Chapter 5: The Beginning of Returning to the Bench

"Zhouzhou, after all these years, you still haven't forgiven me. Have you even given up on volleyball?" Ning Xu's words echoed through the hallway, pricking Ning Zhou's heart with a dull ache.

After the echo faded, only silence remained.

Zhouzhou:

When I saw the news of your retirement, I bought a bouquet of sunflowers.

I'm sorry—I didn't have the courage to give them to you in person. I know I'm the last person you want to see right now.

I placed the flowers in the vase on the windowsill of your rehabilitation room.

May every day ahead be filled with new joys. I wish you health, happiness, and peace in your future.

From, Ning Xu

After Ning Zhou retired, he received only two messages, one of which was from the foster father with whom he'd become virtually strangers in adulthood.

He had read those two messages countless times, each word etched deeply in his mind.

Pulling himself from these thoughts, Ning Zhou rubbed the tip of his nose and forced a relaxed smile.

"I'll never give up on volleyball!"

Ning Xu was momentarily stunned by his smile, then quickly looked away.

"Good... Trying out a variety show isn't bad. You've been training too hard lately—rest and work should go hand in hand."

So, however long he'd been training, Ning Xu had been quietly watching for just as long?

Ning Zhou's gaze paused on the strands of white hair at Ning Xu's temples. He swallowed his emotions and whispered, "Alright. I'll head back now."

He left quickly, turning the corner to escape that watchful gaze before finally letting out a breath.

Signing the contract took quite some time, and by the time Ning Zhou returned to the dorm, Nie Feiang had already finished extra practice and was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste foam.

"Hmm? Why are you back so late?"

Ning Zhou changed clothes as he replied casually, "Went to sign up for a variety show."

"Oh." Nie Feiang kept brushing for a few seconds, then suddenly realized what had been said. His eyes widened in the mirror.

"What!?"

A piercing scream erupted from the bathroom. Ning Zhou, well-prepared, covered his ears just in time.

"Finish brushing before you speak, or you'll spray foam all over the mirror!"

Having predicted Nie Feiang's reaction, Ning Zhou watched him sheepishly wipe the mirror and rinse out his mouth. Then, in a flash, Nie Feiang dashed out as if racing to the canteen for food.

"Ning Zhou, are you going into showbiz!?"

Ning Zhou waved him off. "That's exaggerated. The original guest dropped out, so they asked me to fill in—nothing more."

Nie Feiang scratched his head. "But aren't we in closed training? Why did you agree to film a show?"

"For money."

"...Money?"

"Yeah! All my league bonuses went straight to college tuition, and our training wages are low. Going on the show is just a short-term side gig. I want to save up a bit."

Ning Zhou couldn't be sure if, in this life, he could change the outcome of his finger injury. Surgery and rehabilitation would cost a fortune.

In his previous life, he could rely on the national team's salary and medical subsidies, but now that he'd decided to give up, making the national team was unlikely.

Money—he needed it.

His bank balance was his last piece of security.

"Uh... Anyway, you're going to be on TV! I knew the moment I saw your face this would happen one day!"

Nie Feiang was more excited than the person involved. "What show is it? The hottest reality show right now?"

"It's a new sports variety show—‘Sports Forward!’"

Nie Feiang repeated the name a few times, then his expression changed.

"Wait, something's off! That name sounds like one of those obstacle shows where you win a refrigerator. You didn't get scammed, did you?"

"I told you, it's a new program. The coaching staff approved it."

Nie Feiang grinned. "Who cares? With your looks, you'd get famous even on an obstacle show! Ning Zhou, give me your autograph!"

Ning Zhou had hoped to use this quiet evening to reflect on his rebirth.

He'd miscalculated!

With Nie Feiang as a roommate, there was simply no chance for peace.

Ning Zhou's head throbbed from the constant calls of "Good Ning Zhou." He put on a stern face and threatened, "If you don't go to sleep, I'll turn back into the old me!"

Nie Feiang immediately shrank back onto his bed like a quail. Within minutes, the steady sound of breathing came from the upper bunk.

Ning Zhou: ...

The speed at which care-free people fall asleep is truly astonishing.

Ning Zhou turned on his night lamp, fished his phone from under the pillow.

At twenty, his WeChat list consisted only of a few volleyball groups, with pitifully few chat records.

The contact from "Sports Forward" sent a friend request. Upon accepting, he received a message almost immediately: "Ning Zhou, the show's official account is about to announce the cast. What's your Weibo handle?"

Ning Zhou hesitated. If he replied, "I don't have a Weibo," would that make things worse for the already overworked staffer?

Not wanting to add to their workload, he hurriedly downloaded the app.

In both his lifetimes, he'd never used this software.

He typed "Ning Zhou" into the username field, only to be told it was already taken.

With no reply, the variety show contact sent a few emojis to hurry him along.

Struggling to come up with a username, Ning Zhou thought: Whatever, anything will do...

And so, on the first night of his rebirth, an account named "Ning Zhou Not Taken" was born.

The course of fate was shifting quietly.

*

"Training's been underway for a week now. I'm sure all of you have gained something!"

"From the second week on, in addition to the regular training, there will be competitions, and everyone will have a chance to play!"

Coach Luo was nearly sixty, but his voice still rang loud and clear. Every player in line could hear him.

An assistant coach jogged past behind him, the resulting breeze ruffling a few strands of hair on Luo's forehead.

The lecture abruptly paused.

Assistant Coach Ning Xu, standing beside him, glanced over to see Luo solemnly producing a tiny wooden comb from somewhere, carefully tidying his hair.

That little comb gleamed with use—a treasured possession, clearly.

Ning Zhou was used to it. In his five years with the national team, he'd never heard of Coach Luo having any hobby besides fussing over his hair.

The players around them struggled to suppress their laughter, whispering to one another:

"Incredible—only when Coach Luo's thinking about his hair does that fox-like smile disappear."

"What's there even to fix? He's almost bald!"

"You don't get it—those wispy bangs are Coach Luo's last bit of dignity..."

Wispy bangs?

Ning Zhou peered through the tall players ahead, stealthily studying Coach Luo's "hairstyle"—if it could be called that.

Coach Luo's hair loss was severe. To hide the bald spot, he grew the hair at the back long and flipped it forward to cover the shiny area, letting it hang to his brow.

The sparse hair drifted across his forehead—indeed, it did have a "wispy fringe" effect.

Oh no, once you accept this idea...

Ning Zhou quickly ducked back, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Assistant Coach Ning Xu gave a couple of pointed coughs, and the commotion in the ranks vanished at once.

Coach Luo, satisfied with his "wispy fringe," resumed business.

"Among the training camp roster, two players have just rejoined us. Step out and introduce yourselves!"

At this, the low buzz started up again.

Yu Bai stepped out from the last row, his sharp gaze silencing the ranks instantly.

No one wanted to provoke this raw newcomer who might throw punches at any moment.

He'd even dared to go up against the previous team's main setter, Shao Qiu—anyone caught in his sights was in for trouble.

With broad shoulders, long legs, and wrists that hung past his hips, Yu Bai stood next to Coach Luo, exuding a fierce presence.

"My name is Yu Bai, position: outside hitter. I was late joining the camp because of a basketball tournament."

In other words: There was a reason for my delay, so the baseless rumors should stop.

Behind him, Shao Qiu clicked his tongue, only to be nudged by Du Jun.

"No more infighting. Coach Luo recruited him himself—he's fine."

"I know!" Shao Qiu gritted his teeth. "I just can't stand his arrogance. With all these national team veterans, who does he think he is?"

"You saw his spikes in yesterday's scrimmage. Barring surprises, he'll be a starter. You'd better smooth things over and work with him."

"I'll try."

"And that setter from the scrimmage..."

"No need to pay attention to him!" Shao Qiu interrupted, certain. "We underestimated him yesterday—otherwise, he wouldn't have had a chance."

Du Jun pondered for a moment. "True. With Coach Luo's selection standards, there's no way he'd make the national team."

...

Coach Luo eyed Yu Bai's physique with evident satisfaction. It had been years since he'd encountered such a natural talent.

"Introduce yourself and return to the lineup."

Yu Bai nodded in acknowledgment.

Before rejoining the ranks, his gaze slipped between two players in the front row, landing directly on Ning Zhou.

The players: Oh no, the unlucky one has been targeted by the violent newcomer...

Ning Zhou: Oh no, he's not going to grab my fingers again, is he...

Thankfully, Yu Bai only glanced over—nothing happened.

"The other player returning to camp, step out!"

"Yes, sir!"

A player about 1.8 meters tall strode forward, carefree, with a pair of prominent ears that made him instantly likable.

"Hello, everyone! I'm Ning Yang, libero. I took a few days off for a cold, but rest assured, I'm one hundred percent recovered. Absolutely won't infect anyone!"

As soon as the name "Ning Yang" was mentioned, Ning Zhou felt the subtle, sidelong glances from those around him.

"Ning Yang! The best libero in the domestic league right now!"

"I heard he's only twenty—what a future!"

"He's one of Assistant Coach Ning Xu's adopted sons, just like that short setter. The media used to report that Coach Ning took in two prodigies."

"Ning Yang is definitely a talent, but what about Ning Zhou?"

"In yesterday's scrimmage, Ning Zhou's serves were unique, but I didn't see anything else special..."

"Maybe his talent is luck—he happened to find openings several times yesterday. I'm jealous!"

"Compared to Ning Yang, Ning Zhou is just too ordinary. No wonder people say Ning Zhou only made the training camp thanks to connections, but no one gossips about Ning Yang, haha!"

They made no effort to lower their voices, as if speaking directly for Ning Zhou to hear.

Everyone present was desperate to impress the coaching staff, and in yesterday's scrimmage, Coach Luo had specifically called on Ning Zhou.

Many had opinions about the silent, hardworking, but undersized setter.

The most outspoken critic just happened to be standing behind Ning Zhou, sneering non-stop.

He kept his volume just right—so Ning Zhou could hear every word, but not the coaches.

The same tired lines, over and over. Ning Zhou was bored.

Rule one of giving up: Never provoke trouble, but if you let trouble fester, it'll climb all over you.

With this in mind, Ning Zhou turned around.

"Can you be quiet? I can't even hear the coach."

The guy behind him, half a head taller, looked down his nose at Ning Zhou.

"Struck a nerve, did I?"