Oh, Vast Heavens, Why Are You So Cruel to Me?

After rolling into the second team's goal, the football became tangled in the net, unable to move.

Hu Lai himself staggered from the toe-poke and nearly fell to the ground. But in the end, he managed to keep his balance and struggled toward the sideline.

This time, he did not turn around to call for his teammates again. No one was going to come celebrate the goal with him anyway.

He was right. As he went off to celebrate, the teammates behind him truly remained unmoved.

They stared blankly at Hu Lai's back, their minds full of question marks.

Wasn't this kid's luck just absurdly good?

Twice in a row, he had received the ball completely unmarked. Scoring goals like that was practically effortless...

Why hadn't we been there?!

Hu Lai's good fortune made them jealous, envious, and resentful. It also made them miserable.

Li Zhiqun, for instance, was miserable.

After missing the ball with his shot, he had fallen flat on his backside. Both hands clutched the muscles in his right thigh, his face twisted in pain—he had pulled a muscle near the top of his thigh.

Then he saw Hu Lai score his second goal, and his injury instantly seemed to worsen. He hurt even more, so much that he could barely breathe.

God! How could you do this?!

His eyes burned as he glared at Hu Lai—That was clearly my chance! You thief, you stole my goal!

He had no intention of acknowledging that it was his own miss that had given Hu Lai the chance to pick up the scraps in front of goal.

He only felt a fire building in his chest, ready to explode.

The reaction in the stands to Hu Lai's second goal was still rather muted. When he ran to the corner flag area to celebrate, there was no great cheer.

Most people were still talking about how Hu Lai had stepped in shit twice in a row.

"His luck is too good!"

That was what Song Jiajia heard most often in the stands.

But Song Jiajia no longer thought so himself. He shook his head in disbelief and muttered, "I didn't expect that kid to actually have talent for football..."

Li Qingqing smiled beside him.

One goal could still be explained away as luck, but what about two identical goals?

If it were really just pure luck, Hu Lai should not be playing football. He should be buying lottery tickets. He would have reached the peak of life long ago.

This was his talent, his ability.

She recalled the first time she had met Hu Lai in that secret base, when he had told her, "Actually, I'm a poacher-type striker. Getting on the end of chances and shooting is what I'm best at."

At the time, she had thought Hu Lai was merely making excuses for being unable to get past her. Of course, he definitely had been making excuses then.

But he had accidentally hit the mark with his nonsense. He really was a poacher-type striker!

Thinking of this, she glanced toward her father.

She did not know whether her father had noticed what was different about Hu Lai as well. She hoped he had. Then perhaps... perhaps there really might be a chance for him to make an exception and recruit Hu Lai into the team?

Li Ziqiang stood by the sideline, his gaze also resting on the figure celebrating alone.

The kid had scored two goals already. If he still failed to notice him, then he might as well not be a coach.

He lowered his head and looked at the notebook in his hand, connecting the player's number with his name.

Hu Lai.

The one he had given a zero for positional defensive responsibilities.

When Hu Lai scored his first goal, Li Ziqiang had honestly thought it was just luck—apart from someone like Li Qingqing, who was wholly on Hu Lai's side and had been watching him closely, it was only natural for normal people to assume his goal had come from luck.

But after scoring twice in the same manner, it became difficult to keep saying that he had only scored through luck.

Ordinary fans who were just there for the spectacle could say something like that, and no one could blame them. But if a professional football coach said the same thing, it would be an insult to his own professional standards.

Li Ziqiang did not believe Hu Lai had scored twice simply because he had gotten lucky twice.

There had been plenty of space around him for both goals, but why was he the only one who could appear there? Why had no one else seen it or made it there?

Was that luck?

Perhaps.

But Li Ziqiang preferred to believe there had to be some inevitable connection behind those two seemingly identical goals that looked like pure dumb luck.

That connection was—perhaps only Hu Lai could spot those deadly gaps and appear there at precisely the right time.

This left back had an exceptionally sharp instinct in front of goal.

Only...

Li Ziqiang looked down at the evaluation criteria beside Hu Lai's name in his notebook.

Tactical awareness... did he have any? So far, there was no way to tell. Being good at getting on the end of chances in front of goal did not necessarily mean his tactical awareness was outstanding.

Not to mention his positional and defensive responsibilities—he was a left back, yet the more he played, the more he resembled a forward.

His technical execution under pressure deserved a flat zero as well. Both goals had been scored without any physical challenge; whenever there was contact, he had nothing worth mentioning to show for it.

His playing style and mentality... those seemed slightly better, but only slightly.

It could be said that aside from his excellent instinct in front of goal, this person was practically good for nothing.

What was the point of recruiting someone like that into the school team?

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Li Zhiqun's injury was only discovered when the match was about to resume. Before that, everyone had been too busy marveling at Hu Lai's absurd luck. Even those who saw Li Zhiqun sitting on the ground with a pained expression assumed he was suffering because Hu Lai had scored—before the match, everyone had noticed that Li Zhiqun and Hu Lai did not seem to get along very well.

It was not until the match was about to restart, the first team's players had all returned to their own half, and Li Zhiqun was still sitting in front of the second team's goal without getting up that everyone realized he was injured—and injured badly enough that he could not continue.

In the end, Li Zhiqun limped off the field with Yan Yan supporting him.

He left reluctantly, looking back with every step and hesitating every few paces.

He could not bear to leave.

The trial was not over yet. He had not even scored a goal, and now he had to come off.

He was unwilling to accept it!

He turned back toward the pitch.

Then Hu Lai entered his field of vision.

That brat was waving at him.

Goodbye!

That was what his lips were saying...

Bastard!

Li Zhiqun clenched his fists and struggled in agitation.

Yan Yan, the vice-captain supporting him, hurriedly comforted him. "All right, all right, I know you can't bear to leave. But you're injured now, so just come off. Don't force yourself..."

Li Zhiqun was miserable. Can't bear to leave the match? I want to go back and beat that bastard up!

In the end, he still failed to break free from Yan Yan's grip and was helped off the field.

Sitting by the sideline, Li Zhiqun stared blankly at Hu Lai and recalled what that brat had said to him before the match.

"Li Zhiqun, the match is about to start. You're wandering around here without warming up—aren't you afraid you'll get injured or something during the game?"

He had never expected that brat's words to come true. He really had gotten injured!

He wanted to get back on the pitch and demand an explanation from Hu Lai. But the moment he tried to stand, a tearing pain shot through the muscle at the base of his thigh. It hurt so badly that he bared his teeth and dropped back onto his butt.

What did I ever do wrong? Why are you treating me like this, heavens?!