91. Pity Always Bears Its Share of Resentment

Sure enough, the next morning, when Bai Haonan saw the belated arrival of the head coach, he became even more certain of his judgment: mediocre and incompetent, living off past credentials just to get by. Perhaps, as Qian Niu had said, in the twisted market of Chinese football, connections often outweigh actual ability.

Bai Haonan hadn’t expected that under Lao Chen’s twenty years of mentorship, he would develop such a keen professional insight—something he hadn’t realized even when leading the workers’ team in Rongdu, simply because there was no proper point of comparison then.

Of course, Bai Haonan’s excuse for not playing—a metatarsal injury—was the most effective. The coach, a man in his forties surnamed Zhong, only offered a polite “what a pity” before turning his attention to chatting with “Wang Jianguo” about the state of Rongdu’s football market. Bai Haonan, ever the cunning one, kept lowering himself, admitting he was just a medical system workers’ team coach, without even the most basic coaching certificate—just scraping by.

It was obvious that Coach Zhong, trying to size him up, relaxed and smiled, suggesting Bai Haonan could still get a certificate. He had connections; for a hundred thousand yuan, it could be arranged—whether Bai Haonan went or not was irrelevant.

Countless curses flickered through Bai Haonan’s mind. Just like seven or eight years ago, when someone told him that with eighty thousand yuan, he could get into the national training team for prestige. Damn it, football had been so polluted by these bastards!

But outwardly, he sighed and said he didn’t want to be involved anymore, just here to pass the time before going back to work, praising Brother Niu’s prowess all the while.

Coach Zhong truly didn’t care about this young man and barely glanced at his scruffy beard.

So Bai Haonan spent five days just drifting along at this training base, which lacked even a hint of femininity.

After such a long time, he was finally back sitting by the professional team’s training ground. The familiarity from twenty years filled him with a bittersweet feeling—warm yet irritating—occupying his mind so much that thoughts of women lessened, even though this was merely a lower-tier team pushing for promotion to the third division.

Most days, he sat under the shade of the greenhouse watching the team train or played with his dog, Ada, who hobbled along happily as they explored the half-finished construction site of this private university.

He confirmed that to save money, the base didn’t even have a chef; the team doctor doubled as the cook. Qian Niu’s Wuling Hongguang van was the transport vehicle for market ingredients, and the entire base was filled with men.

For Bai Haonan, this was unprecedented—not in terms of abstinence, but in how far he was from any woman.

So when Sunday came and the first team headed out to play an amateur match, Bai Haonan looked through the car window and thought every female was truly beautiful.

The young men, also confined to the base for nearly a week, howled in excitement, which made Bai Haonan smile wryly. His own longing for women surely stemmed from the years of closed-off training during puberty; at least back then, he could see Chen Sufen and other girls from the sports school.

Mainly, the training base was so remote that Bai Haonan finally understood why Qian Niu spent so much time glued to his phone, chatting online with that woman.

Even on the way to the match, Qian Niu kept his head down, engrossed in his phone. Bai Haonan nudged him a few times, telling him to pay attention to motivating the players, but he didn’t even look up.

“It’s just a filler game. You know how those amateur teams play, right? No point talking about it!”

Bai Haonan suddenly felt a communication gap with his longtime brother. Looking down, Ada immediately sensed it, turning to him with glossy, sparkling black eyes.

The pet nurse Xingxing had once said the most fascinating thing about Cocker Spaniels was how their faces seemed to smile, the corners of their mouths lifting like humans. At that moment, the dog truly expressed happiness. Bai Haonan smiled too, reaching out to check Ada’s leg muscles—still a bit atrophied after the recent break. Ada eagerly licked his arm in affection.

Bai Haonan’s mood lifted completely. He turned to Qian Niu and said, “Stop whining. Just set it up—either you go or I do. We’ll talk about the future later. Trust me!”

Nearby young players, overhearing, laughed and gathered around “Brother Jianguo” to discuss picking up girls.

From “Brother Haonan” to “Brother Jianguo,” Bai Haonan remained that familiar guy everyone could chat with easily. Talking about women was an eternal topic among men, and he wielded considerable influence in such discussions. Just this alone earned him the young players’ admiration. Especially since he respected Qian Niu’s authority as assistant coach and didn’t want Coach Zhong to think he was trying to usurp power, he was careful to keep it professional—and slipped in a bit of playful bravado: “Damn, I can only say the girls in Rongdu are the best I’ve seen. Jiangzhou doesn’t even come close…”

Damn, even the driver couldn’t help but turn his head and listen attentively while waiting at traffic lights.

Qian Niu just chuckled without looking up. It was Bai Haonan who reminded him when they arrived.

At that moment, Bai Haonan realized something: no matter how unprofessional he might be now, he had at least played in high-level leagues for over a decade, and with Lao Chen constantly reminding him, he wasn’t that bad. His baseline was simply higher. But Qian Niu had been on the decline ever since his injury, dropped from the youth team, never making it to a professional club—his ceiling was never very high.

Was he himself also on the decline?

But soon, Bai Haonan comforted himself as he always did: every retired player was like this—once off the pitch, they were nobody.

So he happily shifted his attention to the girls around the field.

Yet he was a little disappointed. The lively girls sitting around the pitch were mostly girlfriends of players from other teams. Bai Haonan never coveted other men’s women; he always preferred single girls who chose him willingly, though he never knew if they concealed anything. After mentally rating them all for a bit of visual pleasure, he focused back on the game.

Just as Qian Niu had said, the opponents were clearly amateurs. Some may have had a semblance of experience in sports work teams, but overall, they probably couldn’t even beat the First Affiliated Hospital team. Against this quasi-professional squad vying for the third division, they were completely outclassed. At the drop-off point, a fake team leader was handing out jerseys. Bai Haonan recognized the style: they were sponsored by some automotive parts manufacturer, and players weren’t even allowed to wear professional cleats—no metal spikes—playing as if to maintain an amateur appearance because various officials were watching from the stands.

Four so-called corporate teams played matches, alternating morning and afternoon, with a five-thousand-yuan prize plus a few meals and jerseys. This was just filler, lacking even the value of training through competition.

Bai Haonan lost interest after ten minutes. The whole team wasn’t playing at full intensity, whether due to lack of enthusiasm or to avoid embarrassing the opponents.

It was all a performance.

Having lost his professional status for match-fixing, Bai Haonan felt a wave of nausea and didn’t want to watch anymore.

As he stood up at the sideline, ready to walk around the field, he suddenly saw Ada dragging a pair of bandaged broken legs, leaning against a carefully groomed poodle, wagging.

Damn!

Like master, like servant.

Suddenly, Bai Haonan understood why that bastard had been surrounded and beaten by wild dogs in the garbage dump.

Would he end up like that too?