Six hours earlier

6:35 PM

If one were to capture the scene at noon through a television drama's lens, the shot could now slowly pull back, broadening the scope, and it would become evident that these three or four stories were but the foot of a colossal structure. Only from a soaring bird’s-eye view would the grandeur of the stadium be revealed—a proper arena with room for thirty to forty thousand souls, with this corner merely walled off as an isolated nook.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the stadium, the plaza was already alive with drums and gongs. Even though the freshly painted banners announced that tonight’s home game would begin at seven, it was only around three o’clock, and yet the place was already awash with a surging sea of blue jerseys. Friends called out to one another, families arrived in tow, and without exception, all wore shirts emblazoned with “Bluewind Real Estate” across the chest. Some of the younger fans queued at bustling stalls around the square to have blue paint smeared in stripes across their cheeks—two or three lines for five yuan apiece, a daylight robbery!

But business was booming regardless!

Indeed, today was a top-tier domestic football league match day. As the only remaining Super League club in southwest China, the Jiangzhou Bluewind team had given its fans immense pride. Even if, year after year, the club’s sole ambition was to avoid relegation, the supporters had braved wind and rain in steadfast loyalty, following the team through promotions and demotions for over a decade.

On days like these, their home attendance reliably started at thirty thousand—a figure that made every other team in the country envious.

If one examined the enormous player banners draped along the stadium’s exterior, floor by floor, they would find one now faded to a weathered white by sun and rain—a half-length portrait of Bai Haonan. In the photograph, he was not yet twenty, sporting a recklessly ostentatious shock of rooster-yellow hair.

Now, at twenty-eight, his hairstyle was still as fashionable as any nightclub gigolo’s, though it had evolved to suit the current tastes of the slightly disreputable—less the crude style of a rural-urban fringe dweller.

With over an hour before kickoff, Bai Haonan, dressed in the same gray sweatpants and black pullover, leaned nonchalantly against the locker room doorframe, his right eye swollen to the size of a pigeon egg. The team’s medic, old Qin, clad in a white coat, dabbed ointment on him, muttering in a low voice, “Did you use protection? You’re always out there chasing girls and showing off—don’t bring some disease back to the team!”

That was the way with sports teams; coarse language flew thick and fast, as if it matched the testosterone-charged air.

Bai Haonan was unfazed. “Hell, I’ve been drifting around for years—I know how to handle myself. It’s just some drinking and a casual hookup. I don’t smoke, I don’t take drugs, I don’t eat anything dodgy, and of course I’m careful about birth control...”

The medic was no more decorous: “Heh, does Xiaofen do birth control too?”

Bai Haonan sneered, “Hell no! What business is that of hers...”

He hadn’t finished when, inside the locker room, Coach Chen—who had been sketching out today’s tactics on a whiteboard—hurled the eraser at him. “Bai Haonan! Shut up! Out!”

The blue eraser struck the medic’s balding crown, making old Qin yelp and turn to the coach, while the players lounging by the wall, changing into their kits, burst out laughing. Coach Chen, now convinced the pre-match atmosphere was ruined, stomped furiously toward the door. Sensing trouble, Bai Haonan abandoned the medic and bolted.

A loud bang signaled the locker room door slamming shut, with Coach Chen’s exasperated shouts still audible within.

Outside, staff, assistant coaches, and youth players all seemed accustomed to Bai Haonan’s antics, cheerfully calling out, “Brother Nan! Brother Nan!”

Bai Haonan basked in their admiration, bantering with young players and ball boys, kicking the ball around with them. It seemed that, aside from the coach’s exasperated hopes for him, nearly everyone enjoyed chatting with this tall, handsome, and approachable veteran pro.

Twenty-eight was, after all, the golden age for a footballer.

Taking the bottled water handed to him, Bai Haonan habitually squeezed the base to check the seal before unscrewing it and drinking a few sips. He leaned under the canopy at the players’ tunnel, peering through a gap at the swelling crowd of enthusiastic fans now pouring in. Some bands had already begun playing to build the atmosphere, and a silly grin crept onto his face.

Noticing someone nearby with a phone, he considered borrowing it to make a call, but just then the visiting team’s players began to emerge from their locker room. The click of their studded boots on the cement floor made Bai Haonan step aside, and many recognized him. “Old Nan! Long time no see! Did you look at something you shouldn’t have with that eye?”

“Old Nan, you’re on the roster, aren’t you? Why so relaxed?”

“Old Nan, up to your old tricks again?”

Though there were no handshakes or hugs, Bai Haonan grinned and nodded at each in turn. “Zhang, hotpot tonight? My treat!”

“Bastard! You still owe me a meal...”

“Come on, when have I ever played dirty? Always the model of sportsmanship! Have you ever seen me get a red card?”

With a laugh, the dozen visiting players bounded onto the pitch, their coaches following, nodding at Bai Haonan but without the same camaraderie.

Bai Haonan leaned at the tunnel’s edge, arms crossed, watching not only the players’ warm-up but also the coaches.

Soon the Bluewind team emerged, greeting him warmly. “Brother Nan, you really got under Coach Chen’s skin this time!”

Bai Haonan looked innocent: “What did I do? He’s just venting his own frustrations on me. Off you go—Number 13, you’re a bit too hyped today, keep it together.” As he spoke, he playfully slapped his teammates’ backsides, making them yelp and leap away, joking that who knew what he’d touched yesterday and what he might pass along.

Coach Chen, seeing this mischievous scene, stormed over with a stern face, but Bai Haonan, reacting as quickly as his teammates scattering like mice, turned, bowed obsequiously, and whispered to the coach, “Boss, Number 13 is really amped, in good spirits. Number 4 is limping a bit, still not over that thigh strain. And Number 6 seems distracted...”

Coach Chen listened helplessly, his gaze following Bai Haonan’s sly face as he relayed this intelligence, sweeping across the visiting team’s players. “What about Number 7? Their foreign import—they just signed him.”

Bai Haonan shook his head: “No idea, we’ll have to see on the pitch.”

Coach Chen’s eyes lingered on the opposition before finally settling on Bai Haonan, his tone less harsh now. “Bai Haonan, if you had an ounce of discipline and put in the work, with your talent you could be a star—maybe even make the national team. Look at Feng Jinming, Zhang Cunyoung, your classmates...”

Bai Haonan had the nerve to clutch his head in mock agony. “Master! Your apprentice was wrong... Please, no more lectures!” He even lifted one leg in a Monkey King pose, then staggered off like a drunken boxer.

Coach Chen could only sigh long and hard, joining his assistant coach at the pitchside bench to watch the players warm up.

A professional footballer...

To dare spend the night out before a match day and only report back hours before kickoff—such behavior would be unthinkable in most strictly managed teams!

Only the most famous stars might enjoy such privileges.

And to joke and dodge the head coach, who wielded absolute authority over the squad?

On top of that, to be listed as a substitute in the matchday squad but skip the warm-up, when in any other team the substitutes would at least act as sparring partners for the starters or help the assistants?

He was actually off borrowing someone’s phone to kill time!

The security guard who lent him his phone was left in awe. “Brother Nan, you’re something else!”

Bai Haonan smiled, eyes lowering into a silent, scornful sneer.

You know nothing, damn it.