Dusk in Madrid painted the sky rose gold, and Lu Chuan sat at his desk checking emails.
Suddenly, an encrypted email popped up on the screen. The sender was Carlos, but the subject line made him freeze: "A Message from Your Father."
Lu Chuan frowned and opened the email. The page contained only an audio file, nearly ten minutes long. He put on his headphones and pressed play.
His father's familiar voice came through the headphones, carrying a long-lost warmth and a hint of cautiousness:
"Son, I know you don't want to hear any news about domestic football, but this time it's different."
Lu Chuan's body stiffened slightly.
"The public opinion environment at home has changed; the voices supporting you are growing louder.
Those righteous fans and media are all speaking out for you." His father's voice trembled slightly. "Even within the Football Association, after the new leadership took office, they began to reflect and reform."
Lu Chuan's hand clenched into a fist.
"A highly respected veteran of the football world, he watched all your match videos and said you are the most talented player he has ever seen."
His father paused, "He, at my request, hopes to talk with you. It's not an official contact; he just wants to hear your thoughts."
The recording ended, and the room fell into silence.
Lu Chuan took off his headphones and closed his eyes.
The words "Football Association" pierced his heart like nails, and the humiliation of his previous life instantly flooded his mind—those indifferent faces, those high-and-mighty officials, those unfair treatments that made him completely lose hope.
"Damn it," he cursed softly, getting up and walking to the balcony.
The streets of Madrid were still empty, but his heart was more chaotic than ever.
In this life, he had already broken with that corrupt system, so why did he have to face it again now?
"My dear, what's wrong?" Esther walked out of the kitchen, holding two cups of coffee.
Lu Chuan took the coffee and told her everything about his father's recording and his own struggles. Esther listened quietly, her golden hair shimmering in the sunset.
"Do you want to hear my opinion?" Esther gently stroked his hand.
Lu Chuan nodded.
"I won't persuade you to make any decision," Esther's voice was soft,
"But I want to ask you a question—playing for your country, was that truly your original dream, wasn't it?"
These words struck the softest part of Lu Chuan's heart.
The excitement of watching the World Cup for the first time as a child, the pride of kicking a ball in the yard wearing a China team jersey, the passion of dreaming of scoring for his homeland one day—those beautiful memories flooded back instantly.
He had lived another life, conquered the fields of Spain, and won countless honors, but one of his biggest regrets was never wearing that red jersey.
"I..." Lu Chuan's voice was a little choked.
Esther said nothing more, just quietly embraced him. She knew that this decision could only be made by him.
Three days later, arranged by his parents and Carlos, Lu Chuan had a video call with the veteran of the football world.
On the screen appeared an old man with silver hair but a vigorous spirit, his eyes still sparkling with a love for football.
"Xiao Chuan, I watched all your match videos," the veteran's voice was steady and strong, "The way you play reminds me of myself when I was young."
Lu Chuan politely nodded: "You flatter me, senior."
"No, that's not polite talk," the veteran waved his hand, "Do you know? My biggest regret in this life is not being able to lead Chinese football further."
The old man began to recount the history of Chinese football—from the earliest players studying abroad,
to the excitement of breaking out of Asia for the first time, and then to the later decline and setbacks. Every story was full of blood and tears, and every piece of history carried the dreams of countless people.
"Our generation paid everything for Chinese football," tears welled up in the veteran's eyes, "Some even paid with their lives. But we never regretted it, because we knew that one day someone would take over our banner."
Lu Chuan listened intently, and the ice in his heart began to melt.
"Child, I know you've been wronged," the veteran's tone softened, "Those who disappointed you make all of us who truly love football feel guilty."
Lu Chuan lowered his head, not daring to look directly into the old man's eyes.
"But a true lone brave doesn't choose to escape and break away."
The veteran's voice became firm and powerful, "Instead, after recognizing the darkness, he still chooses to immerse himself in it and become the light that changes it."
Lu Chuan trembled all over; the veteran's words left him unsettled for a long time.
After the call ended, Lu Chuan sat on the sofa in a daze. Esther silently sat beside him, not disturbing his thoughts.
In the evening, his mother's video call came in.
"Son," his mother's eyes were moist, "Mom doesn't ask you to be rich and famous, I just hope that in my lifetime, I can see you on the international stage, wearing that red jersey."
His mother cried, tears streaming down her cheeks: "You are Mom's pride, but how wonderful would it be if you could bring honor to our country."
Lu Chuan's defenses completely collapsed.
The dual impact of family affection and dreams made him realize that his previous break, while satisfying, was indeed a form of escape.
A true brave should face the darkness and try to change it, rather than choosing to turn away.
"Carlos," Lu Chuan dialed his agent's number.
"Lu, have you made up your mind?"
"I am willing to have unofficial contact with the Football Association," Lu Chuan's voice was firm, "But I have my bottom line and principles; I will never compromise."
"Understood. I will convey your message."
"Also, tell them I need to see substantive reform actions, not just empty words."
After hanging up the phone, Lu Chuan found that the system had not issued any tasks or given any prompts.
This made him realize that the system was testing him, to see how he would face his truest choice without the guidance of a golden finger.
Two days later, Carlos's phone rang again.
"Lu, they have agreed to all your conditions," Carlos's voice was excited, "The new Football Association leadership hopes to personally come to Madrid to meet with you after the season ends."
"Also, they expressed understanding of your concerns and are willing to prove their determination for reform with practical actions."
Lu Chuan gripped his phone: "I understand."
"Lu, do you know?" Carlos's voice became emotional, "You are changing things."
Hanging up the phone, Lu Chuan walked to his desk, his gaze falling on the upcoming schedule for the resumption of the season.
The first match was against Albacete, followed by an away challenge against league leaders Cádiz.
His eyes became deeper. Whether it was club matches or a possible future national team journey, he had to prove his worth with his strength.
"My dear, dinner is ready," Esther called from the dining room.
Lu Chuan put away his complex feelings and walked to the dining room. Esther had already set out a lavish Spanish paella and lit candles.
"To celebrate you making the right decision," Esther raised her glass.
"How do you know this is right?"
"Because this is what you truly want in your heart," Esther winked, "And, I want to see you in a China team jersey; you'll look very handsome."
Lu Chuan smiled, his first genuine smile in days.
Lu Chuan's smile was relaxed and open.
He looked at Esther, then at the night view outside the window, and he already had the answer in his heart. There was more than one path forward, but he chose the most difficult and most worthwhile one.
Whether on Rayo Vallecano's green field or in a possible national team journey, he would be the one to change everything.
"System," he thought to himself, "Show me the optimal training plan for tomorrow."
It was time to make the final preparations for the upcoming battles.