Chapter Forty-Eight: Happy Spring Festival (Part One)

This year, Long Bisheng did not return home for the New Year.

Firstly, the journey was long—just getting there would take three or four days. In fact, most of the students at the football school whose homes were far away didn't go back, and Long Yuyun was too busy with military duties to pick him up. It was also the Spring Festival travel rush, and tickets were hard to come by. Secondly, Long Bisheng planned to use this winter break to train intensively. In the past six months, his deepest impression was that time was never enough—he already lagged behind others, and if he didn't seize every moment, the gap would only widen. Thirdly, Long Bisheng felt a strong sense of crisis—Ding Yu had said that every year some students were eliminated. Though some who were eliminated would join other clubs, Long Bisheng didn't want to stake his hopes on that. Half a year had already passed, and Long Bisheng did not wish to be among those eliminated. For these three reasons, after calling home, Long Bisheng settled in to spend the New Year at school.

It was his first New Year away from home, and Yin Xiuping naturally worried. Yet, since he was at school and many classmates were also not returning home, she relaxed a little, only urging him to call home every day.

The three from Liaoning in his dorm hadn't gone home; they hadn't returned last year either and had grown used to this life. Their homes were far from Yun Jia, though not as distant as Xinjiang. Dai Guangming and his two friends, however, had agreed to go home together. Though not from the same place, they had been close since their days at Wuhan Football School, and Wuhan was relatively near Yun Jia.

As the weather turned colder, training hours diminished. Most days, Long Bisheng practiced strength in the gym and worked on sprints and dribbling in the sports hall. Life was plain but fulfilling.

In the past half year, he had learned much, finally brushing against the threshold of professional football, and he had come to understand its harshness. He was nearly eleven now, with four and a half years before joining Yun Jia Tianyu's U-15 squad. Only by persisting through those four and a half years without being eliminated could he count as half a professional player.

By then, football would be his main occupation, and if he made it to seventeen, even as a substitute in a second-tier team, he would earn far more than an average city office worker—such was the current popularity of the Chinese league.

With such rich rewards, the high elimination rate among professional players seemed only natural.

But Long Bisheng wasn't thinking that far ahead, nor was he considering the lucrative future football might bring. He had only one goal: to keep improving, to avoid early elimination. The future, whatever it might be, could wait.

After the school went on winter break, about half of the five to six hundred students remained. The administration was well accustomed to this situation. On New Year’s Eve, they organized a dinner, followed by a broadcast of the Spring Festival Gala in the assembly hall. But most of the children showed little interest in the gala, preferring to play games or call home.

Long Bisheng also called his family. He was clever enough to plan an early call, hoping to avoid the rush for the phone booths. But after watching a bit of the gala and heading to the public phones, he found the booths packed with students from the football school, all waving phone cards and waiting their turn.

He tried squeezing in but couldn't. Though he was big and strong, in moments like these, physical size didn’t always help—much like how those who manage to buy train tickets during the Spring Festival rush aren’t always the biggest.

After several failed attempts, Long Bisheng returned to his dorm in frustration—not because he couldn't get through, but because he had promised his mother to call every day. If he called late, she would worry.

Opening the dorm door, Long Bisheng was stunned. Coach Ding Yu was sitting casually on a chair, playing cards with the three Northeasterners.

Ding Yu was also from the Northeast, his hometown in Tieling, making him half a fellow countryman with Zhao Benshan. After settling in Yun Jia, he had brought his parents over, so returning home wasn’t an issue. He was probably bored at home and had come to the school, and as for why he chose Dorm 505 to play cards, the reason was simple: Dorm 505 was the cleanest in the entire school.

“I heard from Hu Gantang and the others that you went to call home. Why are you back? Did you finish your call?” Ding Yu asked, holding a handful of cards, surprised at Long Bisheng’s return.

“Obviously, the line was too long. I’ll just call later, so I don’t have to wait so long,” Zhang Yi said with a laugh.

“The line wasn’t long, it was thick,” Long Bisheng pulled up a stool and grumbled.

The four were puzzled at first, then understood what he meant and burst out laughing. Ding Yu laughed so hard he coughed. “These kids, they don’t even know how to queue… Forget it, Long Bisheng, I bet you really want to call home. Use my phone.”

At the turn of the millennium, not many owned phones, and even if they could afford them, they rarely used them. But with Ding Yu’s income, he could afford a mobile.

Long Bisheng hesitated, then took the phone Ding Yu handed him and dialed home.

Ding Yu’s phone had excellent signal, and on this busy night, the call went through easily. It rang once, and Long Bisheng heard a familiar voice: “Is that Bisheng?”

“Mom, it’s me!” Long Bisheng managed to say, his voice choking. He turned halfway, not wanting the others to see his reddening eyes.

“Play cards, play cards,” Ding Yu said quietly to the Northeastern trio. “Whose turn is it?”

Long Bisheng walked a few steps toward the door, listening carefully to his mother’s gentle admonitions from the phone: “Remember to wear more clothes, shower promptly after sweating during training, watch out for colds, eat more, don’t go hungry…”

With each phrase, Long Bisheng nodded. Though he had heard these words many times in recent days, at this special moment, every word tugged at his longing for home.

Yin Xiuping continued her rambling for ages before catching herself and laughing, “Look at me, I’m getting so talkative. Your dad wants to talk to you now.”

“Dad!” Long Bisheng called.

Long Yuyun’s calm voice came through the receiver: “Yes, very good. Son, how has it been these past six months? Are you adapting?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The coach and classmates are all helping me. I’m doing well,” Long Bisheng said, nodding.

“That’s enough from me. By the way, someone’s been waiting all day for your call,” Long Yuyun said with a smile.

“Who?” Long Bisheng asked, puzzled.

Long Yuyun didn’t say more, simply handed the phone over. Within seconds, a voice both familiar and unfamiliar came through: “Ah Long, you! You didn’t come home for New Year’s! I made a wasted trip to your house!”

“Who are you…?” Long Bisheng asked hesitantly, “Who are you?” The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

The caller’s voice immediately brimmed with dramatic grievance: “Heavens, you’ve forgotten me already, but I still remember the days we spent together…”

Hearing those first words, Long Bisheng was so startled that he accidentally hit the speaker button. The plaintive voice echoed through Dorm 505: “You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. It was half a year of joyful days, seeing each other daily and walking together on the beautiful grasslands…”

“Wahahahaha…” Ding Yu and the others burst out in laughter, staring in disbelief. Long Bisheng, however, recognized the tone: “Azati, is that you, Azati?”

The voice returned to normal: “You finally remembered! By the way, I’ve changed to a Han name—Li Fang! Next year, I’ll join the first team. Once I sign my professional contract, I plan to bring my parents to Yun Jia for the New Year! I came to see you, but you’d already gone to Yun Jia. I’ll come find you as soon as I’m back!”

“That’s great, Azati—no, Li Fang! I looked for you after I came to Yun Jia, but everyone said there was no Xinjiang player named Azati. I didn’t realize you’d changed your name,” Long Bisheng said excitedly.

“It’s more convenient with this name. I like it!” Li Fang laughed. “So, how are things with you? You know I went straight to the Yun Jia youth squad, so I’m not familiar with the football school. I don’t know what kind of training you’re getting.”

“Pretty good, I’ve learned a lot,” Long Bisheng replied.

They chatted a bit more, then Li Fang promised to visit as soon as he returned to Yun Jia. Long Yuyun gave a few more words of advice, and Long Bisheng ended the call. Seeing that he’d talked for over ten minutes, he sheepishly said to Ding Yu, “Coach Ding, I took too long… I have money here—will ten yuan be enough?”