grew up in the army compound… Who’s fastest at getting dressed and making the bed? Obviously, army kids!” As Hu Gantang was still musing, Dai Guangming, just a split second slower, shot past him, tossing out a mocking remark as he went.

“You sly fox!” Hu Gantang shouted, unwilling to be left behind, and chased after him. Even though each dorm bathroom was big enough for seven kids to wash up at once, for these boys who competed at everything, even making it to the field a second ahead of the others was a victory.

The four still making their beds exchanged glances, then looked at Long Bisheng’s bed, the quilt folded as neatly as a block of tofu. They all let out an admiring sigh and hastened their own efforts.

A new semester was about to begin. For those like Hu Gantang, who had already spent a year or two at Yun Jia Tianyu, and for newcomers like Long Bisheng, it promised to be a term full of anticipation.