Sunday afternoon, inside Jingxin Studio.
Lin Wansheng watched as the last child was led away by his mother, hand in hand, looking back every few steps. Only then did he finally let out a breath of relief.
He turned around and saw Teacher Li wearing her reading glasses, meticulously correcting the children’s tracing assignments.
After hesitating for a moment, he still walked over.
“Auntie Li.”
Teacher Li raised her head from the workbook and adjusted her glasses. “What is it? You’ve seemed distracted all day.”
“It’s nothing.” Lin Wansheng scratched his head, a hint of apology on his face. “I just came to let you know that my afternoon part-time work… might have to stop for now.”
Teacher Li’s brows immediately furrowed. She set down the red pen in her hand and looked him over. “What? You don’t want to do it anymore? Is it because Auntie doesn’t pay enough, or did you find a better part-time job somewhere else?”
“There’s nothing I can do, Auntie Li.” Lin Wansheng gave a wry smile. “Starting next week, our team’s hell week officially begins.”
He picked up the mop from the corner and helped clean the ink stains on the floor as he explained, “Although according to high school regulations, our weekly training time can’t exceed twenty hours.”
“But no matter where you are, there are always policies from above and countermeasures from below.”
“Starting next week, we have to train every day from one o’clock in the afternoon, when it’s hottest, all the way until dark.”
“As long as they give us a few more breaks in between, or put those two hours of conditioning training in the gym…”
“Then it can be counted as individual training.”
“And those don’t have to be included in the twenty hours per week.”
“So, really, there’s nothing I can do.”
When he said those words, Lin Wansheng actually felt a little reluctant.
To be honest, he really liked staying here. The clamor out on the football field and the cramped space at home both made him feel irritable.
Only in this small world of Jingxin Studio, suffused with the scent of ink, could his heart truly settle down.
As Teacher Li listened, the expression on her face gradually shifted from displeasure to helplessness and heartache.
After a moment of silence, she finally only sighed.
“All right, I understand.” She waved her hand. “It’s your own body, so take care of it. Don’t get yourself injured.”
“I know. Thank you, Auntie Li.” A warm current surged through Lin Wansheng’s heart.
Just then, footsteps sounded from the stairs. Li Shuyao came down carrying a plate of cut fruit.
“Mom, Wansheng, have some fruit.” She placed the fruit plate on the table, but her gaze drifted unconsciously toward Lin Wansheng.
When Lin Wansheng saw the mango on the plate, his eyes lit up, and he was just about to take a piece.
Teacher Li suddenly said, “Shuyao, why did you cut mangoes? Aren’t you allergic as soon as you touch them?”
Li Shuyao’s cheeks flushed at once. She lowered her head, trying to cover it up with a casual tone.
“Just because I’m allergic, it doesn’t mean you have to stop eating them too, Mom.”
“Is that so?” Teacher Li looked at her suspiciously.
“I remember last time, when I asked you to peel a mango for me, you said your hands felt itchy just from touching the flesh.”
“Aiya!” Li Shuyao’s thoughts had been exposed, and in her anxiety and embarrassment, she couldn’t help lightly stomping her foot.
“I… I wore gloves when I cut them this time!”
…
…
…
A sports reporter from the local TV station NY1 and his cameraman were preparing to conduct pregame interviews with the team’s head coach and several star players.
A few folding chairs had been casually set up on the sideline. Behind them were a lush green field and the faint outline of the city skyline in the distance.
“Coach, hello, I’m Jack, a sports reporter from NY1.” A reporter in a polo shirt smiled and extended his hand to Bob.
Bob shook his hand, a smile on his face. “Welcome to East River High, Jack.”
“This is your second year as head coach,” Jack said, getting straight to the point. His first question carried a hint of sharpness.
“And right now, you have one of the top quarterbacks in all of New York State. How does that feel?”
Bob looked back at Mark, who was sitting ramrod straight beside him, and subconsciously smiled.
“Mark is an outstanding player. He improves every single day. It’s my honor to coach him. I am proud of him.”
Jack turned his gaze to Mark and asked, “Mark, you’ve worked with Coach Bob for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Mark answered politely. “Coach Bob has been our coach since I was a freshman on the freshman team.”
“Then, Coach Bob,” Jack said, turning the microphone back toward the coach, his question becoming even more direct.
“The team’s record last year wasn’t ideal. This year, while you’ve remained as head coach, it also happens to be the strongest and final year of Mark’s high school career. Do you think your staying on and Mark entering his prime is a coincidence?”
This question was like a scalpel, precisely cutting open the scar beneath the team’s calm surface.
The smile on Bob’s face stiffened slightly, but he quickly adjusted, still looking at the camera as he forced out a faint smile.
“The board believes we were still in a period of adjustment last year.”
“But in any case, to be able to spend the final year of his high school career alongside an athlete as talented and determined as Mark—I feel very fortunate.”
Jack nodded, as if he was not surprised by this official answer. He then turned the microphone toward Mark.
“Mark, I checked the data. Last season, your pass completion rate was as high as seventy-five percent. Have you ever thought about pursuing a professional career in the future?”
“Of course.” Mark answered without the slightest hesitation.
At that moment, on the opposite sideline of the field.
A man who looked to be in his fifties, wearing a polo shirt printed with the crimson logo of the University of Alabama, was chatting with Mark’s parents with a broad smile on his face.
His name was Erwin Sack, the Crimson Tide’s chief scout for the East Coast region.
“Mr. Brown, Mrs. Brown,” he said, pointing to Mark, who was training in the distance, his tone filled with undisguised admiration, “you have raised an extraordinary son.”
“We would like to formally invite the two of you to fly to our home field on the second Saturday after school starts and experience it for yourselves.” Sack did not speak quickly.
“There are some things I may not be able to describe perfectly with words. I want you to personally experience the atmosphere of our university.”
“Especially our unparalleled football atmosphere.”
Mark’s father, Mr. Brown, was a slightly plump, kind-looking middle-aged man.
When he heard this, his face bloomed with delight, and he gave Sack’s arm a hearty pat.
Laughing loudly, he said, “Sounds terrific!”
The scout was clearly very satisfied with Mr. Brown’s straightforward response.
“Our university very much looks forward to your visit. A full scholarship certainly won’t be any problem. In fact, we hope to settle this matter as soon as possible.”
Mark’s mother, Mrs. Brown, however, did not show much joy on her face.
She maintained a calm, assessing manner the entire time and asked the scout seriously:
“Mr. Sack, please, as a professional, tell us the truth.”
“How good is he, my son?”
The smile on Sack’s face faded somewhat.
“Mrs. Brown,” he said slowly.
“I have been a scout for the University of Alabama for twenty-five years. I can’t say Mark is the best high school quarterback I’ve ever seen, because that would be irresponsible flattery.”
He paused, then changed tack, his tone filled with powerful confidence.
“But what I can say is this: over the past twenty-five years, every quarterback I personally selected who ultimately entered our school…”
“In the end, every one of them made it into the NFL.”