I Really Am Just a Substitute – CH27

Chapter 27

After training with his new partner, Ning Zhou found someone squatting by the dorm entrance wall…

“Hm?”

The person looked like a mushroom growing in some damp corner, exuding gloomy energy.

Ning Zhou casually ruffled his buzzcut and stopped in front of him, “Yu Bai, what’s wrong?”

The tall “mushroom” curled in on himself awkwardly, shifting a little but not standing up, “I’m just hanging around here, hoping someone passing by might want to train with me…”

Ning Zhou: ?

Yu Bai pretended to be indifferent, but every so often his eyes darted up, and when they collided with Ning Zhou’s, he quickly looked away, full of little hidden thoughts. It was Ning Zhou’s first time looking at Yu Bai from above. Novel as it was, he found him kind of cute.

“Training’s already over today, what are you saying?” Ning Zhou bent down, tilted his head to study Yu Bai’s face, and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “You running a fever?”

Startled, Yu Bai jerked back, bumping his head against the wall in the process. He stayed there, plastered against the wall, unmoving, “I’m fine… It’s just that my training partner went with someone else, so I came here to calm down.”

“…So that’s it.”

Ning Zhou counted on his fingers—yep, he was going to have to coax this childish guy again.

“Actually, it wasn’t me who found a partner. Coach Kong shoved him at me, forced us into a pair.”

Yu Bai’s face stayed cold, his voice faint, “I get it, like an arranged marriage.”

Ning Zhou choked—why did trying to explain only make it worse?

Pressing his lips together, he thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers to catch Yu Bai’s gaze, “The player I trained with—one’s a setter, one’s an opposite. Do you get it now?”

“You’d rather set for an opposite than a wing spiker?”

“No!” Ning Zhou laughed in exasperation, gesturing with his fingers. “Two-for-three substitution!”

“Two-for-three,” shorthand for a common volleyball substitution tactic. In matches, positions rotate (three in front row, three in back row, rotating clockwise). When the setter rotates into the front row, the front has the setter plus only two attackers—“two-point attack.”

But when the setter rotates into the back row, the front has three attackers—“three-point attack.”
The more attack points, the higher the chance of scoring. So when the setter is in the front row, coaches often use the two-for-three tactic: The backup setter replaces the opposite, and the backup opposite replaces the setter.

Essentially, the front-row setter and back-row opposite switch places, turning a two-point attack into a three-point attack.

“Coach Kong hasn’t said it outright, but having me and that opposite train together so much… it’s probably to prepare us as the two-for-three backup pair.”

Ning Zhou went on, fingers tightening on his shirt hem, “If I’m not imagining things, Coach Kong intends to add us to the national team roster—as substitutes. So whether I found a new partner or not isn’t what matters—”

Ning Zhou suddenly crouched, meeting Yu Bai eye to eye, smiling brilliantly, “Yu Bai, I didn’t break my promise. We’ll still get another chance to stand on the court together!”

Sunlight spilled into the corner, scattering the gloom. The “mushroom’s” legs went numb from squatting—and so did his heart.

Yu Bai’s throat bobbed, his mouth dry, “My passing has improved…”

“Really!”

Ning Zhou sneered inwardly: this person is so easy to coax…

*

But joking was joking—Ning Zhou’s analysis and conclusions weren’t just random guesses meant to comfort people. Coach Luo spent most of his time training the Asian Championship members, but whenever he came by the training court, his attention was focused on Ning Zhou and Song Hanrun.

For a national team head coach to pay such close attention, everyone in training understood—those two had a chance…

Song Hanrun, however, felt anxious. The moment he noticed Coach Luo watching, his usually steady performance turned chaotic, errors piling up.

The more mistakes he made, the worse his mentality became. He spiraled into a vicious cycle—his muscles stiffened, and even the simplest bump sent the ball flying out of control…

“Hahaha!” The nearby players gloated, “Told you he’d never catch the coach’s eye. He’s the famous ‘man who never seizes an opportunity’!”

Just then, Ning Zhou, who had bent to pick up the ball, overheard and asked, “What do you mean?”

The player, about 27 or 28 years old, sized Ning Zhou up and down, “You young ones probably haven’t heard of it, but Song Hanrun is pretty well-known in our age group.”

Ning Zhou nodded. “Because he’s strong, right?”

“Well, normally he does play well…”

The man began counting on his fingers. “But in key matches, crucial points, decisive serves… even critical selection tests, he’s always blown it.”

Song Hanrun stood frozen, annoyed by the words but unable to refute them.

“He strikes hard day to day, but when it matters he shrinks back. His ‘never-seizing-opportunity’ antics spread all over the volleyball world a few years ago!”

The man put on a mocking smile, deliberately patted Ning Zhou’s shoulder, “Take a tip from your senior—if you keep practicing with him, whatever chance you get, he’ll drag you down…”

He left, looking quite pleased with himself. Ning Zhou tucked the ball under one arm, brushed the shoulder where he’d been touched as if dusting off dirt, face unchanged. He returned to stand opposite Song Hanrun and tossed the ball over.

Still in a daze, Song Hanrun’s body reacted faster than his mind. He instinctively bumped the ball back: “xx##…”

“What did you say?” Ning Zhou caught it and stepped closer.

Song Hanrun sighed. “He’s right. If you go ask the coach for a new partner now, your chances of getting into the national team will be better…”

Seeing he wanted to say more, Ning Zhou tossed him his water bottle to cut him off, “I’ve always believed that in competitive sports, underlying strength matters more than performance on the day.”

Song Hanrun took a sip, bitterness in his tone, “That may be true in track and field, but in gymnastics, figure skating… even one mistake erases strength. I’m the same. Whenever it’s important, I choke. That’s why I’m already 27 and still mediocre.”

“True, luck, physical condition, even referees and audiences all affect results.”

Ning Zhou swept a glance across the court—players dripping with sweat, grinding fundamentals, eyes only for volleyball, “Time and circumstance we can’t control. The only thing we can change is being less skilled than others. Blaming results on strength at least gives athletes a direction to work toward.”

Song Hanrun gripped his water bottle tighter, his back hunching more.

“Yeah… my mentality’s the problem.”

“I’m not blaming you.” Ning Zhou raised his index finger. “What I mean is, your strength is already enough. However you’ve performed before doesn’t matter.”

The sudden compliment made Song Hanrun flustered. He fiddled with the bottle. “No, I’m just average.”

Ning Zhou stepped closer, face-to-face, suddenly serious, making Song Hanrun tense too…

Ning Zhou solemnly declared, “Instead of improving yourself, you should just blame others!”

Song Hanrun, who was listening carefully, “?”

“Uh, did you misspeak? Got it backwards?”

The perfect motivational atmosphere soured in an instant.

Ning Zhou added, “I can vouch that your strength is enough. If you mess up, just blame me.”

Song Hanrun half-laughed, half-cried, “What the heck…”

“Really!” Ning Zhou frowned slightly. “Just follow my mindset. Have you ever seen me lose it mentally?”

Song Hanrun paused, thinking it through—From their first meeting, to becoming training partners, to every drill and every test…

Ning Zhou’s mentality had always been steady. He never overperformed, but never made errors from nerves either.

“You have the best mindset of any volleyball player I’ve seen,” Song Hanrun admitted enviously.

Ning Zhou gave a complicated smile. “See? Trust me, you can’t go wrong…” (Live two lives, and you’d be the same.) Song Hanrun was so persuaded he was dazed.

“Then I’ll try your method. But if you never make mistakes, who do I blame?”

Ning Zhou thought for a moment. “Then just blame someone else. With five teammates on the court, there’s always one not perfect enough to take the heat.”

“Alright.” Song Hanrun looked thoughtful.

Ning Zhou’s mind flashed to a certain face, so he quickly added, “Just keep the blame in your head though. Don’t confront teammates during matches… especially not the ones who look fierce—fights aren’t good.”

“Mm-hmm!”

During the following practices, Ning Zhou’s “blame others” method worked. Even under Coach Luo’s watchful eyes, Song Hanrun muttered under his breath but kept his movements precise, ranking among the best players in every drill.

Once, Ning Zhou leaned over to eavesdrop on his muttering, “Crap, defense flew off… assistant coach’s watch is too shiny, messed up my vision.”

“Ah, touched the net… teammate’s block was too quick, threw off my rhythm.”

“Hiss, serve went out… I’ll just serve a few more to fix it…”

What a disciplined, obedient opposite hitter!

*

A few days later, the national team coaching staff announced a friendly match.

The lineup for the match was intriguing—

On one side: Ning Zhou, Song Hanrun, along with Yu Bai, Nie Feiang, Xu Zichang, Ning Yang, and a few other young, less-experienced players from Team One.

On the other: all the remaining training camp players, except for Ning Zhou and Song Hanrun…

Seven versus dozens. The training camp coaches had unlimited substitution rights. As for the seven, they had no substitutes, no coach’s guidance, no timeouts—and this lineup had zero prior experience playing together…

Ten minutes before the game started, Ning Zhou and the others were herded together like a flock of ducklings, staring blankly at one another.

“Uh…” Nie Feiang grinned foolishly at the coaching staff. “So, which coach are we following for this match?”

Coach Luo was busy tidying his hairstyle. Assistant coach Ning Xu answered for him, “You don’t have a coach.”

Nie Feiang’s smile froze. His eyes darted across Coach Luo, Assistant Coach Ning Xu, Assistant Coach Garry, and Assistant Coach Hou, utterly incredulous, “How can that be? I mean, the coaches are all just standing around—mmph!”

Xu Zichang clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away, whispering harshly, “Shut up! If you offend someone, that’s the entire coaching staff at once. Do you want to die?”

Ning Zhou forced a laugh and stepped in front of them, “Sorry, but could you clarify—what exactly does ‘no coach’ mean?”

“Ahem!”

Coach Luo finished grooming, tucked away his small comb, and explained leisurely, “You’re all mature volleyball players now, capable of standing on your own. Surely you don’t want to hear empty pep talks from us old fossils. There’s still ten minutes before the match—no need for a coach. Work it out amongst yourselves!”

He glanced at his watch, squinting as he added another jab, “Correction—five minutes left now…”

Across the court, the opposing team was already huddled around their coaches for pre-match guidance. The seven-man squad’s time was ticking away fast…

Ning Zhou quickly grasped the situation—

On volleyball courts, there’s an unspoken rule: when a team has no coach, the most senior and experienced player usually takes charge.

Among their seven, the candidate was obvious…

Ning Zhou’s gaze landed on one person. Song Hanrun looked back with wide, innocent eyes and whispered, barely audible, “What is it?”

“…”

Wake up! You’re a 27-year-old senior, supposed to be mature and steady!

But expecting someone as introverted as Song Hanrun to command a team of first-time teammates was unrealistic. Ning Zhou abandoned that idea and scanned the others, ranked by age—

Everyone: [even more innocent and clueless.jpg]

At last, Ning Zhou locked eyes with Ning Yang, the only one his age. After a few seconds, he gave up.

“Well… I’m the setter, so I know everyone’s habits best. If no one objects, I’ll be the temporary captain.”

Thus, in the first “Duckling Assembly Election,” Ning Zhou was unanimously voted in as “Mother Duck.”

He pointed at Song Hanrun, “First, let me introduce—this is our opposite hitter, Song Hanrun. Very versatile technically, but he’s not used to calling out loudly on court. You guys shout more to avoid collisions.”

Ning Yang and Nie Feiang greeted Song Hanrun warmly, shaking hands. Yu Bai, however, kept his face stiff and distant, offering only the briefest handshake with a frosty attitude…

Sensing tension, Ning Zhou glanced at Yu Bai, “Yu Bai, although Hanrun’s position is opposite, his passing skills aren’t inferior to an outside hitter’s. He can help cover a round of serve receive.”

“No need.”

Yu Bai turned away coldly, his sharp jawline emphasizing his indifference, “I can handle my own passing.”

Seriously? What’s with his attitude again!?

Ning Zhou sighed inwardly, “Fine. We’ll stick to the standard passing formation for now, and adjust as needed during the match. As for the starting rotation…”

They hadn’t discussed for long when the first referee’s whistle blew, signaling that the match was about to begin.

“Good thing I’ve already played with most of you,” Ning Zhou said as they walked onto the court. “It won’t be too messy. You all still remember the signals we used when playing with me, right?”

“Remember.”

“Yep.”

Ning Zhou smiled at the silent Nie Feiang and Xu Zichang. The “two fools” were wiggling their fingers, muttering to themselves as they tried to recall.

Ning Zhou facepalmed, “Stop it—if you keep acting them out like that, the opponents will memorize them too. Just run them through in your head.”

Ning Yang marched up and smacked both of them across the head, “Bring your brains with you, for once!”

Song Hanrun flinched, rushing forward to break it up, mumbling timidly, “Don’t fight… Ning Zhou said blaming teammates shouldn’t be said out loud…”

Yu Bai’s ears perked at a certain word. He turned sharply, “What did you say? Zhou Zhou what?”

“Beep—!”

The referee’s short whistle pierced the air, a warning, “Rotation check! Line up properly and show your jersey numbers! Keep it up and I’ll hand out yellow cards!”

Ning Zhou, “…Sorry.”

Spectators at the sidelines: …

There were plenty of spectators—coaching staff, first-team players, and training-camp members not on court—all sweating nervously for the seven-man squad.

This team didn’t exactly look reliable…

First-team setter Shao Qiu frowned, his prominent cheekbones casting shadows: “Du Jun, can they even pull it off? What if they lose badly?”

Outside hitter Du Jun opened his mouth but stayed silent.

“Captain, don’t be like this—say something!” middle blocker Chen Wenyao groaned, covering his eyes. “Each one’s more ridiculous than the last. I don’t even want to admit I came from the same team as them…”

Du Jun sighed, “On paper, their strength is enough to win…”

Coach Luo chuckled and cut in, “But with their current team chemistry? That’s questionable, isn’t it?”

Du Jun pressed his lips thinly and nodded.

“Don’t worry so much.”

From behind them, an older, easygoing male voice drifted in, “Young players making noise is perfectly normal.”

Coach Luo turned in surprise, “You came to watch this little scrimmage too?”

Zhang Kang squeezed into the front row, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, “My U21 squad disbanded. I’m bored…”

Assistant Coach Ning Xu nodded slightly, treating it as a greeting, “You actually have free time? I thought you were still playing as a starter on an amateur team.”

“Can’t keep it up these past few years.” Zhang Kang waved his hand. “These old bones are too brittle to risk jumping. I only fill in when they’re short of players…”

The coaches started chatting casually.

Du Jun looked at them, his temples throbbing—Even Coach Zhang Kang came to watch this match?

With several of the country’s top coaches gathering here, it was obvious that today’s match wasn’t just a ‘friendly’…

Beep—The friendly officially began.

Ning Zhou had chosen serve receive, so the seven-man squad would take the first attack.

The training team’s opening serve wasn’t aggressive—neither fast nor floaty—but it was targeted precisely into Yu Bai’s passing zone.

“Yu Bai!”

Ning Zhou called out loudly, knowing full well this was part of the serve strategy. The opposing coaches had clearly identified Yu Bai as the weakest passer in the lineup. And with no coach on their side, his team could only rely on themselves to adapt. They were in the dark; the opponent was not. An early disadvantage…

Yu Bai set up in serve-receive posture, his expression stubborn, like he had some obsession with proving himself in passing. His arm angle was correct, sending the ball flying toward Ning Zhou’s side—high in the air…

Too tight! Ning Zhou’s eyes followed the ball, a sinking feeling in his chest.

Yu Bai’s direction was right, but he had put too much force into it. With two lifetimes of experience, Ning Zhou only needed one glance to know—this ball was going over the net.

Normally, the receiving side should have priority to set up their attack, but if the pass goes over the net, it’s essentially handing the attack to the other team—or worse, giving them an easy tip at the net.

Ning Zhou kept his face calm, betraying nothing, while his mind spun. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the opposing players—They weren’t sure of the ball’s drop point, hesitating whether to jump for a quick kill.

At that moment, Ning Zhou suddenly lunged a step toward the net, leaping almost against it.

His spacing was perfect: close enough to extend his arms fully over the net, but not touching it.

Teammates, opponents, coaches, and spectators alike—

Seeing Ning Zhou’s move, everyone thought—

The setter is going to grab this ball off the net and reset it to his hitters…

From his perspective, the blockers were already preparing to read his set and jump for the block.

“Heh—gotcha!”

Just before his fingers touched the ball, Ning Zhou pulled his hands back. The ball continued its natural arc, dropping cleanly between the net and the opposing players.

“!?”

The other side realized too late. They reached for it, but couldn’t catch it in time. The ball landed on the training team’s court.

Beep!

Point. Yu Bai’s overpassed ball had somehow turned into a direct score.

The audience erupted—an unexpected way to win a point.

“Holy crap!”

Nie Feiang’s eyes glazed over. “What was that move?”

“Hahaha!” Ning Yang pounced on Ning Zhou, slapping his back. “That’s our Zhou Zhou—cunning old fox! No—cunning little fox!”

Xu Zichang winked at Yu Bai. “Nice one, bro. Scoring off a pass—that’s next-level!”

But Yu Bai didn’t look happy. An overpass in serve receive was normally considered a mistake—nine times out of ten it would be punished. If not for Ning Zhou’s clever feint, they’d have lost the point.

Yu Bai immediately took responsibility. “My fault.”

Ning Zhou lifted a hand and pinched Yu Bai’s tense cheek lightly, squeezing it a few times, “You’re trying too hard to force the pass to me. Relax!”

Song Hanrun suggested timidly, “Since they’re targeting Yu Bai’s spot with serves… maybe we should adjust our passing formation? I can help with reception—”

“No need. I won’t make that rookie mistake again.”

Yu Bai’s tone was stubborn, though muffled and comical since Ning Zhou still had his fingers pressed to his face.

“Then forget it.” Song Hanrun shrank back to his spot.

“Don’t mind him. He talks to everyone like that.”

Xu Zichang tried to comfort him, then whispered in Song Hanrun’s ear: “Though… his tone today is even sharper than usual. Like he’s extra determined to prove himself…”

The seven-man squad’s atmosphere grew heavier, and the spectators began murmuring.

Chen Wenyao bounced his leg nervously. “Crap, are they about to fight?”

Next to him, Du Jun’s hand clenched tight, the tape on his fingers stretching taut. “Let’s watch a bit longer. If it gets worse, we’ll have to ask the coaches to call a timeout.”

“Something’s off…” Shao Qiu’s face was grim. “That point worked out thanks to Ning Zhou’s fake-out—but don’t you think the opponents are over-focusing on him?”

Ning Zhou noticed it too. Across the net, the man facing him had eyes fixed on him—not the ball. Almost like he was being targeted deliberately.

While he was thinking, Yu Bai stepped forward a bit, half-shielding Ning Zhou with his body.
The opponent’s gaze faltered against his intensity and quickly backed off.

“Don’t glare at them!” Ning Zhou tugged Yu Bai back. “It’s a friendly match, not a brawl.”

Yu Bai retreated under Ning Zhou’s pull, though his aura was still sharp as a blade.

Ning Zhou finally raised his hand, covering Yu Bai’s eyes and making him look down at him instead, “The more you tense up, the stiffer your muscles get. Relax. Don’t let that one pass weigh on you. However you pass, I’ll adjust it.”

“…Okay.”

In just a few words, the bristling lone wolf was soothed into a tame pup, obediently returning to his spot.

1 : 0

The seven-man squad led by one point, switching to serve. The training team, with their longer practice time, executed their side-out attack smoothly. Ning Yang failed to dig their heavy spike—the ball ricocheted off his arm, flying outside the antenna to the other side…

That ball can be saved! Ning Zhou’s eyes lit up. He quickly ducked under the net near the pole (going outside the court past the net—perfectly legal).

As he moved his feet, he was already positioning his arms to dig the ball. As long as he could bump it back inside from outside the antenna, they could keep the rally alive!

But just as he was about to make the save, out of the corner of his eye he saw someone slide over—deliberately blocking the path between him and where the ball was going to land…

“!”

To avoid colliding with him, Ning Zhou swerved aside, and in the next second the ball hit the floor.
The head referee blew the whistle. Training squad point.

1 : 1

On the volleyball court, even if it’s just one point, Ning Zhou refused to be treated like a pushover.

He immediately ran to the first referee, “Ref, I could’ve saved that ball. He deliberately blocked me!”

“What blocking? That’s just where I was standing. Don’t slander me!”

The blocker was the very same player Ning Zhou had tricked with his feint in the first rally. Worked up, he leaned over Ning Zhou and shouted down at him from his height, trying to use his size to intimidate him.

Ning Zhou ignored him and appealed to the second referee. The second ref had the better angle, right by Ning Zhou’s side of the court, and had clearly seen the entire play. He confirmed Ning Zhou’s version.

The head referee immediately overturned the decision, “This rally will be replayed!”

Which meant the score went back to 1 : 0, and the Seven would serve again to decide the point.

The blocker panicked and lashed out at both Ning Zhou and the second referee, “What’s wrong with your eyes? I told you I was just standing there! Which eye of yours saw me block on purpose?”

Ning Zhou held his patience, reasoning with him, “You think I only had eyes on the ball? You moved right into my path to the save, I saw it—ugh!”

Before he could finish, the blocker shoved him hard, spittle flying, “It’s just one point! Can you let it go already!?”

Caught off guard, Ning Zhou nearly fell. He steadied himself by grabbing the net. The anger he’d been suppressing flared up, and he was just about to retort—when a hand landed on his shoulder.
The hand wasn’t forceful, but it was firm, brooking no refusal…

Ning Zhou froze where he stood, and at the same time felt the rush of a fist swing past his cheek—

---

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