Striker

At the end of summer, the rusty iron rooftop was as sun-stained as a frying pan. Lin Ye's third ball hit the water tank, causing a "clang" sound that caused people downstairs to curse. He wiped his sweat and took off half an inch of the tape-covered soles. Ten kilometers away, Chen Xingche pushed open the glass sliding door, and the automatic lawn irrigation system was spraying iridescence. He carefully placed the newly received limited edition sneakers on the bottom shelf of the storage shelf and put on a pair of ordinary training shoes - his father would come to see him practice today. They met for the first time that afternoon. In an abandoned construction site on the outskirts of the city, Lin Ye was practicing curveball against the peeling wall, when suddenly a black and white shadow rolled to his feet. "Can you kick me back?" On the other side of the barbed wire fence, the young man in white sportswear raised his chin. Lin Ye volleyed, and the ball passed through the high barbed wire fence and landed accurately in the opponent's hands. "My name is Chen Xingche." "... Linye." The setting sun lengthened the shadows of the two people, separated by a diamond-shaped grid of barbed wire, like a net of fate.