["The apartment was right next to the Carrington Training Ground, just a ten-minute walk away. Ye Feng quickly arrived at the Carrington Training Ground. The early morning in Manchester was shrouded in grey mist; the streetlights had not yet been extinguished, casting dim, yellow patches of light onto the wet asphalt. Ye Feng zipped up his training jacket and slung his bag over his shoulder. His phone vibrated again; it was still Cristiano Ronaldo. \"Are you here yet? I'm already warming up.\" Ye Feng smiled and quickened his pace. The gates to the training ground had just opened, and the dew on the grass had not yet dissipated. From afar, he could see a figure running on the pitch, the red training kit standing out starkly against the mist. Cristiano Ronaldo was doing shuttle runs, changing direction sharply at every marker cone, sending fine droplets of water splashing from his feet. Seeing Ye Feng walk in, Cristiano Ronaldo stopped, rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath, and then straightened up, a smile spreading across his still-youthful face: \"You're four minutes late.\" Ye Feng threw his bag on the sidelines and began taking off his jacket: \"Didn't you say not to be late? You didn't say what time.\" \"Six-thirty,\" Cristiano Ronaldo said matter-of-factly, \"I arrived at six.\" Ye Feng glanced at his phone: 6:34 AM. This Portuguese player's obsession with training had reached an almost pathological level. \"Let's start.\" Cristiano Ronaldo kicked a football to Ye Feng's feet, \"You said you were going to teach me that variation of the Elastico.\" Ye Feng trapped the ball with his toe, feeling the touch of the ball under his feet. The Ronaldinho template had granted him an almost instinctive control over the football; every touch felt like fingers plucking guitar strings—precise and rhythmic. \"The key to that move isn't the feet; it's the center of gravity.\" Ye Feng began a slow-motion demonstration, drawing a circle over the ball with his right foot, \"Look, the basic move of the Elastico is to push the ball with the outside of your foot and then quickly pull it back in, but what really fools the defender is your shoulders and your eyes.\" His shoulders dipped sharply to the left, and his gaze followed, but his feet cut the ball to the right. Cristiano Ronaldo stared at his movements, brows furrowed, lips moving slightly as if muttering something to himself. \"What are you muttering about?\" Ye Feng asked. \"Breaking down your move,\" Cristiano Ronaldo looked up, \"the depth of the shoulder dip, the timing of the eye shift, the part of the foot that touches the ball. I need to remember it all.\" Ye Feng was stunned. He had always thought Cristiano Ronaldo was a player who relied on talent and physical attributes, but now he truly realized that this Portuguese teenager's success was no coincidence. His obsession with detail had reached an almost paranoid level. \"You try.\" Ye Feng passed the ball over. Cristiano Ronaldo received the ball and began to imitate the move. His first step was quick, and the shoulder feint was realistic, but when he cut inside, the ball rolled a bit too far, losing control. \"Not quite right.\" Cristiano Ronaldo shook his head, \"Again.\" The second time. The third time. The fourth time. By the tenth time, Cristiano Ronaldo finally executed a complete Elastico variation; although the fluidity was still far from perfect, the framework of the move had taken shape. Ye Feng stood by and watched, suddenly remembering the peak Cristiano Ronaldo he had seen on TV in his previous life. Back then, he no longer played with flashy tricks; his playing style had become simple and efficient, with every movement born for the sake of scoring goals. But at this moment, the 18-year-old was still greedily absorbing all techniques, like an insatiable sponge. \"Ye Feng, look at this.\" Cristiano Ronaldo suddenly said. He flicked the ball up, juggled it twice with his instep, and then suddenly turned, using his heel to flick the ball up and over both their heads, landing three meters in front. Ye Feng's eyes lit up: \"Did you come up with this yourself?\" \"I thought about it after watching your Rainbow Flick last night.\" Cristiano Ronaldo grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth, \"I think this move can be used when breaking through on the wing, but it's not fluid enough yet. Look, on that last part, my center of gravity was too high when I turned, making it easy for someone to knock me over from behind.\" As he spoke, he demonstrated it again, this time deliberately lowering his center of gravity, and the movement was indeed much more fluid. Ye Feng walked over and stood opposite Cristiano Ronaldo: \"Now, put these two moves together. Use the Elastico to shake me off first, then follow up with that heel flick you just did.\" \"Alright.\" Cristiano Ronaldo took a deep breath and started. His right foot drew a circle over the ball, his shoulders dipped to the left, and Ye Feng subconsciously shifted his center of gravity. But Cristiano Ronaldo's feet cut the ball to the right. Ye Feng was prepared; he quickly adjusted his center of gravity and reached out a foot to block. In that split second, Cristiano Ronaldo suddenly turned, his heel clipping the bottom of the ball. The ball flew over Ye Feng's head. Cristiano Ronaldo darted past him, received the dropping ball, and pushed it with his foot, sending it rolling into the bottom corner of the goal. \"It worked!\" Cristiano Ronaldo punched the air in excitement and rushed over to high-five Ye Feng. Their palms collided, making a crisp sound. Sunlight finally pierced through the Manchester morning mist, spilling onto the emerald green turf. There were only the two of them on the training pitch, yet there was the sound of dripping sweat, the thud of the football hitting the net, and the sound of their ragged breathing. \"Don't you get tired?\" Ye Feng asked. \"Tired?\" Cristiano Ronaldo wiped the sweat from his forehead, that familiar flame burning in his eyes, \"When I was in Lisbon, I woke up at five every morning to run on the beach with sandbags tied to me. All the kids there wanted to make it as footballers, but only I did. Do you know why?\" Ye Feng shook his head. \"Because they all thought they had worked hard enough.\" Cristiano Ronaldo said something in Portuguese, then translated it into English himself, \"I have never felt that I have worked hard enough.\" The two practiced passing and receiving for another hour. Ye Feng discovered that Cristiano Ronaldo's positional awareness was excellent; every off-the-ball run precisely cut into the blind spot of the defense. And he only needed to pass the ball to that spot, and Cristiano Ronaldo would be there. This kind of chemistry was as if they had been playing together for years. When training ended, Cristiano Ronaldo sat on the ground, wiping his soaked hair with a towel, and suddenly asked: \"Ye Feng, why did you come to Manchester United?\" Ye Feng unscrewed his water bottle, tilted his head back, and took a gulp: \"Because in the Dragon Kingdom, you can't play in a match without paying money.\""]
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