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"I still prefer your rebellious stance from earlier when you were critiquing the manuscript, switching between 'the writing is incorrect' and 'the skin is too thick.' Bring that back."

There was a hint of personal grudge in Zhou Xuan's words.

Yuan Buyu had no rebelliousness left, just flattery.

He grinned obsequiously, "I tend to be a bit impulsive; sometimes my mouth runs away with me. Little Class Leader, lend me the manuscript for a look-over; it's indeed ...

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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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