92. Not every Ashiya shines with dazzling brilliance.

All Bai Haonan could do was ignore Ada’s excitement, grab the damn dog, and run—almost dragging the poodle along!

Judging by the way the other party was dressed, it was clearly the female owner. Having chased after so many women, Bai Haonan had no intention of using such tactics to flirt. Besides, he had already scanned the sparse stands of this standard stadium, filled mostly with players’ families. If the owner made a scene, Bai Haonan didn’t want to get mobbed, nor did he want to be stuck paying compensation.

So, he decided to run quickly, even giving the reluctant poodle a kick.

Only after getting outside did he breathe a heavy sigh of relief and look down to scold Ada, “I’m trying to keep it together, what are you doing?”

Despite its crippled leg, Ada wore a sly grin, clearly savoring its little victory. Bai Haonan could see the cheeky glint in its eyes.

What kind of worthless mutt had he picked up?

Unable to resist, Bai Haonan rubbed Ada’s long ears hard in a show of understanding, then tossed it onto the ground and left it be. But Ada immediately propped itself up on its front legs and crawled back to rub against his foot, trying to charm him.

Suppressing a laugh, Bai Haonan looked around and noticed several smaller fields outside bustling with heated games. Unlike the main stadium, these smaller fields were clearly for seven- or eight-a-side matches. Bai Haonan rarely played these formats but approached with interest. He saw the matches were fiercely competitive, real battles with raw intensity. Judging by the local brand advertisements on the sidelines, it must be some amateur football cup, probably smaller in scale than the medical system’s tournament.

Bai Haonan was cunning—more accurately, he had been thinking for days about how to find a way to make some startup money for picking up girls. He couldn’t very well go around helping cattle sell vegetables at the market and skimming pennies off the price.

When he saw a player sulking after criticizing his teammate, Bai Haonan, like a seasoned madam, crossed over with arms folded, leaning on the knee-high advertising board and asked, “Need a player? Three hundred a match.” Ada skidded over on the ground, flashing a goofy smile as if doing his best to help Bai Haonan win the client.

The sweaty player’s eyes first landed on the dog’s face, then looked up in surprise at Bai Haonan, sunglasses and all. “What?”

Bai Haonan, trying to sound local, said, “Professional player to help you out—and not a full replacement. Your problem’s midfield. I’ll swap one player for you, guaranteed a win!”

That was the difference Bai Haonan had noticed. Inside the big stadium, over ten players earned five thousand a day, but with so many players, the actual per-person cut was small. More importantly, swapping the entire team made the match meaningless, and the original players lost the joy of playing. Such staging gigs had a narrow market—who would spend thousands to hire someone to replace them, only to sit dumb and watch, just for a reputation?

But if you brought in someone technically superior by several levels to join a wild team, boosting both their fun and competitiveness, that was a different matter.

This had been Bai Haonan’s biggest insight from playing street football at the medical university, and even more so after coaching an employee team for two or three months. Seven- or eight-a-side matches generally had about ten players; swapping one wouldn’t affect the game’s feel but would bring a qualitative leap. The formerly sulky guy immediately perked up. “Really? Who do we swap?”

Perhaps lingering effects from his brief stint as a gigolo made Bai Haonan flatter him, leaning closer. “Your number 23’s too soft. Too many turnovers. He’s the one to replace.”

The other player laughed in surprise. “Damn! You saw right through it. Of course, I know it’s him. I’m asking, who can replace him for us?”

Bai Haonan displayed the poise of an experienced madam. “Over there, enter Gate 9. The Yellow Team is playing inside… number 17. Let him replace your 23. You’ll see for yourself. Three hundred a match—think about it, a tip at a KTV costs the same.”

The player jumped up, ready to run, but Bai Haonan stopped him. “Phone number! What’s your number? I’ll send you mine. Contact me anytime you’re interested. Need as many as you want—guaranteed delivery and replacement until satisfied!”

The player chuckled at the familiar sales pitch, rattled off a number, and dashed off to check out the offer.

Bai Haonan smugly moved along the field looking for the next client, pulling out his phone to text the number. Then he called Qian Niu: “Tell Ting Ye to get serious, work harder. I’ve got a side gig outside.”

Qian Niu was probably on his phone, hastily ending the call but already shouting at number 17 to give it his all.

Bai Haonan hung up, humming to himself. Life was just this easy for him.

Then suddenly, a sharp female voice behind him snapped, “Stop right there, you scoundrel!”

Such a tone usually only came from Bai Haonan’s bed, to spice things up, so he first put on a self-assured, devilish smile before turning around.

It was a chubby girl, clutching the poor poodle. She was obviously accusing Ada, who had already scampered behind Bai Haonan for safety. But faced with Bai Haonan’s expression, the girl’s fierce energy deflated, and her voice softened. “Ivy, is this the bad guy?”

Bai Haonan didn’t want to pay compensation, so he just smiled apologetically, staring at her. Looking closely, yes, she was a bit plump, but her features were quite nice. He wondered if the training base had blurred his judgment. Judging from his earlier assessment of the players’ families, he definitely wouldn’t try to flirt now.

His mysterious smile only made the girl avoid eye contact behind his brown sunglasses, raising her voice to sound more forceful, “Hey! If you did something wrong, admit it. Don’t run!”

Bai Haonan noticed the delicate flush on her cheeks, a genuine, innocent shyness, like someone with little experience in love.

Her words, once so confident, now stumbled: “It, it… bad, bad…”

Bai Haonan stopped teasing. “Sorry, really sorry. I didn’t discipline Ada well. Can you forgive him?” He lightly kicked the dog, scolding, “Hurry up! What do you do now?”

What could a limping dog do but tilt its head and wag its tiny tail furiously?

The girl exhaled, visibly relieved, and smiled, “Don’t let it happen again, okay?”

Bai Haonan nodded, “Sure! Won’t happen again. Sorry!”

He turned to leave, and Ada glanced once at the fleeting encounter before scampering after him.

The girl clearly hadn’t expected such a clean retreat and instinctively called out, “Hey!” before quickly shutting up. Neither Bai Haonan nor Ada looked back as they briskly moved toward the smaller fields about fifty meters away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bai Haonan saw the chubby girl, still holding the poodle, casually walking after them.

This time, he truly didn’t want to get into trouble.