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Nezha stood before the ball, his gaze fixed on the goal. He took a deep breath, sprinted forward, lifted his foot, and unleashed a powerful shot!
"Bang!" The ball shot off like a cannonball, heading straight for the upper right corner of the goal.
"Great shot!" His teammates on the sidelines began to cheer.
However, the goalkeeper of the Blue Team leaped with all his might, fingertips grazing the ball and altering its trajectory. The ball soared high, sailing over the goal and out of bounds.
Nezha slammed his fist into the grass in frustration. "So close!"
But soon, his attention was drawn by a startled gasp.
"Ah!"
Following the sound, Nezha saw the Blue-Haired Boy clutching his face, books scattered around him, and his gold-rimmed glasses askew on his nose, creating a rather comical sight. It turned out that Nezha's free kick had accidentally flown out of bounds and hit the boy who had been quietly reading.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd; some laughed good-naturedly while others asked if the boy was alright. Nezha scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed, but he thought it wasn't really his fault—after all, who reads by the soccer field? Wasn't that asking for trouble?
"Hey, you okay?" Nezha strolled over slowly, his tone tinged with impatience. "Who told you to read by the field? That's just asking for it."
The boy looked up, annoyance flickering behind his glasses before he quickly regained his composure. He methodically removed his glasses and pulled out a cleaning cloth from his pocket to wipe the lenses.
"I believe this is a public space, and I have the right to read wherever I choose. Moreover, if I recall correctly, school rules state that soccer balls should be kept within the field and not fly out to injure anyone," he replied calmly but firmly, each word piercing through Nezha like ice.
Nezha's face flushed with anger; he despised people who used rules to lecture others, finding them even more annoying than his father.
"Ha! When I was playing soccer, you weren't even around! I know this field like the back of my hand, so don't think you can teach me the rules!" Nezha said, hands on his hips, looking down at the boy still seated on the bench. "Besides, it was just an accident! Is it really necessary to make such a fuss?"
The boy adjusted his glasses and stood up. To Nezha's surprise, he was taller than he had expected, standing a full head above him once upright, which only added to Nezha's irritation.
"An accident?" The boy's voice remained calm, but his gaze sharpened. "This is clearly your recklessness and irresponsibility. If your skills were good enough, the ball wouldn't have gone out of bounds. If your attitude were better, you should be apologizing instead of blaming others."
Nezha was left speechless, his face alternating between shades of red and white. He hated being told his skills were lacking; it felt like the greatest insult to him.
"What did you say? Say that again!" Nezha clenched his fists, his eyes wide with fury. "Do you have any idea how many goals I've scored on the field? If you dare say I'm not skilled, are you looking for a fight?"
Unfazed by Nezha's anger, the boy replied coolly, "Threatening violence? It seems you have issues not only with your skills but also with your character."
Those words completely enraged Nezha. He grabbed the boy's collar. "Try saying that again!"
The boy was suddenly pulled closer, his glasses askew once more, yet he showed no sign of fear. Instead, he met Nezha's gaze directly. "Please let go; you're infringing on my personal space. If you continue this behavior, I will report you to the school security."
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