Come Train Me to Your Heart's Content

When Hu Lai dragged himself home, exhausted, he found his mother standing in the doorway, her face full of anger.

"You still know how to come home?" His mother stood with her hands on her hips, radiating authority.

Hu Lai hunched his neck and said nothing, merely edging along the wall in an attempt to return to his room and put down his schoolbag.

But his mother reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "It was one thing when you took advantage of your dad working the night shift to go play some football. But now you're addicted to it? Look at the time! I've reheated the food twice already!"

"Mom... I joined the school football team. As soon as team practice ended, I rushed straight home..." Hu Lai did not lie to his mother, because he knew she did not oppose him playing football.

Even so, his mother still sucked in a sharp breath upon hearing this. "You joined the school football team?!"

Hu Lai nodded.

"Don't you know your father doesn't like you playing football?"

"Anyway, he doesn't know... as long as you don't tell him, Mom..." Hu Lai piled a smile onto his face.

"What if I tell him?"

"Mom, love me one more time!" Hu Lai threw his arms around her.

"Get lost, get lost, get lost!" His mother shoved her son away, but in the end, she did not say anything about tattling to her husband. Instead, she stared at her son and sighed. "What are you doing this for...? Can't you just focus on your studies?"

Hu Lai set down his schoolbag and said to his mother, "I am studying hard, Mom. I read about this scientific theory that moderate exercise helps develop the brain. Exercise causes dopamine to be released, and dopamine keeps the brain alert and improves learning efficiency. So every time I finish playing football, I feel like I have endless energy and just want to throw myself into my books..."

"If you've got the guts, say that nonsense again in front of your dad. Go wash your hands and eat!" Clearly, his mother had no interest in listening to his nonsense.

"Yep, got it!" Hu Lai obediently picked up his schoolbag, ran to his room to put it down, then dashed into the bathroom to wash his hands.

As he passed the dining table, he did not forget to flatter his mother with an exaggerated gesture—taking a deep breath toward the table—and an equally exaggerated tone. "Mmm—! Smells amazing!! My mom's cooking is the best in the whole world!"

"You little brat, all you know is how to sweet-talk!" His mother raised her hand, only to smile helplessly in the end.

Li Qingqing held her rice bowl without taking a bite. Instead, she watched her father across the table, who was eating with great relish.

The expression on her face shifted for quite a while before she finally made up her mind. She put down her bowl and chopsticks and said to her father, "Dad, do you have something against Hu Lai?"

Li Ziqiang looked up at his daughter in surprise. "Why do you suddenly say that?"

"The pass you gave him was obviously hit very hard. You made him embarrass himself in front of so many people."

"I did that to show him what kind of passes he might receive in a match. A match isn't training, where your teammates always wait until you're ready before giving you slow, soft passes..."

"Dad, that was the kind of power used in professional matches, wasn't it?" Li Qingqing pouted. "Do you think middle school matches can have passes like that?"

"Why not?" Li Ziqiang put down his bowl and chopsticks and explained to his daughter. "Don't decide in advance what can happen and what cannot. Since it's training, every situation has to be considered."

"Is that really so?" Li Qingqing stared at her father.

"Of course it is. He's a forward, right? Given his talent, the first thing he needs to do well is control the ball. After all, space in the penalty area is tight, and the balls his teammates give him won't be as comfortable as they would in other positions, because the opposition's defending will be tighter there too... You understand that, right?"

Li Qingqing nodded. She admitted that everything her father said was correct.

Hu Lai's talent meant that he could become an outstanding goalscorer, a poacher. But that also meant he needed to rely on his teammates' passes. If he could not even control the ball, then he really would not be able to play well.

"You thought that pass was hit too hard. It's true, I put a lot of power into it. But how do you know that, in an actual match, no one would overhit a rushed pass? Are you expecting every pass his teammates make to have exactly the right amount of power and a perfectly accurate angle?"

Faced with her father's question, Li Qingqing could not say a word.

"So I wasn't deliberately making things difficult for him, nor was I trying to embarrass him—the people gathered around the pitch weren't called there by me." Li Ziqiang spread his hands. He was remarkably patient with his daughter, completely unlike the cold-blooded devil coach he had been on the training ground.

Li Qingqing said nothing. Her brows furrowed slightly as though she were considering what her father had said.

She had to admit that her father's reasoning made a great deal of sense, but why did she still feel that something was off?

Seeing that his daughter was still frowning, Li Ziqiang picked up his bowl and chopsticks and asked casually, "By the way, I've noticed you seem rather concerned about this Hu Lai..."

Li Qingqing was a little startled. "Huh? Am I?"

"Yes. Before this, you specifically asked me what I thought of Hu Lai's performance in the trial match, didn't you?"

"Ah, y-yes..." Li Qingqing became flustered and hurriedly explained, "Because he's my classmate. There aren't many people on this team that I know..."

"Luo Kai is your classmate too, isn't he?" Li Ziqiang looked calmly at his daughter. "Why don't I see you worrying so much about him?"

"Him?" Li Qingqing froze for a moment, then smiled. "I don't need to worry about him, do I? He's your favorite, Dad."

"Watch how you speak... Eat." Li Ziqiang waved his chopsticks.

"Okay, I'm eating!" Li Qingqing obediently picked up her bowl and chopsticks. As she lowered her head to eat, she secretly stuck out her tongue and breathed a sigh of relief inwardly.

Meanwhile, Li Ziqiang looked at his daughter, who believed she had escaped disaster and was now concentrating on her meal, his gaze slightly distant.

Just as Hu Lai had said, after playing football, all he wanted was to throw himself into his books—but not to study. He wanted to throw himself onto his books and rest.

He was currently sprawled lazily over his books with his eyes closed, savoring a strange and wonderful sensation.

It truly was an incredibly strange feeling—he could sense that the training with the school team that afternoon had improved his fundamentals. He knew no one would believe him if he said it aloud, but he genuinely felt that he had improved.

It was progress that made absolutely no sense and could not be measured with data.

It was simply his personal feeling.

But it was real.

He guessed this was the effect of the [Training Boost Potion] he had taken earlier.

Come to think of it, today's session with the school team had been the first proper professional football training class of his life. Although Li Qingqing had taught him before, it had mostly been last-minute cramming for the team tryouts, along with coordination training.

It seemed the potion's effects were excellent—powerful, even. This was only his first class, yet the changes were already so obvious. If he kept training like this, wouldn't his improvement be through the roof?

At that thought, Hu Lai found the fierce-looking head coach much less annoying, and he fully understood and supported the training regimen assigned to him.

That's right, my fundamentals suck, so train me hard! I'll never refuse!

COME ON, BABY!

YEAH!

Thirty days from now, when I'm still on this team, I'll definitely make every last one of you drop your jaws. Heh heh!

Sigh, if only the [Training Boost Potion] could last forever...

P.S. I saw some people protesting my description of snail rice noodles in Chapter 30.

I have to say, that was based on my personal experience.

Lately, I've been especially obsessed with snail rice noodles. Not only did I order a lot of deliveries, I also cooked them at home. In the end, my wife banished me to the balcony to slurp them by myself...

Once, when I went out to pick up a delivery of snail rice noodles, I smelled something foul nearby. I even complained to myself that the property management was irresponsible—someone had taken a dump on the lawn and they hadn't cleaned it up. It wasn't until I got home and finished the noodles that I realized the smell of shit had come from my own delivery...

The first time I ate snail rice noodles at home, I thought the smell was fine—not as bad as I'd imagined. Then my son came home, sat by the entrance changing his shoes, and suddenly shouted, "Mom! Why does the house smell like poop?!"

My son didn't know what snail rice noodles were. He only knew that the house had suddenly acquired a stink that smelled like poop.

I think snail rice noodles really do stink, but to me, they taste even better, so the smell doesn't seem all that noticeable. But for some people, it's different. It really is a smell that can make them gag.

It's like that canned herring—the internet-famous stinky food. I managed to get a can back then and opened it on the rooftop with some relatives to eat it. I felt the smell was just so-so, not nearly as bad as people made it out to be, though it definitely wasn't pleasant either.

But plenty of people really are overwhelmed by the stench of canned herring. Its notorious reputation isn't something everyone exaggerated for show.

I merely described an objective characteristic of snail rice noodles and used that characteristic as a joke.

Of course, if readers from Guangxi are unhappy about this and feel that I insulted a local delicacy from their hometown, I can apologize to you. I didn't mean to insult snail rice noodles. In fact, I really like them. I'm even planning to go to Guangxi someday to eat the most authentic snail rice noodles...

But I won't change even a single word of that scene in my book, because if I changed it, the scene wouldn't hold up. It wouldn't make sense, and it would lose its meaning.

Some people said I could use something else, change the scene to show Hu Lai's slyness... But I'd been especially fond of snail rice noodles lately, so when I was thinking of a gag, snail rice noodles happened to come to mind.

I bear absolutely no ill will toward snail rice noodles. If anything, I'm full of affection for them. Really, I freaking love snail rice noodles!