Lin Wanxing thought that the strength of their opponents wouldn’t have too much impact on the students. After all, these kids always seemed boisterous and fearless.

But when she arrived at the old sports field after work, she was shocked.

The field was empty.

Previously, the students would always skip class early to come to the field, but now none of them were in sight.

Lin Wanxing even fell into inexplicable confusion, wondering if the field had been booked for some competition, or if there was some other reason why none of the students were there.

She looked around and saw only Wang Fa still sitting in the stands, as always.

Seeing the coach, Lin Wanxing finally felt somewhat reassured. If everyone had failed to show up, it must have been a collective decision.

Wang Fa had his baseball cap pulled low, his legs propped up on the seats in front of him as usual, looking very calm.

“They didn’t come today?” Lin Wanxing sat down beside him and asked, immediately feeling stupid. After all, she should know her students better than Wang Fa did.

“No, I haven’t seen them,” Wang Fa said.

Lin Wanxing found it strange and had some suspicions.

She took out her phone, thought for a moment, and called Qin Ao.

After two or three rings, the call was answered.

Before she could speak, Qin Ao spoke first — “Teacher, where are you?”

“I’m at the field. Where are you all?”

“You’re at the field? We’re waiting for you in the classroom. Come over quickly.” Qin Ao said casually.

He was about to hang up when Lin Wanxing paused, suddenly realizing that the classroom they mentioned must be her grandparents’ tutoring center.

She hurriedly asked, “Wait, aren’t you coming to train?”

“Not playing anymore. What’s the point? You think we can beat Lüjing or something?” Qin Ao became irritated just mentioning it. “I tell you, it’s rigged, deliberately pairing us together to give Lüjing a free pass.”

“Then what are you doing in the classroom…”

“Of course, we’re studying hard for a bright future!” Qin Ao said. “Preparing for college, right? Playing football won’t put food on the table.”

Lin Wanxing found it incredible, suspecting her ears were deceiving her. She couldn’t understand how these children could so easily abandon something they had been determined to pursue just yesterday.

She felt some anger building inside, but still thought for a moment before asking, “Where’s Fu Xinshu?”

“He’s here.” As Qin Ao spoke, there was a rustling sound from the other end as the phone was passed over.

“Hello?” Lin Wanxing called out softly.

After a while, Fu Xinshu’s voice came through — “Teacher Lin.”

The boy’s voice was soft and somewhat apologetic, immediately dispersing much of Lin Wanxing’s anger.

She asked gently, “Fu Xinshu, what did you all decide? You’re not coming to train?”

“Yes, Teacher Lin, we… won’t be training anymore.” Fu Xinshu spoke slowly. There seemed to be a crowd on the other end of the phone; she could almost imagine the football team kids crowding around Fu Xinshu.

“Why?” Lin Wanxing asked. “Just because you can’t beat Lüjing International?”

“Teacher, Lüjing International is really strong. We can’t possibly beat them,” Fu Xinshu said frankly.

He spoke slowly, sounding sad but certain. This was probably the result of everyone’s noisy discussion together.

“I know, but winning or losing isn’t important,” Lin Wanxing began, but Fu Xinshu interrupted her.

“Teacher Lin, we know you have school obligations. We’ll still play the weekend match, but training now is meaningless. Better to use the time to study properly.”

“Study properly”—words that would move almost any parent or teacher. But in Lin Wanxing’s ears, Fu Xinshu’s words left a bad taste.

She truly didn’t understand football.

Her knowledge of Lüjing International was limited to what she had found in the Baidu Encyclopedia. She didn’t know what an insurmountable mountain it represented in the students’ minds.

But in her view, neither choosing nor giving up should be done so lightly.

Therefore, the anger that had subsided in her heart flared up again — “I don’t know why you’re thinking like this now. I only know that a few days ago, you told me you wanted everyone to play football together. And you should understand me by now—I’ve never cared about school assignments and such.”

“Teacher, I know you care about us. You sincerely want what’s best for us. And that person who asked us to come learn from you also cares about us. But when you can’t win, you just can’t win. People need to face reality,” Fu Xinshu said decisively before hanging up.

The rapid beeping after the call disconnected was followed by a long silence.

Lin Wanxing held her phone as the wind blew across the field, leaving her feeling somewhat lost.

From a mature perspective, when facing an insurmountable mountain, giving up is a very rational choice. If you can’t climb, you can’t climb—better to change course early.

After all, in China, playing football is never as practical as studying hard for college.

Moreover, her principle had always been “freedom”—supporting whatever the students wanted to do.

She put down her phone and looked toward the back of the field.

From where she was standing, she could barely see a corner of 17 Wutong Road.

Lin Wanxing felt she should stand up and go to the classroom to teach the students.

But in the sunset, with the city’s lights blurring, she suddenly didn’t want to move at all.

Wang Fa still sat by the field, the young man half-closing his eyes as if sleeping in the evening breeze.

“You must have encountered many players who quit halfway before, right?” Lin Wanxing looked at his handsome, peaceful profile and asked. “Feeling they can’t win, so simply not playing anymore—that’s a reasonable excuse, isn’t it?”

“Quite reasonable,” Wang Fa replied with unusual calmness. “Much more reasonable than ‘Coach, football gives me constipation so I’m not coming anymore,’ wouldn’t you say?”

Wang Fa imitated the accent of a foreign child speaking Chinese, sounding like something he had genuinely experienced.

Lin Wanxing wasn’t amused, and Wang Fa didn’t laugh either.

“Did you try to persuade that constipated player?” Lin Wanxing paused, tentatively asking, “Or rather, in your coaching career, have you ever tried to persuade the player you thought was most regrettable for wanting to quit, to continue playing football?”

As the sunset gradually disappeared, large areas of gray shadowed the stands.

Shadows fell on Wang Fa’s eyelids. The young man suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze clear and stern as he stared at her and asked, “Have you ever thought about why people play football?”

In Lin Wanxing’s memory, this was the first time Wang Fa had asked her this question. At that time, she was still immersed in complex, confused emotions and hadn’t realized why Wang Fa would ask this.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

The next moment, Wang Fa lowered his eyes. He adjusted his cap as if preparing to continue napping in the stands. If Lin Wanxing hadn’t caught the fleeting disappointment in Wang Fa’s eyes, she might have thought this was just Wang Fa’s way of avoiding answering her question directly.

Everyone has troubles they temporarily can’t solve.

As Wang Fa displayed an attitude of refusing to communicate, Lin Wanxing shifted her gaze from his cap brim, rested her chin on her hand, and looked at the vast field before her.

In front was a long rubber track, very standard, 400 meters per lap. She remembered the last time she had completed the full course was during her college physical test. Apart from that, she realized she had never known what it felt like to run through an entire football match.

Once the thought took root, it couldn’t be suppressed.

Lin Wanxing simply stood up from the stands. She took off her cardigan and tossed it onto the empty seat beside Wang Fa — “Help me watch my things.”

Wang Fa glanced at her.

Lin Wanxing jumped down the stand steps and called back, “Call me after 90 minutes!”

Her shoe soles touched the rubber track.

Lin Wanxing stretched lazily, then began running forward.

At first, she only felt the pleasant evening breeze and the soft, springy sensation of the rubber track beneath her feet. She still had time to think.

She thought about many things—what football meant, why the students played it, whether they truly wanted to give up, and what she should do.

Before finishing the first lap, she already felt heaviness in her calves.

She used Wang Fa’s position as a marker and began her second lap.

This time, she slowed her pace.

When you involuntarily adjust yourself to continue running, you focus your thoughts on your body.

Lin Wanxing only felt her legs getting heavier, so she continued thinking about issues concerning her students to divert her attention.

Third lap.

Sore calves, aching ankles—normal muscle reactions gradually spread from her legs throughout her body. She knew she should slow down even more. She adjusted her breathing but could no longer control herself.

In the face of powerful physiological responses, those little psychological tricks were no longer effective.

Fifth lap.

Lin Wanxing knew running should be tiring; she had participated in 800-meter tests before. She had also sat in the stands watching students run almost an entire evening at Wang Fa’s request. But when she experienced it herself, she hadn’t expected it to be this exhausting.

Now she was dizzy, with a metallic taste rising in her throat. Lin Wanxing felt many parts of her body no longer belonged to her. She wanted to stop but felt she shouldn’t. She wanted to ask Wang Fa something, but all her actions had become mechanical.

At one point, when she reached the southwest corner of the track, she suddenly saw a corner of 17 Wutong Road.

The light from Yuan Yuan Tutoring Center’s floor became her new beacon.

Seventh lap.

Having completed six laps meant she had run two thousand meters. Lin Wanxing began trying to use mathematics to calculate roughly how long she had been running based on her pace and speed, but her mind had turned to complete mush—blank, with labored breathing. She knew her current thinking was a sign of mental confusion.

Lin Wanxing saw stars, almost feeling like she could see her students playing on the field.

Clear voices seemed to reach her ears, but after running a few more steps, she realized those people weren’t her students.

Many thoughts jumbled together like a ball of yarn scratched by a cat. She even felt as if the yarn was wrapped around her own body, getting tighter and heavier.

Lin Wanxing’s only thought was: so tired, really so tired.

Yes, if running was already this exhausting, wouldn’t playing football be even more so? Why play football at all?

Time passed unknowingly, coordinates and space endlessly stretched.

The beacon had lost its effect. The yarn wrapped around her seemed to get tighter, filling her entire chest cavity. It slowly covered her eyes, completely enveloping her.

Until, at some point, Lin Wanxing’s knees gave way and her vision went black. In an absurd yet infinitely relieving manner, she fell onto the track. She knew she could no longer persist and found great release in that realization.

The release isn’t so bad, is it?