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... stared at Miles, his mouth slightly agape as his mind tried to process what he'd just heard.

"Level one?" he echoed, disbelief etched into his voice. "You're kidding, right? Just a while ago, you were out there fighting like you were twice my level!"

Miles didn't answer immediately. His brow furrowed as he scrolled through his system window, his expression a twisted mix of shock and disbelief.

"I wish I was, Dee..." Miles finally said, his voice low.

"But... how? ...

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“Mr. Hu Lai, today’s football forwards like you who can only score goals are getting narrower and narrower … But nevertheless, you have achieved dazzling achievements. What is your secret to success?”

On a winter afternoon, Hu Lai showed reporters from all over the world the honor he had just received, and some reporters asked him such questions.

Facing the eyes cast by the reporters, Hu Lai’s thoughts returned to the afternoon when he was in high school. He stood alone beside the stadium to watch other students play games. They did not let him play, thinking he was here to make trouble.

He also thought of what the coach said to him with a straight face: “Hu Lai, if you can’t pay ten times the effort of others, your talent is just worthless stones.” And a disdainful voice: “Modern football The demands on the center are getting higher and more comprehensive. What’s the use of shooting only? ”

In the end, his thoughts were frozen at that time, and the night was already looming in the eastern sky. In the middle of the abandoned vacant land covered with grass, a girl said to him very seriously: “Hu Lai, you are actually gifted. , And a great talent! Because you know where the goal is! ”
Hu Lai stared at the girl’s eyes, and saw the sunset behind him from those eyes.

The sunlight is reflected in the pupils, flowing, burning, condensing into a halo, as if to melt yourself in this light.

Hu Lai, who withdrew his thoughts, returned to this warm winter afternoon, facing the excited reporters, he smiled slightly: “Because I know, the goal is there.”

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Every Thursday at midnight, tune the FM button. Behind a blank hiss, maybe you will hear a broadcast like this: “Welcome to Midnight Radio Station “Thriller Night Talk”. This is the anchor Bei Quan. Please tell us about your story; no matter how bizarre it is.”

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Wei Fuyuan: Ah, ah, don’t come near me! The young master doesn’t like women’s ghosts. Don’t get me… Eat my righteous face-breaking fist!

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