Late at night, Lu Chuan sat alone at his desk in the apartment, the dim lamplight illuminating his focused face.
The system panel appeared in his mind, its blue, translucent interface displaying all his assets:
Current LP Balance: 2430
Skills: Full Field Vision, Penalty Box Finisher (Trial Card - 1 match remaining), Heading Expert (Trial Card - expired), Big Heart (Fragment x1)
Talents: Guaranteed Long Shot (10%), Guaranteed Penalty Kick (30%)
Lu Chuan frowned, tapping his fingers on the desk. Trial cards were like borrowed strength, liable to disappear at any moment.
He needed skills that truly belonged to him, abilities ingrained deep in his bones.
His gaze roamed the price list of the Legendary Shop, and two expensive skills caught his eye: Penalty Box Finisher for 2200LP, and Big Heart for 3500LP.
The former was his foundation, the latter a crucial guarantee in life-or-death moments.
Lu Chuan took a deep breath and made a decision.
"System, exchange for Penalty Box Finisher."
"Ding! 2200LP consumed, permanent skill: Penalty Box Finisher successfully exchanged!"
Current LP Balance: 230
His consciousness instantly became incredibly clear; every run, gap, and shooting angle within the penalty box unfolded in his mind like a 3D blueprint.
He closed his eyes, and countless shooting methods naturally emerged in his mind: push shots, power shots, lobs, volleys... every technique as clear as if etched into his soul.
The doorbell broke the night's silence.
Lu Chuan walked to the door, puzzled, and through the peephole, saw a deliveryman holding a large package.
"Mr. Lu Chuan, your international express package."
The package was heavy, bearing the China Post logo. Lu Chuan's heart quickened; this was the smell of home.
Tearing open the packaging, a familiar aroma wafted out. His mother's homemade beef jerky, his father's favorite tea, and all the snacks he had loved since childhood.
A thick scrapbook lay quietly at the bottom of the package, with a note pasted on the cover: "Son's Moments of Glory."
Lu Chuan opened the scrapbook, every page filled with positive reports about him.
From Sports Weekly to Football News, from online screenshots to fan comments. His father had written annotations in neat handwriting next to each report:
"February 3rd, our son scored, and our whole family cheered in front of the TV."
"February 10th, seeing our son fouled, your mother's heart ached, and she shed tears."
"February 14th, our son equalized against Real Sociedad, I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night."
On the last page, a letter was tucked in. Lu Chuan recognized his father's familiar handwriting:
"Son, your mother and I watched your match against Real Sociedad. Our hearts ached for every tackle you made, and we were proud of that goal.
You looked thinner on TV; remember to eat well. Remember, home will always be your harbor. No matter how high or far you fly, come home when you're tired."
Lu Chuan held the letter, his eyes gradually welling up. A man over 1.8 meters tall, in this deep night, was struck in the softest corner of his heart by the distant longing.
He picked up his phone, wanting to call home, but realized it was 5 AM Beijing time.
"I'll call when it's light." He gently stroked the letter, an infinite surge of strength filling his heart.
On the training ground the next day, Lu Chuan felt an unprecedented warmth.
Captain Trejo, during passing drills, was always the first to find his position. That kind of understanding needed no words, only a glance, and the ball would accurately appear at his feet.
"Lu, catch!"
The ball arced beautifully through the air. Lu Chuan easily brought it down, turned, and shot. The movement was fluid, and the net rippled in response.
"Perfect!" Trejo gave a thumbs-up, a proud glint in his eyes.
During the group training, defensive midfielder Suárez stayed close to Lu Chuan. Whenever anyone made an overly aggressive move on Lu Chuan, Suárez was always the first to rush over.
"Hey, be careful!" Suárez pushed away the opposing player, shielding Lu Chuan. "He's our treasure; can you afford to break him?"
In the training match, a fierce sliding tackle lunged towards Lu Chuan. Suárez didn't even think, immediately stepping in front of him, and yelled at the fouling teammate.
Trejo just smiled and shook his head, tossing the ball back to Lu Chuan.
Paco Jémez stood on the sidelines, observing it all. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, utterly satisfied.
"Lu, come here."
Paco called him aside and patted his shoulder: "How do you want to play the next match?"
This trust flattered Lu Chuan. It was uncommon in football for a head coach to ask a player for tactical input.
"I want to drop back more to receive the ball and create opportunities for my teammates," Lu Chuan replied seriously. "Oviedo's defense is very tight; I can act as a decoy to stretch their backline."
Paco nodded, a look of admiration in his eyes: "That's a very good idea. You're not just a scorer, but a thinker too."
During a break in training, Álvaro García walked over to Lu Chuan and handed him a bottle of water.
"Lu, you know what?" Álvaro whispered, "I used to be a little jealous of you. Some new guy comes in and steals all the thunder?"
Lu Chuan said nothing, just listened quietly.
"Then I understood," Álvaro patted his back. "You deserve all this praise. You just keep running into the penalty box; if the ball doesn't reach your feet, I lose!"
There was no reluctance in these words, only sincere recognition.
After training, Lu Chuan walked towards the parking lot and saw a familiar figure in the distance.
Esther sat in the cafe opposite the training ground, wearing large sunglasses and holding a cup of coffee. She didn't wave or call out, just watched him quietly.
Lu Chuan's heart quickened, and a smile unconsciously appeared on his face.
Her presence was like an invisible landscape that made his every run full of meaning.
His phone vibrated, and Esther's message popped up:
"Training finished? You looked good today."
Lu Chuan replied: "Because I knew you were watching me."
"Cheesy." Esther sent an eye-roll emoji, "But I like it."
Back in his apartment, Lu Chuan opened the scrapbook again. The densely packed words recorded his every goal, every assist, every brilliant performance.
He folded the letter neatly and carefully placed it into the scrapbook. His family's concern, his teammates' trust, Esther's gaze—all of it made him feel that he had to win the next match.
He picked up his phone and called home.
"Dad?"
"Son!" His father's voice trembled, "Did you receive the package?"
"I did, thank you," Lu Chuan's voice was a little choked. "I miss you."
"We miss you too," his mother's voice came from the other end of the line. "Take good care of yourself, don't make us worry."
"Don't worry, I will," Lu Chuan took a deep breath. "I'll score in the next match. For you, for everyone who supports me."
Hanging up the phone, Lu Chuan looked out at the Madrid night view.
Tomorrow was the match against Real Oviedo, and his twelve-game scoring streak journey was about to begin.
This was not just to extend his scoring record, but to repay everyone who loved him.
He clenched his fist, his eyes shining with determination.
His family's expectations, his teammates' trust, his lover's support, the fans' cheers... all of it would become his source of strength on the field.
On match day, Vallecas Stadium was bustling with noise.
Lu Chuan walked out of the player tunnel, and the roaring cheers of "Lu Chuan! Lu Chuan! Lu Chuan!" echoed in his ears.
He looked up at the vip box and saw Esther wearing sunglasses, and her friend next to her, also wearing sunglasses.
Esther waved at him, and that simple gesture filled Lu Chuan with infinite strength.
Meanwhile, at the press conference, Real Oviedo's coach made a bold statement:
"We know how to deal with him; he won't get any chances in our penalty box."
Lu Chuan heard these words and a cold smile played on his lips.
A challenge? He was never afraid of challenges.
Today, he would answer all doubts with goals and repay all the care with victory.
The journey of his twelve-game scoring streak began here.