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墨書 Inktalez
But just as he was about to execute his perfect plan, his peripheral vision caught sight of the Blue-Haired Boy lifting his head, seemingly attracted by the shouts from the crowd, looking in this direction.
"I have to get in!" Nezha roared in his heart, eager to prove himself.
But this distraction caused his movements to falter. The once-smooth feint became awkward and unnatural, easily seen through by the opposing defender. A beautiful tackle intercepted the ball.
"Nezha, what are you doing?!" The complaints from his teammates rose in a chorus.
Frustrated, Nezha slammed his fist into the grass before quickly getting back up, trying to regain possession. But the opposing team had already launched a swift counterattack. After a few passes, they broke through the Red Team's defense and delivered a powerful shot that found the back of the net.
"Beep!" The referee blew the final whistle.
The match ended with a narrow victory for the Red Team, 3-2 over the Blue Team. Although they won, Nezha's teammates showed little joy, especially after seeing their coach's grim expression; they fell silent.
"I am very disappointed with today's match," the coach said solemnly. "Especially in the second half, your teamwork fell apart completely. Nezha, your performance disappointed me the most. You have great talent, but if you can't control your emotions, you'll never become a true player."
Nezha hung his head, speechless. He knew the coach was right, but he couldn't accept it; why should that clueless guy criticize him?
"Practice is over; everyone go home and rest. Nezha, don’t forget your extra training," the coach said before turning to leave.
Teammates trickled away from the field in small groups. A few patted Nezha on the shoulder in consolation, but most just shook their heads in resignation. Soon, only Nezha remained on the field.
He sighed and began to jog around the pitch. His footsteps felt heavy, and his mood was even heavier. He didn’t understand why he always ended up like this; he had great skills but ruined everything because he couldn’t control his emotions. It reminded him of his childhood when he was punished by teachers for being mischievous—the disappointed look in his father's eyes still haunted him to this day.
"You will never grow up, and you will never learn to control yourself." The father's words cut through Nezha's heart like a sharp knife.
"That's not true..." Nezha silently retorted in his mind, quickening his pace as if he could shake off all the negative emotions behind him.
He ran for an unknown length of time, his stamina gradually waning, and his steps became unsteady. Sweat rolled down his forehead like beads from a broken string, soaking his T-shirt. Yet he gritted his teeth and pressed on, lap after lap, as if punishing himself or proving something to himself.
The sun sank lower in the sky, and the lights on the court flickered on, adding a touch of loneliness to the empty space.
"You should take a break and hydrate."
A calm voice suddenly broke the night's silence. Nezha looked up in surprise to find the Blue-Haired Boy had returned to the sidelines, holding a bottle of mineral water.
Nezha stopped, eyeing him warily. "You haven't left? Here to watch me make a fool of myself?"
The Blue-Haired Boy shook his head and offered the bottle. "You've run twenty-eight laps; it's about time to stop. Overtraining isn't good for your body."
Nezha was taken aback, not expecting him to be counting his laps. After hesitating for a moment, he accepted the water and drank it down in one go. The cold liquid flowed down his throat, bringing a long-lost sense of comfort.
"Thanks," Nezha mumbled quietly before quickly adding, "but that doesn't mean I've forgiven you!"
The Blue-Haired Boy adjusted his glasses, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I don't need your forgiveness because I haven't done anything wrong. You, on the other hand, should reflect on your own behavior."
Nezha rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Ice Block Face, you're just looking for trouble! Who told you to read by the court?"
"My name is Ao Bing, not Ice Block Face," the Blue-Haired Boy corrected. "The view here is open and the ventilation is good; it's a great place to read. Moreover, according to Article 3, Section 7 of the school regulations, students are allowed to freely use the facilities around the sports field during non-competition times, as long as it does not interfere with normal athletic activities."
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