Chapter Fifty: Li Fang Pays a Visit

“Hey! We're back!”

On the seventh day after New Year's, as Long Bisheng and the others finished their afternoon training and were eating dinner in their dormitory, the door was pushed open. Dai Guangming and two others walked in grinning, each carrying a large bag.

“Huh, you’re back already on the seventh day?” Hu Gantang stood up. “Why not stay home a few more days? Eat more, turn into fat pigs, then this year we’ll have three fewer candidates for elimination!”

“Malicious and shameless,” Zhou Wei pointed at Hu Gantang. “How do I even know someone like you? It’s a disgrace to me.”

With a thud, Wu Bufan dropped his bag onto the table. Li Jie cried out, “My cards—damn, this hand was so good, and you—”

“Here, try a specialty from Xiangfan, King Kong Crunch,” Wu Bufan took a plastic package from his bag and stuffed it into Li Jie’s hands, silencing him. Then he turned to the others, smiling, “You’re eating dinner? Try this, pickled turnip, goes great with rice.”

“And I brought sausages and cured meat from home, all cooked.” Dai Guangming pulled out several plastic packages, the sausages and cured meats already sliced, glistening under the light.

“I brought the same,” Zhou Wei produced several more packages of sausage and cured meat. “We won’t need to buy vegetables for meals these next few days.”

Long Bisheng swallowed hard, struggling to say, “Won’t eating all this add to our fat?”

“Oh, shut up, a few meals won’t kill anyone,” Zhang Yi replied irritably, then spat twice for emphasis. “Eating a bit on occasion doesn’t matter… A-Long, go get rice. Looks like those three haven’t eaten yet, just plain rice will do.”

“Alright.” Long Bisheng said no more, grabbed the lunch boxes for Dai Guangming and his friends, and dashed out. He returned from the canteen with a full kilo of rice. When the cafeteria chef asked why he wasn’t getting any dishes, Long Bisheng just laughed, “We’ve got plenty in our dorm.”

When Long Bisheng returned, the others were already gathered around the table, their mouths glistening with oil. He squeezed into a vacant spot, quickly picked up his chopsticks, and grabbed several pieces of sausage to eat.

“Weren’t you just complaining that this would make you fat?” Zhou Wei asked.

Long Bisheng swallowed, then mumbled, “I’ve realized, both my dad and the coach want me to blend in with you guys. Whatever you eat, I can’t not eat…”

“You rascal, sly as ever!” Zhang Yi pointed at Long Bisheng and burst out laughing.

As they joked and laughed, the door swung open again—tonight was truly lively.

The newcomer had thick brows and large eyes, a calm expression, and set a bag down on the floor with a clang of metal, startling the group.

“Quite lively in here,” he said with a smile.

---

“Azhati… No, Brother Li Fang!” Long Bisheng rose in surprise, “You’re Brother Li Fang!”

“Yes.” The former shepherd boy, Azhati, now a member of the Yunjia Tianyu reserve squad, smiled at him. “Bisheng, it’s been almost two years. You’ve grown taller—give it a few more years and you’ll catch up.”

“So you’re back in Yunjia? What about Uncle Maimaiti and the others? Did they come too?” Long Bisheng craned his neck to peer behind Li Fang.

“Not yet. They’ll arrive later. I was eager to see you, so I came first,” Li Fang explained.

While the two chatted, the others stood up as well. For boys barely over ten years old, Li Fang, who had already signed a professional contract with Yunjia Tianyu, was a figure they looked up to.

“Your place was easy to find,” Li Fang said, pulling up a chair and waving for them to sit. “You’re Bisheng’s classmates, right? My little brother here hasn’t played football for long, so please be patient with him.”

“Of course, of course,” they all nodded vigorously.

“They’re my good friends,” Long Bisheng said shyly. “They help me a lot.”

Li Fang nodded, sniffed the air, and called out like a new recruit, “Smells amazing… You brought this from home, didn’t you? Having a feast? Mind if I join?”

“No problem, just another pair of chopsticks and bowl,” Dai Guangming laughed. “We’ve got disposable ones, join us. We won’t finish it all anyway.”

“I won’t eat for free,” Li Fang chuckled, lifting the bag he’d set down. “Let me treat you to authentic Xinjiang Little Fat Lamb…”

Everyone stared as he unpacked item after item: a hotpot stove, stainless steel pot, several packs of seasoning, a bottle of alcohol, and two hefty packages of frozen, sliced lamb.

“How did you get all this on the train? Isn’t alcohol a flammable, explosive item?” Even the boldest, Hu Gantang, was startled at the sight.

“Don’t be silly. I bought the alcohol after getting off the train. You think I’ve never traveled?” Li Fang shot him a look. “Honestly, the Yunjia food is decent, but I crave Xinjiang lamb, especially hotpot. Nothing here tastes right! I brought loads of seasoning from home, all things you can’t buy locally. Now, whenever we want a treat, we’ll have it! You’re lucky—first meal in Yunjia, and you get to eat with me!”

“Awesome, awesome!” The variety of seasonings had everyone drooling. They quickly cleared space on the table, and Long Bisheng, familiar with the Xinjiang style of eating, helped Li Fang set up the hotpot and add the seasonings.

Once the broth began to bubble, Li Fang dipped a thin slice of lamb, swished it briefly, and popped it into his mouth, chewing enthusiastically. “Hurry and eat, it tastes best right now!”

“Is it really cooked after just a quick dip?” Zhou Wei hesitated, picking up a slice, wondering if Li Fang, perhaps from a minority group, preferred eating raw meat.

While Zhou Wei pondered, Wu Bufan followed Li Fang’s example, dipped a slice, and took a bite. His eyes lit up, “Delicious!” He immediately grabbed another.

---

With Wu Bufan setting an example, the others quickly joined in, and only then did they realize why Li Fang ate this way—the lamb cooked almost instantly, and any longer would spoil its tenderness. It was incredibly fresh and tasty!

No wonder he grew up herding sheep; even his lamb hotpot was exceptional! Hu Gantang and the others feasted, marveling inwardly.

In truth, while Li Fang's hotpot was delicious, it wasn't truly extraordinary. Students at school rarely got to eat anything so tasty, and the lamb hotpot, with its unique flavors for those from the north and central regions, seemed especially enticing.

Soon, the aroma wafting from the hotpot drew attention from nearby dorms. A group of ten-year-old boys, noses twitching, wandered over. Li Fang, generous as ever, welcomed everyone. The local ingredients were easy to buy, and he had brought plenty of rare seasonings; no matter how many joined, he was prepared.

Eventually, everyone from around Dorm 505 came by, and when the crowd finally dispersed, not a scrap of the five pounds of lamb remained.

“These kids are pitiful, so starved for good food…” Li Fang wasn’t upset about the lamb being gone; instead, he watched the lingering students leave and asked Long Bisheng, “Is your school’s food really this bad? Do you never get meat?”

After satisfying their hunger, Li Fang stood to leave, amid heartfelt calls of “Come again next time!” Long Bisheng escorted him out.

“By the way, Brother Li Fang, where will Uncle Afanti and the others stay when they arrive?” Long Bisheng asked as they walked.

“The club has arranged a dormitory; now I can live with them. It's not big, but better than being apart,” Li Fang replied with a smile. “When I become a starter and earn money, I’ll buy a house.”

“I believe you’ll make the starting lineup, Brother Li Fang!” Long Bisheng said sincerely.

Li Fang smiled, “Bisheng, it’s not that simple.”

He glanced at the gray sky. “I used to think it was easy, but when I actually started playing, I realized my foundation was far weaker than those who played football from childhood. That’s why, after daily training, I add two extra hours of basic drills—my weakness. Bisheng, I know you’ve always wanted to be a professional player, but compared to those who started young, we’re at a real disadvantage. We have to work hard, make up for what we lack, or we’ll never truly become professionals. Right now, you and I have only touched the threshold of professionalism. There’s still a long road before we walk through that door.”

“I understand, Brother Li Fang.” Long Bisheng clenched his fists. “If I’m behind in skill, I’ll make it up with time. If one extra hour a day isn’t enough, I’ll train two. I won’t let myself be eliminated; otherwise, I don’t know what else I could do. I can’t concentrate on studies, and if football doesn’t work, I’ll have no path forward!”

Such a sense of crisis at such a young age—who can say if it’s good or bad?

Li Fang wanted to say more but held back. He gave Long Bisheng’s shoulder a firm pat. “Alright, you should head back. I’ll catch a ride to the dorm.”

“Goodbye, Brother Li Fang!” Long Bisheng called after him.