Chapter 043: Lip Tea

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"Inspector, what kind of tea did the homeroom teacher invite you to drink?"
On the playground, players running about spotted Zhang Tan changing into his jersey and jogging over, and hurriedly asked with a smile.
Zhang Tan was juggling the ball by the edge of the field, replying absentmindedly, "Ever heard of Lip Tea?"
"What?"
"Xinyang Maojian, the imperial tribute tea of every dynasty. The freshest buds are picked using the lips of virgins, then stored against their chest, where the virgin's body heat gives them their first roasting. It's also called Fragrant Milk Tea. Oh, and the tea-picking virgins must be at least a C cup to be certified."
"Ha, Inspector, you must be thinking about women! What a story."
"Believe it or not."
Zhang Tan casually spun his tale for the curious crowd, then dove into the heated football training. It was called training, but really it was a match against Class Six of the first year. In this era, especially at rural high schools, students were passionate about football, but lacked real technique or game sense, and had little time to play.
If the game wasn't a total mess, that was already lucky.
These two years would be the last glory days of Chinese football. It was foreseeable that football would remain popular for a while longer.
Just two days ago, the national team had, in Abu Dhabi, relied on Qi Hong's shot to defeat the United Arab Emirates 1-0, theoretically putting one foot into the World Cup finals. In Group A of the Asian Top Ten, as long as the next match—back home at Shenyang Wukesong Stadium against Oman—was won, China would advance to the Korea-Japan World Cup next year.
In fact, there were three rounds left in the Asian Top Ten. If China won just one game, they'd earn a ticket to the finals. The three opponents—Oman, Qatar, Uzbekistan—weren't strong; it was impossible not to win at least one.
When the news of qualification came from Shenyang Wukesong on October 7th, the whole country would celebrate, and the football tournament at Shuangdun Middle School would inevitably reach a fever pitch.
"Pass it here, pass it here!" Zhang Tan, agile and swift, slipped past the opposing defenders, found an open space, and raised his hand for the ball.
Zhu Ran passed it over.
The pass was a bit wide, but Zhang Tan was quick. He caught up with an explosive stride, flicked his ankle, dodging a dangerous, clumsy sliding tackle.
He adjusted his stance, swung his thigh like a hammer.
Thud!
His instep struck the lower side of the ball hard, sending it spinning toward the goal, flying between two bamboo poles.
The goalkeeper for Class Six, Gao Ming, lived up to his name—he was tall, over six feet, and played basketball handsomely. But against Zhang Tan's powerful shot, he was helpless, watching as the ball grazed the bamboo pole and flew into the goal.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAL!"
The background should have featured Huang Jianxiang's roar.

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The ball was in.
Zhang Tan clenched his fist fiercely.
His youthful body, reborn and nourished by recent feasting, felt increasingly robust, without the heaviness of a thirty-year-old. Moves he never dared attempt before, now he could try; his football skills soared by leaps and bounds.
It felt wonderful, powerful.
His confidence in winning the championship grew. There was no high-level competition here—this was barely amateur—one person's brilliance could decide the outcome. Zhang Tan was confident he could lead Class Five to the title.
With newfound confidence, Zhang Tan exploded on the field, scoring four goals in a row, leaving Class Six stunned.
"Inspector, did you take some aphrodisiac? You're unstoppable!" Xu Weidong panted, looking at Zhang Tan. He had scored twice, but compared to Zhang Tan, he was far behind.
"I'm in the zone. This year's championship is reserved for Class Five."
"Don't brag. Wait till the real match, then you'll see what our class can do. This is just a warm-up!"
"Heh."
That single "heh" carried contempt, evident to all.
After sweating it out, he returned to the classroom.
He lay on his desk and took a nap.
When he woke, the teacher had arrived—Liu Fei, the geography teacher.
Zhang Tan unfolded his draft paper and began writing his novel. Learning from Luo Jinsong's lesson, he wrote for a while, then looked up at the blackboard, pretending to listen intently: nodding, frowning, deep in thought.
Cao Yuchuan, not very focused in class, glanced at the blackboard, then at Zhang Tan's draft. "Inspector, aren't you writing a novel?"
"Yeah."
"What are you writing?"
"A self-criticism?"
"What?" Cao Yuchuan asked curiously, "Let me see."
"What's so interesting about a self-criticism?" Despite his words, Zhang Tan handed it over.

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On the draft, lines of beautiful penmanship were visible.
"Respected Teacher Luo Jinsong: Today, with overwhelming guilt and regret, I write this self-criticism to reflect on my mistakes in class..."
"Luo Jinsong made you write this?"
"Yu Na. I'm giving Yu Na respect."
Indeed, Yu Na had asked Zhang Tan to write it. A step back for peace, giving Luo Jinsong a way out, then Yu Na would inform Luo not to interfere with Zhang Tan anymore. At lunchtime, they talked for a while, and Zhang Tan finally persuaded Yu Na to grant him full self-study rights, as long as he didn't disturb others.
Actually, Zhang Tan had thought Yu Na wouldn't agree.
He was prepared that, if negotiations failed, he might simply drop out. But Yu Na surprisingly consented. He could continue studying, not hinder his novel writing, and could take leave as needed. Zhang Tan had no reason to leave school. If he really did, his parents would be hard to face.
...
The ripples at Shuangdun Middle School were barely noticeable.
Zhang Tan's performance was merely that of a somewhat proud genius.
But outside, this small pebble he tossed sent wave after wave across the waters.
Xu Zhiyou was a fan of novels, especially those eclectic popular stories, most of all martial arts fiction. He used to buy pirated Hong Kong martial arts novels from street stalls to satisfy his cravings. A year ago, he discovered "Legend of Today and Ancient Times: Stories Edition," and instantly fell in love with this booklet filled with folk tales and unofficial histories.
Especially since it often featured a few short martial arts stories, each full of flavor.
Today was no exception. Xu Zhiyou bought the latest issue, No. 13 of "Legend of Today and Ancient Times: Stories Edition," and immediately flipped to the table of contents, searching for martial arts stories.
And sure enough, he found one.
"The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast?" Xu Zhiyou's eyes lit up. Still walking, he couldn't wait to read.
"He once shattered the notorious Sandstorm Seventy-Six Riders in the vast desert; in the icy depths of Black Dragon River, he captured the murderous Rolling Dragon King Xue You. He has lain in ambush for a day and night in a place hot enough to cook eggs; and rampaged a thousand miles through the fearsome Kamanragalevia Valley. He served as an official before whom even the governors of seven provinces bowed, and as an undercover, worked as a butcher in the marketplace. He has killed, and he has saved lives. Now, he willingly serves under the person he admires most..."
"Wow, who is this person, so formidable?" Xu Zhiyou was instantly drawn in. He had read many martial arts novels, all sorts of openings, but he had to admit, this was the most exhilarating.
A few brief sentences conjured before him a pine-straight hero, eyes weathered by life, a beard rough on his chin, calloused hands gripping a blade.
In short, this person was amazing—truly amazing!
He couldn't wait to read on, to find out who this person was, and what wondrous stories awaited.