Chapter Forty-One: Haste Makes Waste

Very quickly, Long Bishing realized the gap between himself and his classmates. Even in basic training, a seemingly ordinary segment, he lagged far behind those who had received proper instruction from the beginning.

For instance, while performing the same movements, his peers could execute them in ways best suited to their physique, conserving energy. Once these movements became instinctive, their effectiveness in future matches would only increase.

Such gaps cannot be bridged in a day or two. Only relentless practice and suitable guidance can turn these actions into second nature. Long Bishing possessed the determination for such practice, and at Yunjia Tianyu Football School, he could receive the guidance he needed.

For now, however, the difference between Long Bishing and the others was undeniable. During training, Coach Ding Yu didn't focus most of his attention on Long Bishing, but whenever he called his name, it was always to point out mistakes in his technique.

Each time his errors were highlighted, Long Bishing would spend extra time correcting and practicing those movements. Someone else might have grown angry, feeling singled out by the coach, but Long Bishing thought differently.

Perhaps it was due to his sense of inferiority—especially after seeing how much stronger the other students were—that he understood clearly: compared to these outstanding youths gathered from all over the country, his only advantage was his height. In terms of skill or talent, he had nothing to boast about. To survive in the brutal, competitive world of Yunjia Tianyu Football School, he knew there was only one way: to work tenfold, even a hundredfold harder than everyone else.

His only stroke of luck was that he was still young, with enough time to catch up to the others.

A mere two hours of training left Long Bishing feeling exhausted, more so than a whole day of practice back in Xi’an.

He was tired, truly tired. Before, training meant simply completing the exercises set by the coach, who never said much. But today, even the smallest misstep or imprecise movement was immediately spotted by the young, handsome coach, who made him repeat the action ten times until he got it right. This Ding Yu, seemingly casual, actually watched every move of the nearly fifty-member class, letting nothing escape his eyes.

After training and lunch, Long Bishing planned to practice a bit more on the field, since he had made the most mistakes and hadn’t finished all the drills. But Ding Yu intercepted him at the edge of the field with a single reason: it was nap time, and the field was closed.

Dejected, Long Bishing returned to dormitory 505. As he reached the door, about to enter, he heard voices coming from inside.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so damn tired. It’s only the first day—how are we supposed to survive?” Zhou Wei moaned, and just from the sound, Long Bishing could picture the scene: Zhou Wei was surely sprawled on the bed, probably having Wu Bufan, who often joked and wrestled with him but was a good friend, help him massage his sore muscles.

“Look at you!” Dai Guangming laughed. “Already tired? Might as well go back to Wuhan, it’s way easier there… But don’t tell anyone you know me or Wu Bufan, and don’t claim to have been our teammate when we become stars.”

“Come on!” Zhou Wei protested. “I’m just complaining, who’s going back to Wuhan? Even if you get eliminated, I won’t leave!”

Hearing this, Long Bishing was about to open the door when Wu Bufan suddenly said, “What’s all the fuss? We should learn from Long Bishing. He said at lunch he was going to train extra this afternoon.”

“Extra training? That guy’s sly, didn’t even invite me,” Dai Guangming grumbled. “We newcomers ought to train more, or else we’ll be eliminated quickly.”

Long Bishing paused, curious to hear what the others thought of him—his old insecurity rising again.

“Extra training?” Hu Gandang laughed, and Zhang Yi and Li Jie joined in. “Just wait, he’ll be back in a few minutes… Every year, new students try to sneak in extra practice, but the coach always sends them back.”

“Why?” Dai Guangming and the others asked in surprise. Isn’t extra practice a positive thing? Sacrificing free time to improve should be encouraged.

“It’s not that extra practice isn’t allowed, just not during nap time… For adults, skipping a nap isn’t a big deal, but for us, missing it can affect our physical development. Our previous coach always said that endless extra practice doesn’t help much—in fact, it can make us lose more than we gain.”

“What do you mean?” Unable to hold back, Long Bishing pushed open the door and called out loudly.

Everyone jumped in surprise, and Zhou Wei nearly fell off the bed. “Come on, Long, you scared me!”

“Sorry,” Long Bishing apologized, then asked Hu Gandang, “You’re right—Coach Ding Yu sent me back to nap. Why does the coach say we shouldn’t overdo extra training?”

Hu Gandang had an answer ready, suggesting his former coach had valued him highly. “Because our training schedule is precisely tailored to the physical capacity of our age group, just enough to use up our daily energy and allow us to recover by the next day. Overtraining leads to fatigue, which makes us prone to injury. Injuries waste time and can turn into chronic problems that are hard to heal. In short, it’s a case of ‘more haste, less speed.’”

“I see… That makes sense. When you’re tired, training doesn’t go well anyway,” Dai Guangming nodded. “But people are different. Long is still lively, while Zhou can’t even get up. If the rule is too rigid, it might not be good for everyone.”