Overseas Chinese: the Young Man Chasing the Wind

Name: Overseas Chinese: the Young Man Chasing the Wind
Author: Dishan Layman

by Dishan Layman

completed History Folk Tales Male Lead

Length:

529Kwords125chapters

Latest:

Ch. 125 — Stadium at Dusk: Triple Photo

Activity:

Updated 3mo agoScraped 14d ago

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About This Novel

In the early spring of 1979, the overseas Chinese farm was cultivated. Under the setting sun, a group of returned overseas Chinese children played a dilapidated football on a barren open space. The leader is the stubborn Shi Dazhuang, as well as Qian Xiaopang, Sun Xiaoqiang, the lanky Wu Guoping and the unyielding Lin Xueming. They ran hard chasing the "football" that could fall apart at any time. "Bang!" With a muffled sound, Shi Dazhuang shot the ball completely and the pieces scattered into the muddy water. The children's smiles instantly froze, huge disappointment enveloped them, and they fell into silence around the "wreck." Chen Guohua, a returned overseas Chinese who has been working on a farm for more than ten years, looked at the lost children and the barren mud, and the silent memories in his heart were awakened. He was once a young boy playing football barefoot in a rubber plantation in Nanyang. Football carries nostalgia and dreams. After returning to China, the burden of life buried this hot memory. The children's want stung him. The news of the establishment of the Provincial Football Association is no longer far away at this moment. At this time, Lin Zhenbang, an old returned overseas Chinese man, came over. He silently took out an old takraw ball that was rubbed shiny, looked at the children on the wasteland, and said in a low voice: "Looking at them, it's like seeing us kicking mango pits with bare feet without the ball, but our feet are itchy and our hearts are itching even more. In Nanyang, football is our root." Lin Zhenbang's words were like a key that opened the door to Chen Guohua's dusty heart. He looked at the children and the muddy ground, the word "root" echoed in his heart, and his silent blood was ignited. A heavy sense of responsibility and a faint fire of hope arose. As dusk grew darker, the eyes of the two generations of returned overseas Chinese met, and their determination to ignite the spark of football for the children was like a firefly, quietly lighting up in the night sky over the farm.