Night enveloped Madrid, and Rayo Vallecano's team bus slowly pulled into the training ground. The bus was silent, with only the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
Four consecutive losses. This number hung like a massive stone, weighing on everyone's hearts.
Lu Chuan sat in the back row, gazing at the flickering lights outside the window. His phone screen lit up with a message from Carlos: "Don't worry, it's not your fault."
He didn't reply, just put his phone back in his pocket. The mistake had been made; what was needed now wasn't comfort, but change.
"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, meet in the conference room." Before getting off the bus, Lu Chuan stood up, his voice not loud but clear enough for everyone to hear, "Only players, no coaches."
His teammates exchanged glances, but no one raised an objection.
Back home, Esther had been waiting for a long time. Seeing Lu Chuan's exhausted look, she didn't ask about the game, just silently handed him a cup of hot tea.
"Want to talk about it?" Esther asked softly.
Lu Chuan shook his head, then nodded. He slumped onto the sofa, closing his eyes. "We need to change, but I don't know where to start."
Esther sat beside him, gently stroking his back. "Perhaps, by facing the truth?"
Lu Chuan opened his eyes, a glint flashing within them. He suddenly sat upright and pulled out his laptop. "You're right, start with the truth."
All night, Lu Chuan watched replays of the past four losing matches. He edited out every goal conceded, marking each person's position and responsibility.
At dawn, Esther found him still sitting in front of the computer, his eyes bloodshot.
"You need to rest." She frowned worriedly.
"No time." Lu Chuan rubbed his eyes, "We only have two games left. It's either change or die."
At exactly nine o'clock, the conference room was filled with players. No one spoke, the atmosphere so heavy it was almost suffocating.
Lu Chuan walked in, holding a USB drive. He inserted the USB drive into the projector, and the screen lit up.
"Four consecutive losses." His voice was calm, but his gaze was as sharp as a knife, "We need to know why."
On the screen, the first goal conceded began to play.
It was against Huesca, where defensive midfielder Comesaña made a crucial mistake, leading to the opponent scoring.
The video paused, and Lu Chuan turned to Comesaña. "Santi, can you explain the situation at that moment?"
The conference room was silent. Everyone held their breath; this direct way of confronting mistakes was unprecedented in the team's history.
Comesaña slowly stood up, a hint of embarrassment and unease flashing across his face.
"I... I misjudged. I thought he would pass, so I moved early to intercept the passing lane."
"Yes, a misjudgment." Lu Chuan nodded, "But more importantly, why the misjudgment?"
Comesaña was silent for a moment. "I was too eager to perform. We were passive in that game, and I wanted to change the situation with a tackle."
Lu Chuan didn't accuse, he just repeated the sentence.
"Too eager to perform... That's precisely our problem right now. Everyone wants to be a hero, but they've forgotten that we are a team."
Over the next two hours, every goal conceded was analyzed in detail.
Every player responsible for a goal conceded was asked to stand up and face their mistake.
The atmosphere was at times very awkward, even somewhat tense. Young Pascual's eyes reddened after being called out for a defensive positioning error.
"That's not fair!" he suddenly raised his voice, "Núñez is a world-class striker, no one can defend him!"
The conference room erupted in an uproar.
Lu Chuan didn't respond immediately, but instead played the next video—one of his own defensive errors in a game, which led to the opponent getting a one-on-one chance.
"This is my mistake." Lu Chuan pointed at the screen, his voice calm,
"I could have run faster, I could have anticipated his run earlier. But I didn't, because I was too focused on offense and neglected my defensive responsibilities."
His self-criticism brought silence back to the conference room.
"This isn't about fair or unfair, Martín." Lu Chuan looked at Pascual, "This is about admitting mistakes and then improving. No one is perfect, including me."
Pascual lowered his head, the anger on his face replaced by shame.
Trejo was the first to voluntarily stand up. As a team veteran, his actions set an example.
"I'm also responsible." He pointed to his defensive mispositioning during a set piece,
"I should have marked my man there, but I was fooled by the opponent's feint. This isn't a technical issue, it's a concentration issue."
Suárez followed closely. This veteran, who once played for Madrid, was highly respected within the team.
"My organization in midfield was too slow." He admitted his performance against Almería,
"I should have passed the ball out faster, creating more opportunities for the front field."
The veterans' honesty broke the deadlock in the conference room. One by one, teammates began to voluntarily stand up, admitting their mistakes and shortcomings.
"My crossing accuracy isn't good enough."
"My positioning was too conservative."
"I hesitated in defense."
Every self-criticism was like a brick, slowly building a high wall of trust and unity.
Finally, Lu Chuan stood before everyone, his eyes gleaming with firm resolve.
"We all made mistakes, but more importantly, we are willing to face these mistakes."
He looked around at each teammate, "We still have two games, still a chance to enter the playoffs. But first, we must change."
He took a deep breath, his voice growing even firmer.
"I know everyone is following my continuous goal-scoring record.
It's 17 games now, and the media are all guessing how long I can keep it up." Lu Chuan's gaze swept over everyone,
"But I want to tell everyone, this record is meaningless to me, because the team is continuously losing."
The conference room was silent; everyone held their breath, listening.
"From now on, I promise everyone that I would rather my record be broken than to not secure a victory for the team.
Because only victory can take us into the playoffs, and only then will we have a chance to challenge for La Liga."
These words struck everyone' like a bolt of lightning. For the first time, they truly realized that Lu Chuan had completely placed personal honor below team interests.
Trejo was the first to stand up, walked over to Lu Chuan, and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"We'll fight with you, Captain."
One by one, teammates stood up and formed a circle. Everyone stacked their hands together, forming an unbreakable fortress.
"For Rayo Vallecano!" Lu Chuan shouted loudly.
"For Rayo Vallecano!" Everyone responded in unison, their voices echoing in the conference room.
After the meeting, Assistant Coach Juan relayed the content of the meeting to Paco Jémez, who was serving a suspension.
"You should see them, Paco." Juan's voice was filled with excitement,
"That's not a group of lost players, but a real team. Lu Chuan has completely taken control of the situation."
On the other end of the phone, Paco sighed deeply. "He's grown up. This team can be completely entrusted to him."
In the evening, Lu Chuan returned home exhausted. Esther had already prepared dinner; although simple, it was full of warmth.
"How was it?" she asked softly, serving Lu Chuan a bowl of soup.
"I don't know." Lu Chuan shook his head, "But at least, we've started to face the problems."
Esther smiled and sat opposite him. "You know what? My father watched your game replay again today.
He said you're the most responsible young man he's ever seen."
Lu Chuan gave a wry smile. "What's so responsible about a captain who's lost four games in a row?"
"It's precisely because you didn't shy away in the most difficult times." Esther reached out and held his hand, "That's true responsibility."
She suddenly winked, her tone becoming lighter. "Oh, by the way, I have an idea.
Once you lead the team to victory, I'll learn your favorite Chinese dish and cook it to celebrate for you. How about it?"
Lu Chuan finally smiled, the fatigue in his eyes replaced by a hint of warmth. "Are you sure? Last time you made a Spanish omelet, I remember you almost burned down the kitchen."
"Hey! That was an accident!" Esther pretended to be angry and playfully slapped him, "And, for you, I'm willing to burn down the kitchen again."
The two smiled at each other; this small promise became another motivation for Lu Chuan's efforts.
During the subsequent training, the team's atmosphere was noticeably different.
Everyone was more focused, more united. That 'trial-like' meeting was like a spiritual cleansing, allowing everyone to rediscover their fighting spirit.
Lu Chuan and the coaching staff studied the information on their next two opponents.
Las Palmas and Racing de Santander were not particularly strong teams, but this Rayo Vallecano team, on a losing streak, had lost any right to underestimate anyone.
"We must go all out." Lu Chuan analyzed in front of the tactics board, "Play every game as if it were a final."
The night before the match, Lu Chuan received unexpected news. Elche's match was played earlier, and they were unexpectedly held to a draw by their opponent.
This meant that as long as Rayo Vallecano could secure one victory in their remaining two matches, they would guarantee a playoff spot.
The key to destiny seemed to be back in their own hands.
Lu Chuan shared this news with his teammates. A cheer erupted in the conference room, but it quickly quieted down.
"This is not the time to celebrate." Trejo reminded everyone, "We haven't won yet."
Lu Chuan nodded, looking around at each teammate. "Tomorrow, we must win. Not for anything else, but for ourselves, for the dignity of this team."
Late into the night, the training ground gradually quieted down. Lu Chuan was the last to leave, standing in the middle of the empty stadium, looking up at the starry sky.
The shadow of the four consecutive losses still lingered, but dawn was not far off.
Tomorrow, they would face the most crucial battle of the season. Win or die.
And he had to lead the team to victory.