Chapter Thirty-Four: A Minor Trouble

As Wang Lei devoted himself entirely to selecting players at the border, his online fame began to wane. Although his two songs had shown many people the multifaceted talents of this former basketball prodigy, Wang Lei was ultimately not a figure from the entertainment industry. Without a management company to boost his reputation, even if he occasionally posted photos and updates on SwiftCast, and routinely flaunted his affection for Ma Dongmei to feed the gossip-hungry masses, his popularity visibly declined.

Fortunately, Ma Dongmei herself had become quite famous. As the goddess of the new generation of women’s volleyball, her rather ordinary name lent her a unique charm. After hearing countless elegant names, hers—reminiscent of a potato dumpling—actually sounded refreshingly straightforward. Thus, thanks to the ongoing interactions between Ma Dongmei and Wang Lei online, his follower count on SwiftCast remained steady at around a hundred thousand.

This, however, gave certain fans—those drawn to Ma Dongmei's looks—more ammunition to disparage Wang Lei, as it seemed he was relying on her fame.

By November, the first snow had already fallen in the borderlands, and temperatures dropped rapidly. Yet Wang Lei found it unexpectedly mild, even though the thermometer showed subzero readings. As long as the sun was out, it was warm enough to go out in a shirt and a thick jacket.

Over nearly a month, Wang Lei and his two companions managed to visit every university in Urumqi, though they inevitably missed some games due to overlapping schedules. By the end, Aili Maimaiti’s notebook listed over fifty names—the players Wang Lei had decided to invite next. He boldly cast a wide net, even selecting two players barely taller than 1.7 meters, to the confusion of Aili and Xue Yongjiang, who believed such short players could never make it onto the court.

Indeed, the prevailing basketball philosophy in both the Republic and worldwide emphasized inside play and defense, with the maxim that defense wins championships. In the eyes of Aili and Xue Yongjiang, players around 1.7 meters were defensive liabilities, likely to be mercilessly exploited in any game.

“All right, these twenty-odd days have been tough on you both. Your wages should already be deposited from the Sports Administration Center, so I won't meddle there. But in a few days, I'll be giving you bonuses.”

Just as Xue Yongjiang was considering resignation to pursue a career in food service, Wang Lei timely dangled the prospect of bonuses.

Aili and Xue Yongjiang each held a thick stack of bills, their bright colors impossible to ignore. They weren’t strangers to money, but receiving nearly seven or eight thousand in bonuses in their first month on the job left them momentarily dumbfounded.

"You—?"

Xue Yongjiang looked at Wang Lei in disbelief, suspecting Wang Lei was about to quit.

“Don’t overthink it, and don’t let your mind wander. Admittedly, we’re a bit of a ragtag outfit, and although everything else can be patched together, it’s simply wrong if hard work doesn’t yield proper rewards. I have a principle: it’s better to share happiness than to enjoy it alone. Take the money; it won’t burn your hands.”

“What about in the future?”

“In the future, the monthly bonus won’t fall below this standard, but there’s one condition: the work must be done thoroughly. I won’t make unreasonable demands, but I expect the ones I do make to be faithfully carried out.”

Aili said nothing, but immediately took his notebook and began bookkeeping, recording Wang Lei’s words in full. One had to admit, this young Uyghur man was perceptive, steady, and quiet—qualities Wang Lei valued.

As for Xue Yongjiang, he rubbed the bills between his fingers, torn by indecision. Wang Lei’s direct gesture of handing out money made it hard for him to walk away. Compared to the distant dreams of a food-service career, the cash in hand seemed much more tangible.

“Brother Xue, I know you’ve had your differences with me this past month, but I think you should stay. At the very least, you’ll see what I plan to do next. And if I end up slinking away in disgrace, you’ll have the chance to really put me in my place. What do you think?”

“Lei, listen to yourself. Honestly, I think your approach is a bit off, but all right—since you’ve spoken so frankly, I’ll stay, if only for the sake of what’s right here. Don’t call me vulgar; truthfully, most people live for this sort of thing.”

Someone in their forties is certainly less inclined to pursue dreams with youthful fervor, but life’s trials have taught them that ideals are not always realized, and reality is preferable.

With Xue Yongjiang settled, Wang Lei was ready for the next phase: sending Xue Yongjiang and Aili out to invite players from various universities. Whoever could come, should come; whoever couldn’t, they’d find a way to “convince” them. This was Wang Lei’s rule for his two assistants.

Wang Lei himself needed to return inland to resolve the coaching issue. After all, once the team was assembled, they couldn’t function without a coach; the three of them alone weren’t enough to keep the team running. Wang Lei planned to contact his former teammates and visit some sports schools, not demanding prior experience—so long as communication and professional skill were adequate.

After agreeing on their division of labor, Wang Lei decided to treat his two assistants to a proper meal. Roasted whole lamb from the border regions was renowned, but they’d been too busy for the past month. With more work ahead, today was their only chance to enjoy it.

The three left the training base, intending to hail a taxi to the restaurant they’d booked. But as soon as they stepped outside, they were stopped.

Only one person blocked their path—a young Uyghur woman, beautiful and striking, dressed in somewhat worn clothing with a heavy, greasy aroma. Clearly, she came from a modest background and worked in a restaurant.

“Are you the coach? Who’s your coach?”

Her Mandarin was heavily accented.

“We’re all coaches. Which one are you looking for?”

Wang Lei didn’t turn her away. Beauty is sometimes a universal passport; even without ulterior motives, it’s hard for anyone to refuse a few extra words with such a girl.

“My brother, he’s really good at basketball. Do you want my brother?”

Trouble, Wang Lei thought, regretting his earlier openness. The saying of the world’s “Big Jin” rang true—beauty can indeed deceive.