I Really Am Just a Substitute – CH40

Chapter 40

Pang Tianze had only been on the court a few minutes but had already contributed significantly… to the chaos among the staff.

Back on the bench, he scratched his head sheepishly.
“Bit of an accident. Didn’t take down the opponent, but… I did take out a camera…”

Xu Zichang burst out laughing. “It’s fine, as long as you didn’t injure the ref!”

“The head ref definitely remembers Brother Pang now,” Nie Feiang said, rubbing his chin. “Just one play and everyone—both in the arena and watching online—has you burned into their memory.”

“Damn, that trick works!” Xu Zichang said in awe.

Ning Zhou quickly yanked Xu Zichang back by the arm, warning, “Don’t even think about copying him.”

“…Got it.”

Beeeep—

The score was now 19:20, Team China trailing by a single point.
And for the next serve, it was once again Team D’s No.1 stepping up.

This would be his fourth serve in this set.
The first three? Two went out of bounds, one was neatly received by Ning Yang and turned into a half-decent setup.

“Captain, time to show your power!”

“Serve it well! Coach Sara’s watching you!”

His teammates cheered him on. No.1 waved briefly, then took the ball, his sharp gaze slicing across the net.

Team China’s receivers froze.

That stare was like a hawk locked on prey—no matter the darkness, no matter the speed, the prey couldn’t escape.

But after only a moment, No.1 withdrew his gaze.

“Careful!” Du Jun’s brows knitted. “He’s different from earlier…”

Ning Yang hopped lightly on his feet, warming up his body. “Feels like… he’s targeting something. Weird, what’s he looking at?”

“…” Yu Bai’s expression darkened.

The whistle blew. No.1’s expression flickered with excitement as he tossed the ball high.

Every muscle in his body obeyed with precision, channeling force to a single point, delivering a serve exceeding 120 km/h.

The ball wasn’t as heavy as Pang Tianze’s, but it spun violently in the air, shifting direction sharply in an instant.

Ning Yang’s pupils shrank as he read the spin.
“Yu Bai!”

Team China’s passing system relied on the libero plus two outside hitters.

Ning Yang, a natural talent, and Du Jun, a seasoned veteran, handled most of the receptions, leaving Yu Bai—a relative novice to volleyball—with a much smaller coverage zone.

But this serve… was perfectly placed.

The spin carried the ball straight toward Yu Bai’s direction, hugging the sideline without going out of bounds.

At 120 km/h, even if Ning Yang wanted to dive for it, there was no way to make it in time.

No.1 relished the shot, the sting in his palm heightening his thrill.
“Bullseye.”

The ball danced through the air like a waltz, twisting unpredictably before zipping toward Yu Bai.

Hearing no “out!” warning, Yu Bai focused completely, moving his arms with the ball—

Thwack!

The ball mocked his slow reaction, skimming past his arm and flying out of bounds.

Beeeep—

Ace serve. 19:21

In the commentary booth, Tong Rong gasped. “M-missed the reception…”

Zhang Kang pressed his fingers to his temple. “The captain of Team D has a very unique serving style—it’s extremely hard to receive.”

“But Ning Yang just handled it perfectly earlier,” Tong Rong protested.

“Ning Yang is unusually sensitive to ball spin. He’s perfect for reading this type of serve,” Zhang Kang explained.
“He watches the ball’s rotation, predicts its path, and positions himself early.

“But most players can’t do that. They just follow the ball with their eyes—and usually, they’ll always be a step too slow.”

Tong Rong imagined the ball curving unpredictably midair before the reception and shuddered.
“God… is there any way to counter that?”

“Adapt,” Zhang Kang said simply.

A chill ran down Tong Rong’s spine. “Athletes can adapt quickly, sure—but just by watching a few serves, they can handle it?”

“Yes,” Zhang Kang said, his voice tight with concern. “But in a match, there’s rarely enough time to adjust…”

[Lose a point and it’s gone. Who gives you time to adapt? /screaming/]
[This is so bad, losing 20 points first is already painful, and now dropping points in the final moments, we can’t hold it anymore!]
[What kind of main attacker is Yu Bai? What’s the point of strong attacks if you can’t even handle a decent first pass?]
[Probably spent all his practice time brawling instead of training. Such weak fundamentals!]
[Stop blaming him after every ball, okay? Team D is known as a serving powerhouse. It’s our first time facing them, give them some slack.]

After losing that point, Coach Luo’s lips moved slightly, but he didn’t signal for a substitution.

On the court, the China team gathered together.

“We underestimated them!” Ning Yang said regretfully. “Their No.1 served out twice and one time right into my hands earlier. I thought he couldn’t control the side-spin, but turns out he saved his real skill for the clutch points!”

Yu Bai clenched his fist. “Sorry. I’ll at least get the ball up next time…”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Even I wouldn’t have been confident receiving that one,” Du Jun comforted him before suggesting, “Ning Yang, let’s widen our receiving area a bit.”

“Got it!”

On Team D’s sideline, Sara strolled leisurely.

No.1 stood at the service line, casting a questioning look toward her.

Sara formed her fingers into a rectangular frame, closing one eye and peering through the frame at No.1:

“Click!”

No.1 understood immediately. Grabbing the ball, he stared straight at Yu Bai —
since the target had already noticed, there was no need to hide it.

The China’s core scorer was also their biggest weak point in receiving.

BEEP—

The whistle blew, and No.1 replicated the exact motion as before.

The ball followed the same curved path, spinning sharply toward Yu Bai…

“Yu Bai!”

The moment the ball left the server’s hand, Ning Yang instinctively shifted closer to Yu Bai, but the fast, sideline-hugging ball was impossible to help with.

Yu Bai didn’t expect anyone to save him anyway.

Learning from the last serve, knowing his eyes couldn’t keep up with the ball’s spin, he moved his arms early toward the previous landing spot—

But his prediction was off. The ball smacked against the side of his arm—

Its speed barely dropped, deflecting sharply toward the backcourt.

Ning Yang instinctively dove for it, managing to tip it up, but the ball flew high and out of bounds…

[It’s over.]
[If only the libero had gone straight for it, maybe they could’ve saved it… now it’s straight into the advertising board.]
[Another ace from their side — help, this set is slipping away! /crying/]
[!]
[No way… is he really going after that ball!?]

On China’s court, a figure dashed forward like a panther, reaction lightning-fast, chasing the ball…

‘Yu Bai, we… have to keep winning.’

Win.

Win!

Yu Bai’s long legs propelled him like a sprinter; in just a few strides, he was near full speed. Straight ahead loomed the advertising boards separating the court from the stands…

“Hey!”

Ning Zhou’s pupils shrank, a jolt of panic sparking through him. His fingertips tingled with electric unease.

He nearly bolted from the bench, “Watch out in front!”

Yu Bai’s ears twitched, but his speed didn’t falter.

He steadied his upper body, his strong back muscles straining against his jersey, arms ready in a perfect passing form.

Then, like a hurdler, his legs powered forward — clearing the advertising board cleanly…

Yu Bai really caught up!

He back-passed the ball in midair, twisted his body, and crashed to the ground, skidding into a row of chairs before finally stopping.

Pushing himself up, Yu Bai kept his eyes locked on the ball as he jogged back toward the court…

Ning Zhou’s legs felt weak, his throat too dry to speak—

That physical ability… was inhuman!

As if someone had thrown a lit match into gasoline, the stadium erupted.

The crowd roared, eyes locked on the ball—

In volleyball, a team can touch the ball at most three times in one rally.

Yu Bai’s first touch receiving the serve was the first. Ning Yang’s wild dig was the second. Yu Bai’s desperate save — the third and last.

If the ball crossed the net, the rally would continue.

The ball’s arc soared high but not far. Everyone in the arena silently prayed: Fly over… cross the net… keep this rally alive!

At the net, China’s middle blocker tilted his head back, tracking the ball — only to watch the hope fade in his eyes…

The ball climbed high but lacked distance, floating down lightly, landing just inches inside China’s court.

BEEP—

Another ace from D Nation’s No.1. The score widened: 19–22.

Yu Bai slowed his steps, stopping behind the advertising board, lost in thought.

The audience, however, made no effort to hide their feelings — a collective groan filled the air…

[So close! Just a little more! /frustrated/]
[If crew-cut bro had just a little more strength on that pass, that would’ve been a highlight-reel miracle save!]
[That was insane already. Clearing the boards like that? I’d have face-planted for sure.]
[If the apocalypse came, this guy would definitely mutate into some zombie king destroying the world with his bare hands…]
[The moment Yu Bai dashed out, my eyes teared up. As long as the ball doesn’t hit the ground, China will never give up! /crying/]
[Giving us hope… and then crushing it. Volleyball gods, you are heartless!]

Ning Yang approached the advertising board, hand outstretched. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Yu Bai clasped his hand briefly and stepped back onto the court.

Ning Yang glanced at the sideline — Coach Luo was signaling to the bench.

Yu Bai started walking toward his receiving position, but Ning Yang blocked him.

“Yu Bai, don’t head over there,” Ning Yang said awkwardly. “Looks like… you’re being subbed out.”

On the bench, Xu Zichang jogged toward Coach Luo, and the buzzer sounded.

Yu Bai turned smoothly and walked toward the sideline.

“Careful…” Ning Yang muttered, voice uneasy, “I think… Zhou Zhou is mad…”

Yu Bai suddenly froze, and when he took his next step, his body felt a bit stiff…

At that moment, whether or not there would be a substitution no longer mattered to him—there was a harsher reality waiting for him back on the bench…

Yu Bai lowered his gaze, keeping his expression calm as he silently returned to the bench, hands neatly hanging at his sides while Coach Luo continued talking.

Ning Zhou glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Are you hurt?”

“…No.”

“No?” Ning Zhou’s tone rose, sharp and icy. “You knocked over a whole row of folding chairs in the stands, and you’re telling me your body’s harder than steel?”

Others on the bench: sweating profusely.jpg

Nie Feiang shuffled away nervously, forcing a laugh. “Uh, you two… you talk, we’ll just, uh, give you space!”

Pang Tianze also took a few steps back, bumping into Song Hanrun, who was already curled up in the corner. “Yeah, let’s just stay here and watch quietly… no need to get in the way…”

Yu Bai instinctively wanted to stand next to Ning Zhou, but his survival instincts screamed for him to avoid the storm. He hesitated, wondering if he should retreat to where Nie Feiang and the others were.

Nie Feiang’s eyes went wide with panic: Holy crap! Terrifying! Don’t come over here! You’re on your own with Zhou Zhou’s wrath!

Yu Bai: “…”

Ning Zhou cleared his throat. “Say something. Are you hurt or not?”

Yu Bai didn’t actually feel any pain at first, but under Ning Zhou’s questioning gaze, he suddenly felt sore everywhere…

He blinked at Nie Feiang in silent plea: Should I say I’m hurt or not?

This time, Ning Zhou didn’t wait for an answer. He reached out, quickly checking Yu Bai for any potential injuries.

Yu Bai stood stiffly, like a doll on a music box being turned around a few times, before hesitantly speaking. “I’m… I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt…”

Ning Zhou stopped, now face-to-face with him.

“Then why did you walk back to the bench so stiffly? Where exactly does it hurt? Is it a muscle strain?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…”

Yu Bai’s words caught in his throat, neither coming out nor going down.

At that moment, a memory of his father’s advice hit him:

‘I don’t even know what I did wrong, but your mom’s been ignoring me for days… Yu Bai, you stick with your sister, I’ll go apologize first.’

“…I’m sorry, Zhou Zhou.”

For the first time in 22 years, Yu Bai offered the most sincere—and utterly clueless—apology of his life.

Ning Zhou’s expression didn’t change. His eyes shimmered faintly, like distant autumn starlight, cool and unreadable. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

Yu Bai’s carefully composed face cracked in an instant…

His dad never taught him what to say after the apology!

“I… didn’t put enough force into that save,” Yu Bai muttered, expression wooden. “I kept shanking the first passes, and even the one I dug out, I couldn’t return properly…”

Ning Zhou’s gaze sharpened, the star-like light in his eyes flickering intensely as he forced down his emotions.

“Yu Bai, I don’t even remember what that play looked like anymore, and in a few minutes, neither will the audience. But if you get injured trying to make a save, the court will forget you without hesitation.”

Yu Bai’s fingers twitched slightly as his eyes flicked up toward the scoreboard.

“We need to win…”

“Yu Bai,” Ning Zhou took a deep breath, voice steady, “even if this were the VNL finals, even if it were the Olympic gold medal match, the first thing I’d ask you is whether you’re hurt.”

He turned, stepping closer until they stood side by side. Hidden from the crowd’s view, Ning Zhou wrapped his hand around one of Yu Bai’s fingers.

“Protect your career. This team needs you…”

Under Ning Zhou’s palm was the athletic tape he’d helped Yu Bai wrap before the match.

Even through the tape, Yu Bai could feel the icy chill of Ning Zhou’s hand.

Their voices were swallowed up by the roaring cheers of the crowd behind them—just as Ning Zhou had said, the audience would soon forget everything that had just happened.

Yu Bai’s ears burned red as he caught Ning Zhou’s voice in the noise, “Don’t get hurt. Be ready for the set at position four.”

“…Okay.”

When Xu Zichang subbed in, he replaced Yu Bai as the starting outside hitter.

Sara immediately recognized him.

During the match between the China team and Team T, Xu Zichang had also come in as a substitute, though that time as the opposite hitter.

According to D Team’s scouting notes: Xu Zichang’s attacks weren’t particularly strong, but his reception was stable, often keeping even tough serves in play.

Sara glanced toward Coach Luo from a distance and smirked.

What a passive substitution. Guess his brain’s rusting now that he’s old…

She raised her hand, signaling toward player #1 and pointing subtly at Xu Zichang.

Keep targeting him. Best case, score an ace. Worst case, at least mess up their reception.

#1 nodded, expression flat.

Despite scoring two consecutive aces, the crowd wasn’t talking about him—they were still buzzing about that save earlier.

From the bench’s awkward angle, #1 couldn’t see Yu Bai, so he poured his frustration into the ball.

BEEP!

The serve launched high, loaded with spin, aimed squarely at Xu Zichang.

“Shit!”

Xu Zichang cursed when he saw the ball’s wicked sidespin.

He’d been watching #1’s serves closely from the bench, but it was a whole different beast facing them on court.

The ball’s trajectory defied logic, breaking every rule of physics in his head.

Ning Yang, frustrated to see the serve avoid him yet again, barked out, “Watch closely!”

Hearing his “master’s” voice, Xu Zichang’s instincts kicked in, and he moved into position for the pass.

In that moment, he silently thanked fate for meeting Ning Yang.

Ning Yang had a thing for practicing with crazy, spinning jump serves.

He always cranked the serving machine to insane settings, justifying it with, “International players pull all sorts of tricks,” forcing Xu Zichang to dig those impossible balls.

Back then, Xu Zichang thought no human could actually serve like that—until now, watching #1’s serve curve midair straight toward him.

There really are monsters in international volleyball!?

Xu Zichang let out a strangled yelp, arms steady as the ball smacked his forearms in a perfect pass.

The volleyball’s spin dropped sharply, and Xu Zichang managed to dig it up, sending it high to the center of the back row.

“Ugh, didn’t take off the spin…” Xu Zichang muttered in frustration, raising his hand to signal to Shao Qiu, “Sorry, I wasn’t in position!”

[He actually got that up!]
[This substitute outside hitter is so average — average height, average build, average spikes, even his looks are average — but he’s never made a major mistake.]
[What’s his name? Xu…?]
[No, I think it’s Xu with a different character…]
[Every time I notice him, he’s just talking to himself at the camera. Does he not know the director never cuts to him? Hahaha!]
[Suddenly feeling sad. The hardworking, unnoticed player… yet the one most desperate for the camera’s attention.]

Shao Qiu sprinted under the ball.

“It’s fine, just getting it up is good enough!”

The ball’s landing point was a bit far from the net. A bump set would’ve been safer, but Shao Qiu didn’t hesitate and went for an overhead set.

His fundamentals were solid, sending the ball precisely to position two at the net.

The opposite hitter faced a double block but tipped it smartly — point scored.

“Beep—”

20:22

The Chinese team had been stuck in the same rotation, unable to score against Team D’s No.1 server, but finally managed to break free.

“Bzz—”

Sara signaled to her assistant coach to call a timeout.

“Huh?” Tong Rong said curiously, “Team D only gave up one point. Why call a timeout now? Doesn’t this disrupt their momentum?”

“You have to understand,” the commentator explained, “Sara took over Team D just over a year ago, and now they’re steadily ranked in the world’s top ten. She’s got a real knack for in-game adjustments.”

Tong Rong thought for a moment, “Ever since Yu Bai’s amazing save, the crowd has been leaning toward cheering for the Chinese team. Could Sara be trying to break that momentum?”

“Could be,” Zhang Kang agreed. “Plus, they’re up by two at the end of the set. They just need to execute one good attack to seal this game. She’s probably planning that play.”

The live feed cut to Team D during their timeout.

Sara, chewing gum lazily, spoke casually to her players.

Tong Rong, experienced with foreign coaches thanks to figure skating, listened for a moment, then summarized, “Just as Coach Zhang predicted — Sara’s setting up their attack strategy for the next rally.”

The timeout ended quickly, and the players returned to the court. The buzzer sounded twice—

Sara’s brows arched slightly as she looked toward Coach Luo, who was talking to the assistant referee.

At the same time, the Chinese team’s opposite hitter dropped the ball and jogged to the sideline — preparing for a substitution.

Sara: ?

A serving substitution?

But under the rules, a player can only be subbed in and out once per set.

Pang Tianze had already been used as a serving substitute in the first set — Coach Luo couldn’t send him in again.

Other than Pang Tianze, there wasn’t anyone on China’s bench reliable enough for such a crucial serve…

Sara mentally reviewed her scouting notes—

Who did Luo usually use in VNL matches as a reliable serving sub…?

Her memory pieced together a faint clue, but she hesitated:

No way… it can’t be him, right?!

When Ning Zhou was called up by the assistant coach, Sara’s last hope crumbled.

Isn’t he the backup setter?

Why are they treating him like a multi-purpose tool, just plugging him in anywhere?

The chat exploded with the same surprise:

[The little substitute is finally getting playtime! /confetti/]
[Wait, why is Ning Zhou subbing for our opposite hitter? His bio says he’s a setter.]
[He’s coming in to serve.]
[But Ning Zhou serves a float jump… why put him in now?]
[Maybe as a mascot to boost morale?]
[Actually true, last time he served, the first ball barely grazed the net and scored. Second serve — ordinary, but the opponent botched the receive. /laugh-cry/]
[20:22, down by two at set point… my heart can’t take this!]
[I was once trusted as a serving sub during a key point.]
[And?]
[And then… I quit the team myself. /it’s a painful memory/]
[Please, Goddess of Luck, bless Zhou Zhou one more time!]

Team D’s assistant coach worked quickly, pulling up information and handing the tablet to Sara.

Ning Zhou had only served twice in this role before — one point was off a lucky net ball.

A serve relying on luck, huh…

Sara thought for a moment, then gestured for her receivers to step forward.

Team D’s back-row players shuffled up a step, ready to defend a potential net-graze serve.

On the other side, Ning Zhou walked onto the court under the weight of every eye in the stadium, calmly giving each teammate a quick high-five.

The second referee blew the whistle sharply, signaling for him not to waste time.

Ning Zhou gave a small nod, unhurriedly making his way to the service line.

The first referee, growing impatient, blew the whistle the moment Ning Zhou had the ball in hand.

In his head, Ning Zhou counted silently, gently patting the ball a few times to feel its weight, letting it spin in his palm out of habit.

Unlike Pang Tianze, who whipped the crowd into a frenzy, Ning Zhou’s quiet presence drew everyone into his own rhythm.

Though his eyes stayed on the ball, his peripheral vision expanded across the entire opposite court —Every passer, even Sara herself, was locked onto him, hyper-alert.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Why treat me like such a threat? I’m nobody special. He exhaled slowly, heartbeat steadying, internal countdown ticking away: But since your No.1 has already earned you enough points on his serve… it’s our turn now, isn’t it?

4, 3, 2, 1…