When the city's neon lights drowned the dew on the lawn, Huang Yi always practiced against the wall in an abandoned court late at night. His instep can accurately control the arc of the football's rotation, just like he can control the heartbeat rhythm of everyone in this steel forest - until that underground ball match, he used an outside instep curve ball that defied common sense in physics, kicking Lin Tian's life trajectory in a completely unknown direction.
When Lin Tian met Huang Yi for the first time, he was surrounded by three tattooed strong men in a corner. The man was wearing a jersey that had been washed white, holding a worn-out football tightly in his arms, but his eyes were colder than the blade opposite him. Later, she learned that this big boy who would secretly give milk to stray cats when he was working part-time at a convenience store could play ball for three hours in a rainstorm without falling to the ground, and he could use his sneakers to draw precise lines on the asphalt road that were as precise as a scalpel.
Some people say that Huang Yi is a buried genius, while others call him a lunatic on the football field. When capital poured into the amateur league with false love, and when his former teammates bowed their waists for five buckets of rice, he still stubbornly guarded the small ground under his feet. Lin Tian's hand holding the camera trembled slightly. The figure in the camera shuttled between the defenders, like a cheetah trapped in a glass showcase. Every acceleration was tearing apart the cage of reality.
"Football doesn't lie." Huang Yi told her, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The sun shined through his sweaty hair, casting tiny spots of light on the turf. But when the contract of a professional club was placed in front of him, and when Lin Tian was involved in a behind-the-scenes operation outside the stadium, this young man who believed in pure football realized that urban green fields are always more than just black and white.
