23. Is it really just a game?

So that afternoon, Joanna sat on the bleachers by the football field at the Medical University. It was clear that the university, with its several affiliated hospitals, was wealthy; the field was made of high-quality artificial turf, and the stands around the track were fitted with colorful fiberglass seats. Especially on the side of the grandstand, the whole area was shaded by a slanted canopy, stylish and beautifully designed. Joanna, sitting among the vibrant seats, was like an embellishment to the scenery—still in her monochrome knee-length dress, the school style with a slightly more modest neckline, yet still revealing a hint of cleavage. She laughed and chatted with a few girlfriends, crossing her legs; her presence lingered in the eyes of all, even though the chair backs in front concealed her legs, the allure of her subtle, elusive charm was irresistible.

The freshman and sophomore girls, with their innocence, simply couldn’t compare to this mature senior. By now, everyone knew that Joanna was the girlfriend of the tall, bespectacled football star—no wonder she came to this not-so-high-level university stadium every day. Only a campus beauty of such striking elegance could match a man as handsome, tall, and mysterious as him. Indeed, it seemed Joanna was the only one who could stand beside Bai Haonan, for since he started playing here, after ten days or so, the number of girls crowding the stands to watch had grown, even though most barely understood football.

Many fans say the most interesting part of going to a football match isn’t the game itself, but the warm-up beforehand. On the field, real clashes and frantic plays lead to mistakes and chaos, which can’t compare to the display of skill and effortless grace during warm-ups, when every player shows off, moving as if strolling leisurely, with the stars’ poise captivating the crowd. Especially those who don’t understand formations, technique, teamwork, or the subtleties of momentum—the so-called fake fans love the warm-ups best.

For Bai Haonan, games at this level were nothing more than entertainment, a warm-up in themselves. He usually arrived early, jogging to warm up, then did several sets of professional stretching exercises in the shade below the grandstand, adding some strength training. Each session, he spent an hour compensating for the lack of intense gym workouts, so by the time the game started, his physical condition far outstripped the students who showed up and played immediately. As a result, about ten people now actively followed his lead, arriving early for warm-ups, and Bai Haonan was happy to coach them—the first distinction between professional and amateur is here.

Whenever Bai Haonan arrived at the field, a group of guys would gather around him, giving him the aura of a street boss, almost like an entourage. As a classic line from a Stephen Chow movie says, beauties are like flowers, needing green leaves to set them off; men too. After seeing so many beanpole boys on campus, the few tall, strong ones were usually covered in flab, but Bai Haonan was like a walking dose of hormones, a human aphrodisiac.

He especially liked to roll up his sleeves to his shoulders, turning his shirt into a tank top, and when focused on the game, he’d hike up his shorts to cool off, exposing his thick, frog-like thighs. He was alluring. With a lazy drawl, he coached the students, while casually kicking the ball thirty meters high, letting it drop straight down, cushioning it lightly with his instep so the ball seemed glued to his foot, not bouncing at all. Then he’d roll it from his toes to his heel, flicking it with a tap so it leapt onto his shoulder, where he’d bounce it to the top of his head, his gaze locked in concentration, juggling it a few times. As it dropped, he’d intercept it with his thigh, making the ball bounce there, drawing cheers from all around.

This was basic skill for professionals; even ten-year-old players at sports schools could juggle hundreds or thousands of times, using all seven parts of their bodies. It's easy to show off when no one’s defending, but in real matches, it’s a different story. Vision, awareness, and talent can’t be replaced by basic drills, and many senior players even neglect these fundamentals.

But outsiders come for the spectacle. Bai Haonan, with his cropped, rugged hair, stripped of flashy outfits, was in his most authentic state. His finely shaped, slightly dark beard and thick-framed glasses gave him a rough yet inexplicably refined air—a blend of sunshine, health, world-weariness, and a hint of roguish charm, irresistible to young women.

So the usually empty stands were now often filled with small clusters of students, mostly girls, while most boys stood at the edge to watch the game. Bai Haonan, at heart, was showy, or perhaps simply used to being observed—even when on the run, these students had no ties to any bookies, so what was there to fear? The thrill was in being watched. It was a personal instinct; even professional players find it dull to play in empty stadiums. Now, the students playing at the Medical University were livelier, and although the field could accommodate three groups, only one match was held at a time—no one wanted to embarrass themselves in front of an indifferent audience. So being on the field felt like an honor, especially with so many girls watching—what could be better?

Though the boys knew most of the girls came for Bai Haonan, peacocking among the sexes is instinctive. Now that everyone knew who his girlfriend was, they were delighted. Joanna proved her status when, as the sun dipped, she gracefully came to the sideline to hand Bai Haonan a bottle of water and a small towel, drawing envious looks and exaggerated screams from both girls and boys.

Perhaps only those close enough could hear Joanna tease, “Enjoying yourself? I have to admit, I feel a bit smug. You and your charming facade have made me the enemy of all the girls—I’ve never experienced this before!”

Bai Haonan gulped down the water, scoffing, “Childish! That girl sitting two seats away from you isn’t bad. Want to invite her to dinner later?”

Joanna smiled and cursed him, “Are you trying to mess with me? I’m not your matchmaker!”

Bai Haonan replied confidently, “Then I’ll go myself. Tonight, I guarantee I’ll take her to bed!”

She was stunned by his shamelessness and professional prowess, unable to doubt him. After a moment’s struggle, she decisively wrapped her arm around his neck to wipe his sweat: “Don’t! That would be humiliating for me. If you keep setting me up like this, I’ll have to call Xiaofen to deal with you…” To others, her actions looked sweet, as if she were flirting with her boyfriend.

Bai Haonan had never experienced such public displays of affection, and found it novel: “Just teasing. You wouldn’t actually play along, would you?”

Joanna tiptoed and kissed his chin tenderly: “Just playing—feels pretty good. Later, we’ll have dinner, and you’ll take me to work?”

He nodded, “Mm, I’ll see if I can work too…”

Joanna, a bit disgusted, let go: “You're still scheming about that?” Bai Haonan nodded simply and returned to the field.

Joanna, proud under the gaze of all, returned to the stands. She had to admit she was vain too, drawn to standing in the spotlight. In truth, Bai Haonan was the one who had stood on the stage of public admiration, a true strongman. Perhaps, as she watched him gesturing below, she suddenly realized this: the shamelessness and slyness had masked his true strength and past, but when he stood where he belonged, his brilliance was undeniable. She had lost another round, and besides realizing she had brought it upon herself, she now looked up to him. The distinction between gold and clay is subjective; Joanna couldn't help but ponder this, since she didn’t understand football anyway.

That evening, as dusk fell and they ate, Joanna brought up the topic with Bai Haonan, unaware that her psychological status between them had completely flipped, unrelated to intimacy. Bai Haonan had no sense of psychological status; he beckoned the waiter earnestly, pointing at his beer: “Do you believe I can eat this bottle?”

The waiter was baffled: “I don’t believe it!”

Bai Haonan replied calmly, “Then hurry up and open it for me.”

The waiter, finally understanding, quickly complied.

Joanna laughed so hard she nearly collapsed, attracting many curious glances.

Brother Nan's flirting skills were truly impressive.