Chapter Sixty-One: Returning Home for the New Year

“Don’t think I’m being naggy—remember what Coach Eric told you. You all should know by now what you can eat, what you can’t, and what you should eat less of. That’s just how it is for athletes. If you want to achieve something, you have to make sacrifices. Don’t forget to keep your train tickets when you return; you can get reimbursed. Alright, let me wish you all a happy New Year in advance. Enjoy your break.”

On the last day of January, 2016, the provincial youth team had just finished their final training session before the holiday. The break was about to begin, and, truth be told, many of them could hardly wait, even though Wang Lei had tried to make the training more engaging. The basics still bored many of the players.

Though everyone called this team a “ragtag bunch,” Wang Lei had worked with Eric Maihaiti to put together a list of dietary guidelines for the young players. At their level, few teams paid attention to what the players ate. College basketball was still worlds apart from the professional game—dietary discipline relied almost entirely on the players themselves. The motivated ones would self-regulate, but most would not bother at all. Beer, cigarettes, barbecue, hotpot—these weren’t just temptations, but often ways for college players to bond with each other.

Wang Lei didn’t expect his players to stick to strict diets; he’d be satisfied if they didn’t all come back from the break noticeably heavier.

After seeing the players off and handing out bonuses to his coaching staff, Wang Lei’s work was, for the moment, done. But he couldn’t relax. As soon as the holiday ended, he’d have to start thinking about the upcoming National Games youth basketball qualifiers.

Coaching was never easy—there were always too many things to worry about. It was no wonder so many veteran coaches struggled with their health. A carefree attitude simply wouldn’t cut it in this line of work.

Fortunately, Wang Lei had the benefit of experience from two lifetimes, and he had survived brushes with death. His resilience was considerable. At the very least, he had a thick enough skin to deal with someone as forceful as Li Weihong, his formidable mother-in-law. Push back too hard and you spark conflict, too soft and you seem spineless. Striking the right balance was no simple matter. Wang Lei couldn’t claim perfection, but by now he’d managed to gradually win Li Weihong’s acceptance.

On February 1st, 2016, Wang Lei and Ma Dongmei left Urumqi, flying to the capital.

Ma Dongmei remained quiet throughout the journey, pestering Wang Lei to tell her stories about the world of “Azeroth.”

During his spare moments at work, Wang Lei had already begun “creating.” The World of Warcraft setting was so vast that fully recreating it in this world would be a monumental undertaking. So he hadn’t planned to write it all chronologically. Instead, he chose to start with the tales of the Pandaren—a deliberate decision. By beginning with the Pandaren, readers in the Republic would feel an immediate connection, making the book’s early promotion easier. After all, Wang Lei was writing in Chinese, and his English was barely enough to ask for directions.

After reading tens of thousands of words, Ma Dongmei had become fascinated with the magical Azeroth Wang Lei described. Though the Pandaren story had only just begun, the fantastical world he depicted filled Ma Dongmei with admiration for his imagination. She kept urging him to tell her what happened next.

Having a captive audience, Wang Lei launched into an in-depth recounting of Azeroth’s background. The grand scope of the setting utterly captivated Ma Dongmei—she’d never imagined her boyfriend possessed such creative power.

Wang Lei talked until he was parched, and Ma Dongmei listened, enraptured. Even as they neared her family’s home in the capital, she remained lost in the stories Wang Lei had spun.

At home, they were greeted by a lavish meal prepared by Ma Pingdong himself. Outside of teaching and the occasional performance, Ma Pingdong had plenty of free time, and he had honed his culinary skills considerably. Many of his friends often gathered at his place for meals.

Seeing Wang Lei again, Li Weihong’s expression was as stern as ever, but she still asked about his coaching. Ma Dongmei, with no reservations, recounted Wang Lei’s difficulties, all while subtly praising his abilities.

Wang Lei ate with perfect composure. Things had come this far; even if Li Weihong wanted to make things difficult for him, she could no longer find a suitable reason.

Wang Lei and Ma Dongmei had returned just in time for the Little New Year festival. As the New Year approached, the festive spirit in the capital grew stronger. The usual congestion was also much less severe, with many people having gone home for the holidays.

Family reunion, a thoughtful boyfriend, and a relaxing holiday—these things filled Ma Dongmei with happiness. Every day, she dragged Wang Lei through the city’s major shopping centers, partly to prepare for the New Year and partly simply to spend as much time with him as possible. At home, after all, they still had to be mindful of Li Weihong’s mood.

On his second day home, Wang Lei visited the Dream Three Theater.

Compared to when he’d left, the theater was now bustling, its facilities expanded and renovated. Qilin Films had come to value the now-famous theater, as it provided their contracted performers with excellent opportunities to develop their craft.

However, Wang Lei didn’t see Zhang San, “Li Si,” or Tian Meili this time. They had all gone south to participate in the filming of the movie adaptation of “Goodbye Mr. Loser.”

Because the stage version of “Goodbye Mr. Loser” had a strong following online, Qilin Films deliberately cast several of the original stage actors in the film adaptation. The production team understood that big stars could attract attention, but with a story that already had a devoted fan base, established stars might not have the desired effect. So they boldly chose Zhang San and the others as leads.

Seeing that the theater was thriving, Wang Lei was content. He had never aimed to stay there forever—he’d only invested to help out Zhang San and the others. Now, his investment had already doubled, and he remained a minor shareholder in the theater, which was more than enough.

Apart from his theater friends, there was one more person Wang Lei had to see. Old Zhang, the seasoned veteran, had been waiting for his return.