The absolute certainty in Yuelin's voice, the bedrock of her belief, was a lifeline thrown to Kai amidst the churning sea of his own doubt. He clung to it, the knot in his stomach loosening just enough to breathe. A shaky smile touched his lips. "Yeah," he managed, the word rough but carrying a flicker of the fire she'd reignited. "Yeah, one of them."
Bo slapped the cafe table, making the empty cups rattle. "Damn right! Celebration sesame balls! My treat!" He started digging in his pockets, pulling out a crumpled assortment of notes and coins.
Kai blinked, the mundane reality of the bustling street outside the academy gates suddenly rushing back. He looked at Bo and Xia, then at Yuelin, who had already gathered her things with her usual quiet efficiency. "Wait," he said, realization dawning. "Bo? Xia? Weren't you supposed to be at school *hours* ago? How long have you been sitting here?"
Li Xia waved a dismissive hand, a slightly guilty grin spreading across her face. "Pfft. School? After you walked into the dragon's lair? Please. We sat through, like, one class. Couldn't focus. Kept imagining you dribbling circles around Wei Jiang or getting eaten by Coach Liang. So," she shrugged, "we bailed. Figured Yuelin needed moral support waiting. And the cafe has surprisingly good mango shaved ice."
Bo nodded vigorously, counting out coins. "Exactly. Moral support duty. Vital mission. Besides," he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Old Man Wong in History was droning on about the Ming Dynasty tax reforms again. This was way more important. Priorities, Kai, priorities."
Kai shook his head, a genuine, weary laugh escaping him. The sheer, ridiculous loyalty of his friends was a constant wonder. "You two are gonna get detention for a week."
"Worth it!" Xia declared, standing up. "Now, come on! Sesame balls! And didn't you say you need to pick up Mei?"
The reminder cut through the lingering tension of the trials. "Right. Mei." Kai pushed himself up, the exhaustion in his muscles making itself known again, a deep, pervasive ache. "She'll be waiting."
They left the cafe, the expensive Dragon Bay air giving way to the familiar, grittier atmosphere of the bus ride back towards Phoenix District. The journey was a blur of tired silence punctuated by Bo's occasional commentary on passing scooters and Xia's dramatic recounting of their "great escape" from school. Yuelin sat beside Kai, her quiet presence a steady anchor. She didn't probe, didn't offer platitudes, just existed beside him, radiating that unwavering certainty that felt like solid ground.
They reached Mei's primary school just as the gates burst open, releasing a tide of chattering, brightly backpacked children. Mei spotted them instantly, her face lighting up like a small sun. "Gege! Yuelin-jiejie!" She abandoned the friend she was talking to and sprinted towards them, pigtails flying. She bypassed Kai entirely and launched herself at Yuelin, wrapping her small arms tightly around her waist. "You came too!"
Yuelin smiled, a warm, genuine expression that softened her usually composed features, and gently hugged Mei back. "Of course we came, Mei-Mei. How was your spelling test?"
"Easy-peasy!" Mei declared, pulling back and beaming. She finally turned her attention to Kai, her bright eyes scanning him critically. "Gege! You look tired! Like you wrestled a dragon! Did you win? Did you get on the shiny team?" The question was delivered with the innocent, absolute expectation of a ten-year-old who believed her brother could conquer the world.
Kai crouched down slightly, meeting her eager gaze. The weight of the day, the uncertainty of the letter, momentarily lifted under the sheer force of her belief. He ruffled her hair. "I did well, firecracker. Really well. Made it to the very last bit. Now," he straightened up, taking her small hand in his, "we wait for a letter to tell us if I got on the team."
Mei's eyes widened. "A letter? Like magic? Oooh! When does it come?"
"Soon, hopefully," Kai said, the knot giving a faint twinge. He looked at the others. "Alright, home? Mum and Dad won't be back for hours yet."
Bo gestured expansively down the street. "Lead the way, oh weary warrior! To the Lin fortress!"
But it was Yuelin who spoke, her voice calm. "Actually, to my home. My mother insisted. She heard about the trials." She glanced at Kai. "Your parents are working. We can go there, eat something proper, and wait until it's time to walk back together later."
Mei immediately started bouncing. "Auntie Wang's cooking! Yes! She makes the best sweet and sour!"
Kai hesitated for a fraction of a second. The Su household in Lotus Heights always felt… different. Cleaner, quieter, filled with books and the faint scent of herbal liniment from Mr. Su's clinic downstairs. It wasn't uncomfortable, just a world away from the noisy, oil-scented chaos above Xu's Repairs. But the thought of food, real food, and the welcoming presence of Yuelin's parents was undeniably appealing. "Okay," he agreed. "Thanks, Yuelin."
The walk to Lotus Heights was a gradual transition from the vibrant, slightly chaotic energy of Phoenix District to the tree-lined, quieter streets of the middle-class neighborhood. Mei skipped between them, chattering non-stop. They reached the Su residence, a neat, two-story house with a small, well-tended garden. Yuelin unlocked the door, calling out, "Mum? Dad? We're here!"
Wang Jing, Yuelin's mother, appeared from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a floral apron. Her face, usually carrying the thoughtful expression of a literature teacher, broke into a warm smile as she saw the group, her eyes lingering on Kai. "Kai! Everyone! Come in, come in! Just in time. I was just finishing up." She bustled forward, her gaze sharp and kind as she took in Kai's exhausted posture, his faded training gear. "You look like you've been through the wringer, young man. Sit down, sit down. Food's almost ready. Mei-Mei, hello sweetheart! Hungry?"
Mei nodded vigorously. "Starving! Gege wrestled a dragon!"
Wang Jing laughed, a warm, melodic sound. "Did he now? Well, dragons are hungry work, I imagine." She ushered them into the bright, airy living room, where a low table was already set with dishes. The aroma of ginger, garlic, and stir-fried vegetables was mouthwatering. "Su Haoran! They're here!" she called towards the back of the house.
A moment later, Su Haoran emerged from what Kai knew was his small home physiotherapy clinic. He wore comfortable trousers and a polo shirt, his demeanor calm and steady, the air of a man used to assessing bodies under stress. His eyes, intelligent and observant like his daughter's, immediately went to Kai, scanning him with professional interest but also paternal warmth. "Kai. Good to see you. Heard you faced the Jinjiang gauntlet today." He walked over, offering a firm handshake. "How was it? How do you feel? Any niggles, pains?"
Kai shook his hand, appreciating the directness. "It was… intense, Uncle Su. Long. Lots of drills, then a match against their second team. I feel okay. Just tired. Really tired. Sore, but nothing sharp." He instinctively rolled his shoulders, feeling the deep ache.
"Good, good," Su Haoran nodded, satisfied. "Fatigue is expected. Sharp pain is the enemy. Sit, eat. Food is the best recovery tool right now." He gestured towards the table just as Wang Jing started bringing out steaming dishes: glistening sweet and sour pork (Mei's favourite), tender stir-fried greens with garlic, fluffy white rice, and a clear broth with delicate tofu and mushrooms.
They settled around the table – Kai, Mei, Bo, Xia, Yuelin, and her parents. The atmosphere was warm, convivial, a haven after the pressure-cooker of the academy. Wang Jing piled Kai's plate high. "Eat, eat! You need your strength. Tell us everything! Was the pitch as perfect as they say? Were the coaches terrifying?"
Between mouthfuls of delicious food – the flavors a comforting balm – Kai recounted the day. Bo and Xia chimed in with dramatic embellishments about their "vigil" at the cafe. Kai described the immaculate grass, the brutal elimination drills ("Passing under pressure… they cut half of us after that!"), the dizzying speed of the academy players in the match, and his forced switch to left wing. He downplayed his own moments of brilliance but mentioned the assist for Wei Jiang's goal.
"Left wing?" Su Haoran mused, sipping his tea. "Not your natural position. But adaptability is crucial. Shows versatility. How did you find it?"
"Strange at first," Kai admitted, pushing rice around his plate. "Felt isolated. But… I just tried to play. Used my pace, tried to get crosses in. Made that pass for the goal." He didn't mention the knot of doubt about the final selection.
"And you made the final fifteen," Wang Jing said, her voice filled with quiet pride. "Out of so many! That's a huge achievement in itself, Kai."
"Five spots," Mei piped up through a mouthful of pork. "Gege said only five get the magic letter!"
A brief, knowing silence fell over the adults. Wang Jing reached over and squeezed Kai's hand briefly. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see what the letter says, won't we? But making the final fifteen is something to be very proud of." Her tone was encouraging, carefully neutral about the outcome.
Bo, ever the pragmatist, changed the subject. "This sweet and sour pork is amazing, Auntie Wang. Seriously, better than Old Man Chen's!"
Wang Jing beamed. "Flatterer! Have some more greens, Xu Bo. Growing boys need vitamins too."
The meal continued, filled with easy conversation, Mei's chatter, and the comforting clatter of chopsticks. The weight of the impending letter was still there, a presence at the table, but it was cushioned by the warmth of the Su family's hospitality and the solid presence of his friends. Kai felt the exhaustion creeping back, but it was a cleaner tiredness now, laced with the warmth of good food and belonging. Later, as dusk painted the Lotus Heights sky in soft pinks and oranges, they walked back towards Phoenix District. Kai dropped Mei off at home (Lifen had left a note saying she'd be home late from the factory), then walked with Bo, Xia, and Yuelin to the entrance of their alleyway.
"Get some proper sleep, Dragon-boy," Bo advised, punching Kai lightly on the arm. "You earned it."
"Dream of fancy boots and perfect passes!" Xia added with a grin.
Yuelin simply met his eyes. "Rest well, Kai." The unspoken *It will be okay* hung in the air between them, as potent as any spoken word.
Kai nodded, too tired for more words. "Thanks. All of you." He watched them disappear down the dimming alley towards their own homes before turning and climbing the creaking stairs to the silent apartment. He ate the simple meal Lifen had left covered on the table, washed up mechanically, and collapsed onto his thin mattress. Sleep claimed him instantly, a deep, dreamless void.
***
The days that followed were an exercise in suspended animation. Life in Phoenix District continued – school, helping Mei with homework, dodging Coach Deng's increasingly suspicious glances about his fatigue on the concrete pitch. But everything felt filtered through the lens of waiting. Every knock on the door, every sound of the mail slot rattling, sent Kai's heart leaping into his throat. He trained alone, relentlessly, pushing his body on the cracked concrete, the worn tennis ball his only companion, trying to burn off the nervous energy. The pristine grass of the Jinjiang pitch felt like a distant dream, replaced by the familiar, unforgiving hardness of home.
He saw his friends daily. Bo reported the minimal fallout from their skipped classes ("Detention polishing trophies in the gym. Boring, but better than tax reforms!"). Xia showed him sketches of flamboyant football boots she'd designed for him ("Golden dragon scales, see?"). Yuelin, as ever, was his calm center. She didn't constantly reassure him; she simply *was* there. They studied together (or pretended to), walked Mei to school, sat on the roof of Xu's Repairs watching the district lights come on. She talked about sports science articles she was reading, about the training regimens of top ISL players, subtly keeping his mind engaged with the world he desperately wanted to enter, without directly poking the raw nerve of the wait.
Lifen watched him with worried eyes, her anxiety a palpable thing in the small apartment. She fussed over his meals, made sure he slept, her silent fear that the dream would crumble and leave him broken warring with her fierce maternal desire for him to succeed. Weimin was quieter than usual, his gruff exterior hiding a deep concern. He'd occasionally ask, "Heard anything yet, son?" in a carefully casual tone that fooled no one. Kai would just shake his head, the knot tightening each time.
One week bled into a week and a half. The initial sharp edge of anticipation had dulled into a heavy, constant ache of uncertainty. Had he done enough? Had Coach Liang even remembered his name after seeing so many? Had the letter gotten lost? Was rejection already winging its way to crush him? The doubts, held at bay by Yuelin's certainty and his own stubbornness during the day, swarmed like angry wasps in the quiet darkness of his room at night.
Then, it happened. A Tuesday afternoon. Kai was sitting at the rickety kitchen table, attempting math homework while Mei drew pictures of dragons playing football beside him. Lifen was at the factory. Weimin was downstairs, tinkering half-heartedly with a stubborn scooter engine. The familiar, slightly rusty clatter of the mail slot sounded. Kai barely registered it, engrossed in a particularly stubborn equation. But Mei's head snapped up.
"Mail!" she announced, scrambling off her chair.
Kai's pencil froze mid-calculation. His breath hitched. He listened, his whole body tensing, as Mei's small footsteps pattered to the door. There was a rustle of paper, then her voice, bright and clear: "Gege! It's a fancy letter! Shiny paper!"
Time seemed to stop. The equation vanished from Kai's mind. The sounds of the district faded. There was only the pounding of his own heart, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs, and the rustle of paper as Mei skipped back into the kitchen. She held out a thick, cream-colored envelope. It looked impossibly formal, intimidating. In the top left corner, embossed in elegant blue and silver, was the unmistakable crest of Jinjiang United Football Club. Below it, typed in crisp black font: *Mr. Lin Kai.*
Kai stared at it. His hand, when he reached out, trembled slightly. He took the envelope. It felt heavy. Far heavier than paper had any right to be. It contained his future. Acceptance. Rejection. The confirmation of Yuelin's faith or the shattering of his family's fragile hopes.
"Open it, Gege! Open it!" Mei bounced on her toes, her eyes wide with excitement, oblivious to the seismic weight of the moment.
Kai couldn't move. He just stared at the crest, the formal typeface of his name. The air felt thick, suffocating. He needed… he needed them. All of them.
"Mei," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, tight and hoarse. "Run downstairs. Get Dad. Quick." Mei, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, the gravity in his tone, didn't argue. She darted out of the kitchen, her small feet thudding down the stairs. "Dad! Dad! The magic letter came!"
Kai stood up, the chair scraping loudly on the linoleum floor. He walked to the doorway on legs that felt numb. He needed air, space. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, his fingers clumsy. He found Yuelin's number first, then a group chat with Bo and Xia. His thumb hovered. He typed a single, trembling message, sending it to all three:
> **The letter. It's here.**
He didn't wait for replies. He knew. He knew they would come. He walked back to the table, placing the envelope carefully, almost reverently, in the very center of the worn, scarred wood. It lay there, an inert object radiating immense, terrifying power. He pulled out chairs, four of them, arranging them around the table facing the envelope. He stood behind one, gripping the backrest until his knuckles turned white, staring at the crest, waiting. The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the frantic hammering of his own heart and the distant, rising sound of footsteps on the stairs – Weimin's heavier tread and Mei's lighter patter returning.
The door burst open. Weimin stood there, wiping grease from his hands onto a rag, his face pale beneath the usual grime, his eyes fixed on the envelope on the table. Mei squeezed past him, rushing to stand beside Kai, her small hand instinctively finding his and gripping it tightly. She looked up at him, her earlier excitement now mixed with a dawning understanding of the tension coiling in the room. "Is it the magic, Gege?" she whispered.
Before Kai could answer, the sound of running feet echoed from the alley below, then pounding up the stairs. Xu Bo exploded through the doorway, breathing hard, his eyes wide and instantly zeroing in on the envelope. "You got it! You got it! Don't open it yet!" He skidded to a halt beside the table, vibrating with nervous energy.
Seconds later, Li Xia tumbled in after him, her hair slightly dishevelled, clutching a small, hastily drawn banner that read "GO KAI!" in shaky letters. "We came as fast as we could! Is that it? Oh wow, it looks… official." She placed the banner carefully on the edge of the table, as if it might influence the outcome.
And then, quiet footsteps on the stairs. Su Yuelin appeared in the doorway. She wasn't running. She walked in calmly, but her eyes, usually so composed, held an intense focus. She took in the scene – Kai pale and tense, Mei clinging to his hand, Weimin frozen by the door, Bo and Xia buzzing with nervous energy, and the envelope lying like a sacred relic on the scarred table. She walked straight to the empty chair beside Kai and sat down. She didn't say a word. She simply placed her hand lightly on the table, near his, a silent anchor in the storm. Her gaze, steady and unwavering, met Kai's. It was the same look she'd given him outside the academy cafe, the look that carried the weight of her absolute conviction: *You will be one of them.*
The small apartment was full now, crowded with the people who mattered most. The air crackled with anticipation, thick enough to choke on. All eyes were fixed on the single, cream-colored envelope lying on the worn kitchen table. Lin Kai took a deep, shuddering breath that did nothing to calm the frantic drumming in his chest. The future, his future, was contained within that rectangle of expensive paper. He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface. The Jinjiang United crest felt like ice and fire beneath his touch. It was time.