Prologue: Time, Please Don't Rush

The shrill sound of the whistle was like a dagger, capable of ignoring the 7,000 kilometers and five hours between the stadium and home, piercing the hearts of hundreds of millions of Chinese football fans watching on television.

As for those Chinese fans in the stands, with the proximity of the scene, what they faced was no longer a dagger, but a heavy hammer, shattering their very insides.

And there were three such daggers and hammers in total!

Dozens of massive floodlights illuminated the football field, turning the night into day. After three whistle blasts, the Brazilian substitutes in yellow vests rushed onto the spotlighted stage, shouting ecstatically. Passing by the dejected, expressionless Chinese players, they joined their weary yet exuberant teammates in celebration.

Over twenty thousand Brazilian fans roared, the deafening wave of sound pouring from the stands of King Riyadh Stadium, sweeping through the arena, overwhelming everything within.

Those figures sprawled sitting, lying, or slumped on the turf, nearly all clad in the red jerseys of China’s national team.

The broadcast camera lingered on the jubilant Brazilians, then the cheering Brazilian fans, the silent Chinese supporters, and finally the downcast faces of the Chinese players.

“…The last Round of 16 match of this World Cup has ended. After ninety-eight minutes of fierce battle, we could not create a miracle, could not reach the quarterfinals—what would have been the best result in the history of Chinese football at the World Cup…”

Luo Jin, the famed commentator for CCTV, had shouted himself hoarse throughout the match, his voice now utterly rasping, making his words sound weak.

But, in fact, he was doing his utmost to deliver the commentary. Some syllables, no matter how hard he tried, simply would not come out.

He could only muster even more effort, a near voiceless roar:

“…But I believe all Chinese fans will still feel proud of this national team! Because in these ninety-eight minutes, they never stopped fighting! They battled right up to the final second! Lads, you should hold your heads high and bid farewell to this stage with pride!”

Yet the Chinese players on screen did not, as Luo Jin urged, truly walk off with heads held high, proud to leave this stage.

In truth, not even this gold-medal commentator’s words could console the players or comfort the fans at home.

No one, having just endured such an intense match, could accept defeat so calmly.

Especially when, in stoppage time, there had still been hope of dragging the match into extra time…

Suspended by two steel cables above the pitch, the “Flying Cat” camera roamed at low altitude, coldly displaying faces of joy and sorrow to a global audience.

It finally settled on a solitary figure, staring skyward.

This was one of the very few Chinese players still standing.

Hands on hips, a yellow captain’s armband on his left arm stark against the red jersey.

Equally striking were his name and number:

WANG.L

9

Seeing this, Luo Jin—who had just tried to sound more upbeat—fell silent, then, when he spoke again, his voice was choked:

“…This Chinese team’s performance at this World Cup has given us hope. Four years from now, at the next World Cup, this team may bring us even greater surprises… By then, China may usher in a new ‘Golden Generation.’ But…the man who links these two eras will already be thirty-nine years old by then…”

The broadcast camera spun on the axis of this back, trying to capture his face.

But as the lens began to rotate, so too did the man in frame, always keeping his back to the camera.

In the broadcast, the captain of China’s national team turned, walking alone toward the tunnel.

Neither the celebrating Brazilian players and coaches nor his own teammates, lost in disappointment and pain, noticed him.

Thus, solitary, he crossed half the pitch. Only at the tunnel entrance did a smartly dressed FIFA official step forward, hand extended, presumably for a handshake.

But seeing the other had no intention of reciprocating, he simply patted the official’s shoulder, sidestepped, and watched as the Chinese captain disappeared alone into the tunnel’s shadow.

The glaring lights, the tumult of emotions, the multilingual roars from the commentary booths… and the outstretched hands from the stands at the tunnel entrance—all were left behind.

On television, Luo Jin’s voice mingled with the chaos, growing muffled even across 7,000 kilometers and five hours:

“…Wang Lie, the only Asian footballer in history to stand atop the world, and this may well be his farewell on the World Cup stage…”

※※※

“I watched that moment again.

“I didn’t mean to rewatch it—I’m not so masochistic as to seek out pain. It’s just that, while mindlessly browsing my favorite streaming site, a video was suddenly recommended to me:

“‘[Wang Lie] Time, Don’t Rush Me—What’s Meant to Come, I Won’t Push.’

“Almost as if possessed, I clicked in. Even before I did, the thumbnail—showing that back heading for the tunnel—told me what the video would be. But I clicked anyway.

“Sure enough, the opening shot was that very scene after the last Round of 16 match at the 2034 World Cup in Saudi Arabia. Wang Lie walking alone into the tunnel, with players, coaches, reporters, and the distant stands fading into a blur behind him, as if it were all some indistinct dream.

“The camera was fixed at the tunnel’s end, directly ahead of him. Yet, from the moment Wang Lie turned toward the dressing room and vanished from the frame, not once did the broadcast reveal his full face.

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“Because from the moment he entered the tunnel, Wang Lie kept his head bowed.

“He was crying.

“Sobbing uncontrollably.

“It wasn’t my first time seeing Wang Lie cry after a defeat. Though he once stood atop the world as a footballing supergiant, Wang Lie never really had that ‘grandmaster’s composure’—he lacked the calm detachment people imagine comes from weathering countless highs and lows. Nor was he, as many believed, graced with the poise of someone who had seen the world from its highest peak.

“He always fought for every game, every possession, to the death.

“He always sprinted in wild celebration after every goal.

“He always raged, dissatisfied, and often cried after missed chances or lost matches.

“He was always like this—at fifteen, at twenty-five, at thirty-five, and now, nearly thirty-eight, he is still the same.

“…

“The video’s creator set this footage to audio from commentators around the world bidding Wang Lie a heartfelt farewell. They listed, as if reciting treasures, the ‘Chinese King’s’ World Cup stats, recalling his iconic moments, praising his diligence, discipline, professionalism… Even his much-criticized, nearly pathological obsession was turned into a virtue at this moment.

“For a Chinese footballer to earn the praise and recognition of so many world-class commentators—this alone should make every Chinese fan proud. Before Wang Lie, no one in China could even dream of such a scene.

“At this point, I realized—I had seen this video before. Sure enough, it wasn’t newly uploaded, but dated December 7, 2034, at 18:08—less than 24 hours after China’s elimination by Brazil.

“How did I know I’d seen this two-year-old video? Because as I listened to those commentators heap praise on Wang Lie, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over me:

“It felt like attending a funeral, listening to the master of ceremonies sum up the life of the departed, offering high praise… Especially as the creator turned the footage of Wang Lie disappearing into the tunnel black-and-white…

“Watching the monochrome, hearing only words like ‘great,’ ‘legendary,’ ‘G.O.A.T.,’ ‘national hero,’ ‘record machine’—with everyone speaking well of you, I almost thought you were dead.

“…

“Since the 2034 World Cup in Saudi Arabia, it feels as if everyone has been waiting for a ‘funeral.’ Especially in the past year, even many of Wang Lie’s diehard fans have shifted from arguing about whether he should retire to discussing when he will.

“In truth, such talk is not unreasonable. After all, by February 17 this year, Wang Lie will be thirty-eight.

“Modern sports science may have extended footballers’ careers by three or four years compared to thirty years ago, and it’s now common for players to peak after thirty. But even so, to expect a thirty-seven or thirty-eight-year-old to start every game as a top striker for an elite club in Europe’s top five leagues is asking the impossible.

“But Wang Lie has never announced when he will retire. Even when asked, he just dodges with ‘we’ll see when the time comes,’ even though his contract with United Sophe ends June 30 this year.

“He hasn’t, like other famous veterans, announced a move to a less competitive league for a lucrative semi-retirement, to squeeze out the last bit of his aura—despite many such suitors waving checkbooks.

“So the rumors and speculation about him in the media and online have only intensified. Every week, someone declares they’ve ‘unfollowed’ him. Some joke that Wang Lie is playing a new kind of ‘battle royale’ with his fans, seeing whether he can retire before all 410 million of his followers leave him.

“Of course, those making such jokes don’t really care if the quitters were ever true fans. But a portion of Wang Lie’s real fans are baffled and critical of his stubbornness. To them, his career is not just successful—it’s unparalleled, never to be repeated.

“As a Chinese player, he once stood atop world football, collecting every individual award a player could win: World Player of the Year, Ballon d’Or, Asian Footballer of the Year, Asia’s Best Overseas Player, Chinese Footballer of the Year, European Golden Boy, league top scorer, Champions League top scorer… Some more than once.

“In terms of team honors, he completed the grand slam: league titles, cup victories, a Champions League, Club World Cup, and Super Cup. On the national team, limited by China’s overall level, he missed out on Olympic and World Cup titles, but still led China to a historic Asian Cup win, breaking their curse of never winning a major tournament.

“He broke and set a string of records—still the world’s top active international goal scorer, top in national team history, five seasons with more than fifty goals (four consecutive), and the Champions League’s single-season goal record—fifteen—still his. He’s also the only player in history to score in five consecutive World Cups.

“Who would believe such a resume belonged to a Chinese footballer? Just reading this, you’d think you’d stumbled into a fantasy novel.

“But these are Wang Lie’s honors and achievements. He not only made history for China, but wrote a legend for all of Asia—indeed, for anyone of East Asian descent dreaming of glory in the world’s greatest sport. And considering he achieved all this after suffering two major left patellar tendon injuries at ages nineteen and twenty, you can drop the qualifiers ‘Chinese,’ ‘Asian,’ ‘East Asian’—he’s simply a legendary great, the football god’s gift to the world.

“That’s why Wang Lie, from a country with little footballing pedigree, could amass 400 million fans worldwide—his very existence inspires young football lovers everywhere. Countless dream of shocking the world like ‘China Wang,’ writing their own legend.

“Anyone would marvel: what an extraordinary life, what a legendary journey!

“So why not end the story at its most perfect, its most triumphant moment? Why not write ‘The End’ in the glorious afterglow, instead of dragging on into ignominy, a disappointing close?

“That’s the question many, even his staunchest fans, ask again and again. And it isn’t just nit-picking. The past year, especially 2036, has been a mess for the once Olympian Wang Lie:

“Physical decline; loss of form; losing his national team starting spot; clashes with the media; conflicts with club and coach; criticism and threats from the national team manager… Think about it—every bit of Wang Lie news, on and off the pitch, has been negative for over half a year.

“He’s mired in controversy and public opinion, struggling, embarrassed, ridiculous. Every fan who ever idolized him is heartbroken—their once invincible ‘god’ now looks like a dog, a stray, beaten by the world.

“His once-lauded ‘exceptional qualities’—the very ones that brought him glory—have suddenly become poison, tormenting him and his fans:

“Six years ago, the media praised Wang Lie’s tenacity and competitiveness as essential to a top player. Now, they call him obsessive, twisted, unable to accept defeat.

“Whereas once his armband arguments with referees were ‘leadership for the team,’ now they’re ‘petulant, childish complaints.’

“His fouls, shoves, and confrontations in desperate moments were once ‘indomitable fighting spirit,’ now seen as ‘impotent rage after losing composure.’

“Six years ago, diving in the box was ‘high football IQ for self-protection,’ now he’s dubbed the ‘shameless king of flopping.’

“Once, calmly converting penalties made him ‘a heart of steel,’ now it’s ‘do penalties even count as goals?’

“At one meter eighty-five, his leaping, explosiveness, and heading made him football’s king—now he’s mockingly called ‘the header overlord.’

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“Back when Wang Lie won the Golden Boot, set scoring records, bagged hat-tricks game after game, four-goal games… it was all seen as proof he was the team’s top champion. But starting last year, these same feats are labeled ‘selfish acts that hurt the team.’

“…

“So why are even his most devoted fans discussing his retirement, awaiting his curtain call? When other stars retire, fans are reluctant, but with Wang Lie, his fans seem almost impatient, eager for the end.

“Perhaps because they know, only when Wang Lie truly retires can they hear that avalanche of praise for him again, can they feel the world’s kindness toward this ‘god descending the mountain’ once more. Only then can his fans, and Wang Lie himself, breathe freely again…

“The dead deserve respect.

“Right? The dead must be respected. Once someone’s gone, you have to say something good, recall the highlights, the records, the immortal moments… You can’t still be harping on the times he shoved a reporter, kicked an opponent, flung his jersey, refused a handshake…

“In truth, I don’t know why Wang Lie, at this age, in this shape, stubbornly refuses to announce his retirement, or even a move away from Europe. Remember last year’s Asian Cup in Vietnam and Thailand? As captain, he led China but didn’t even reach the quarterfinals, out in the first knockout round…

“His tactical conflict with Chi Zhen only escalated, and after the Asian Cup exit, the media and internet erupted in debate about whether Wang Lie should cede the core role to Chi Zhen. Their fan bases fought in every online corner, making a mess of the national team’s atmosphere.

“But can we blame Chi Zhen? At the 2034 World Cup, Chi Zhen was still a bit green, but now he’s established at Premier League powerhouse Scotsmen, younger, faster, more explosive—why shouldn’t he replace Wang Lie as China’s tactical core?

“In the latest Final Twelve match, Wang Lie wasn’t even called up. Asked by reporters, national coach He Zhenyong’s answer was unimpeachable:

“‘Wang Lie currently lacks enough club minutes to stay in form. Unless that changes, it’s hard for the national team to call him up… China’s team is for the capable, no one is above the rules.’

“Can you imagine the greatest, most successful player in Chinese football history can’t even make the national squad now?

“It really does look like a sad ending.

“But I think I know why, almost against my will, I clicked that video.

“Because of that back, and that title: Time, Don’t Rush Me.

“Time, don’t rush me—what’s meant to come, I won’t push.

“Time, don’t rush me—what’s gone, I won’t chase. I just want to understand:

“A mortal body, with an indomitable heart that refuses to accept defeat—a heart that, in youth, helped him charge through encirclements, create miracles, drive him to scale the heights of world football.

“This man, from eighteen to thirty-eight, for twenty years of his career, has never abandoned that heart. Even as his body fails, that tireless heart has made him into a creaking machine, an awkward clown… but he still runs, and now he’s charging at an even stronger enemy.

“That enemy called ‘time.’

“Even if it’s like a gnat shaking a tree, even if he smashes himself to pieces, even if it means a tarnished legacy…

“Who can tell me—staking everything, risking one’s honor, fearlessly charging forward, striving for the impossible, thirsting for victory—what is there to mock in this?

“Isn’t sport about constantly challenging oneself and the strongest opponents, about the will to win? What are you all laughing at? Laughing at him for refusing to accept defeat? For not bowing to fate? For daring to challenge the lord of time? For refusing to tear out the extraordinary heart that drove him for twenty years, just to stop now? For not becoming the ‘ordinary man’ you hope he’ll be?

“But… what exactly is so funny about that?!

“His match isn’t over; he refuses to concede, to be substituted early—what’s so laughable about that?!

“He wants to win, he doesn’t want to lose—why should that be mocked?!

“…

“So why am I still drawn to this two-year-old ‘leftover’ video?

“Maybe because, even two years later, I still feel unwilling on behalf of that sobbing figure disappearing into shadow.

“Yes, time, don’t rush him.

“His curtain call has not yet come.”

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Note 1: In reality, World Cup qualifying has already moved to a 20-team final round, and the World Cup itself has expanded to 48 teams. But since the expanded format hasn’t started yet, and for the sake of my own habits and reader familiarity, the World Cup in this novel remains at 32 teams, so the qualifying round is the traditional Final Twelve, not twenty.

Note 2: The phrase is from the lyrics of Jonathan Lee’s “Song for Myself,” which is also the source of this chapter’s title.

PS:

Finally, I’m back! How long has it been? Anyway, it’s been a long time, but I’m back!

I hope everyone will add the new book to your collections, follow along, and share your thoughts.

Like my previous novel, this one is set in a parallel world—apart from football, everything else is just like the world we know. Returning readers should be used to it by now, and newcomers shouldn’t worry about finding real-world equivalents—just immerse yourselves in the story.

Since today is launch day and includes a prologue, there’s a double update—the second chapter will be up at 6 p.m.!

Tomorrow we’ll return to single daily updates.