Unconventional Center

Chapter 8: Drawing a Circle

Early the next morning, Chu Yang was jolted awake by his phone ringing. Still half-asleep, he glanced at it and picked up the phone to answer. “Sis,” Chu Yang mumbled. “Just woke up?” Chu Yu’s melodious voice came through the receiver. “No practice today?” “If I train any more, I’ll go crazy,” Chu Yang rubbed his eyes, sat up, and leaned against the headboard. “Besides, the team had a game yesterday.” “What does the team’s game have to do with you?” Chu Yu chuckled softly. Even through the phone, Chu Yang could picture his sister’s teasing smile. “I played,” he said, sounding a bit annoyed. “Oh?” “And I scored a goal,” Chu Yang boasted with a touch of pride, feeling a bit like someone who’d made it big but hadn’t returned home—as if he were walking in fine clothes at night. “Was it a penalty kick?” Chu Yu asked, sounding puzzled. “Was it that tough? Couldn’t they decide the winner even in overtime?” “The league doesn’t have any damn overtime…” Chu Yanggang was just about to explain the rules to her when he suddenly remembered that Chu Yu wasn’t exactly a soccer novice—she was clearly just teasing him on purpose. “That doesn’t make sense. If it wasn’t a penalty kick, you still scored? What kind of weak team is that?” Chu Yu’s voice was full of distrust toward Chu Yang. “Are you even my biological child?” “Hard to say. Who knows what Mom was buying when she got you as a freebie.” “Whoa! Did you hear that? The little boat of family love just capsized.” “How can it just capsize like that? All those years of raising you for nothing—you ungrateful wretch, you ungrateful wretch.” “This ungrateful wretch needs to catch up on some sleep. If you have business, speak now; if not, the court is dismissed.” “Your Majesty, please wait! I still have a favor to ask.” “Oh! Your Majesty, please wait a moment. I’ll go see which direction the Sun is rising from today.” As he spoke, Chu Yang actually got out of bed, walked to the window, pulled back the curtains, and stretched with a refreshing yawn. “Of course the Sun rises in the east, and of course you’re my biological sister. So, in a word—will you help me or not?” “I’ll help! Of course I’ll help! Go ahead—is it murder, arson, catching a cheating spouse, or catching a thief? It’s just a matter of a single word for Your Sisterly Highness!” “You don’t need to get involved in trivial matters like murder or arson,” Chu Yu said. “Here’s the deal: our school is planning a New Year’s Eve gala, and your beautiful, stunning, and captivating older sister has been forcibly assigned a task by the college. You know the rest.” “Write a song?” Chu Yang caught on instantly. “It’s the 21st today, right? Is there still time?” Before Chu Yu could answer, another woman’s voice drifted faintly through the receiver: “Chu Yu, do you really want your little brother to help write a new song? Is there enough time?” “Don’t worry, it’s just one song—a piece of cake for my little brother,” Chu Yu replied to the person on the other end before turning to the receiver and saying in a sickly sweet tone, “Right, Yangyang?” Chu Yang immediately got goosebumps from the way she addressed him and said, “Holy crap, if you keep calling me that, do you think I won’t lose my temper?” “Oh, and who exactly are you, ‘Young Master’?” “If you can write songs, you can be whatever ‘young master’ you want.” “Alright, Your Highness, give me a straight answer—when will it be done?” “Well… I’m not in the best shape right now. After all, I just played a match yesterday and scored three goals—my back and legs are killing me…” “Come on, cut the act. We know each other well—I’ve known you since you were still in diapers,” Chu Yu interrupted him. “Time is tight and the task is heavy. You’ll just have to put in a little extra effort, young man. Send me the song demo by this time tomorrow, and once you’re back in the country, I’ll take you to school to live the high life and hook up with some hot girls.” This girl came across as so gentle and demure in public, but around Chu Yang, she turned into a total wild child—it really just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover. Chu Yang sighed, “Man, if Mom and Dad found out you’re such a troublemaker, would they beat you to death?” “No, they’d beat you to a pulp—because you’re the one who taught me all this.” “You win,” Chu Yangdao said. “I’ll brush my teeth first. I’ll send it to you in an hour.” “Okay… an hour?” “Of course. I’ve got to grab something to tide me over first, right?” “I knew you had more songs!” Chu Yu said indignantly. “You’ve been hiding them pretty well, Chu Xiaoyang.” “It doesn’t matter if I wrote them before or just now—as long as I’m giving them to you, that’s all that matters,” Chu Yangdao said. “Gotta go now.” “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Whether Big Sis can make a splash and wow the whole crowd depends on you.” Chu Yang hung up, washed up, ate breakfast, then picked up the guitar in the corner to record a song. After writing the lyrics, he sent them to Chu Yu. Chu Yu could handle things like writing sheet music and arranging the music on her own—after all, with a mother who was a music professor, she’d been forced to take sight-singing and ear training classes since she was a child. Transcribing melodies and writing sheet music were among the first skills unlocked in both her and her brother’s skill trees. Copying songs was something that got easier with practice. At first, he’d even blush a little as he pretended to be shy, but now putting his own name on the lyrics and composition felt as natural as a hungry person seeking food. The time difference between Spain and China was about six hours; it should be afternoon over there now. Shortly after sending the file, Chu Yang picked up her phone and dialed the number. “Sis, I sent it to your email. Check your inbox.” “Got it, I’m already listening,” Chu Yu said. “Congrats on winning over three more die-hard fans. The three girls in our dorm have already declared they’ll marry no one but you. What a disaster.” “Hmm, as expected of a woman who lives with Her Highness, your taste is definitely commendable. But please tell them that I only accept sports fans—no music fans,” Chu Yang said, his voice dropping. “What do they look like?” “A rabbit doesn’t eat the grass by its burrow—put away your dirty, sleazy little thoughts,” Chu Yu said. “You guys should be on break by now, right? Are you really not coming back?” “No, thanks. I’ve been training like crazy lately, so I’m taking a break to try and perform better in the second half of the season. Otherwise, it’d be embarrassing to get sent back.” Chu Yu’s voice softened as she said, “It’s up to you. Don’t push yourself so hard. Worst-case scenario, you’ll just stop playing—it’s not like you’ll starve to death.” “Yeah, I know.” “Do you still have enough money? If not, I’ll send you some.” “I’m actually planning to buy a plane, but I’m still short 135,612,473 yuan. Please, big sis, send some support.” “Alright, I’ll wire you seventy-three yuan right away—just a little something from your big sister. Don’t say it’s too little.” “……” Chu Yangdao said, “Come to think of it, I don’t think my pilot’s license is valid for flying planes in Spain. I’ll just forget about it.” “Haha, I can’t be bothered to banter with you. I’m off to practice singing,” Chu Yu said. “Take care of yourself.” “Okay, you too. Bring Mom and Dad over to visit when you’re on break.” “Definitely. I’ve never even been to Spain before.” After hanging up, Chu Yang went online to check the news and quickly found his name in several sports sections. The headlines were nothing out of the ordinary—“A Fluke or the Birth of a New Star?” , “China’s Sub Shines at Riazor Stadium,” “The Second Rising Star in a Soccer Desert”—and Chu Yang wasn’t in the mood to read them in detail. In the eyes of the Spanish public, he was, after all, just an insignificant passerby; a fluke performance couldn’t change the reality that he was still a minor player. People were still more interested in the half-true, half-false transfer rumors surrounding the superstars. Across the ocean, He Qingyuan, head coach of the Chinese National Team, was intently watching the game footage, replaying those three goals by Chu Yang countless times. He spent the entire afternoon watching the game and only snapped out of it when his son came to call him for dinner. “That’s yesterday’s game, right?” He Feng said. “Dad, are you planning to recruit Chu Yang to the national team?” Next year is a World Cup year. Thanks to the outstanding performance of midfield star Yang Shaotian, the China National Team had narrowly qualified for the finals, achieving a historic breakthrough. He Qingyuan had already been heavily mythologized by the public, and as both his son and a soccer fan, He Feng naturally knew just how much pressure his father was under. “I am considering it,” He Qingyuan said. “That kid has made tremendous progress.” He Feng replied, “It’s more than just progress—he’s been completely transformed. If this isn’t just a fluke or a stroke of luck, he’d have no trouble securing a starting spot on a mid-to-lower-tier La Liga team.” “It probably isn’t luck. That kind of instinct is innate—luck can’t explain it,” said He Qingyuan. The father and son shared a common interest and usually got along well; He Qingyuan didn’t hide his thoughts from He Feng. “I misjudged him.” He Feng knew that He Qingyuan had looked down on Chu Yang a bit in the past—and, in truth, hadn’t he done the same? That young man had initially been praised by the media in China as the best in the world, only to be later dismissed as worthless. In the eyes of the He family, it had all been nothing more than a farce—but now it seemed he might just turn out to be a true rising star. He Qingyuan found Chu Yang’s name on a densely packed list and circled it with his pen. Whether he turns out to be a dragon or a snake, let time be the judge.