I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

Dust rose slightly on the football field in the back garden of Prince Duan's mansion.

Twenty-two men, dressed in indigo and ochre, ran, shouted, and charged within a designated area.

The ball rolled rapidly on the grass, sometimes kicked high into the air, tracing an arc, and sometimes passed back and forth between the players, searching for an opening.

Zhao Ji is playing as a striker today.

He wore ochre-red sashes and a crimson headband, and when he ran, he looked like a ball of fire.

Just as Zhao Ji received a diagonal pass from midfield, he gently flicked the ball past the onrushing defender in blue with the outside of his foot, then glanced at the goal.

"Your Highness, over here!"

The one who shouted was Zhao Mingcheng.

He played in the right midfield position today, keeping a low profile, but his runs were always perfectly timed, appearing exactly where support was most needed.

He had already slipped in and was temporarily unguarded.

Zhao Ji didn't try to take credit for himself; he pushed the ball with the instep of his foot, and it rolled quickly along the grass to the right wing.

The pass was smooth, and Zhao Mingcheng didn't need to adjust. He took a quick step and accelerated down the sideline.

"Stop him!" shouted the defender of the Blue Shirt team.

Two people immediately rushed over to block them.

Zhao Mingcheng remained calm, glanced up at the penalty area, and saw that Zhao Ji had already moved to the vicinity of the penalty spot, with someone closely following him.

He feinted a cross, creating half a body space, and before the opponent could extend their foot a second time, he delivered a low cross with his left foot.

The ball wasn't fast, but its trajectory was cunning, bypassing the defender at the near post and rolling right into the path Zhao Ji was running.

Before the defenders could block him, Zhao Ji met the ball with a low shot!

The goalkeeper couldn't make the save, and the ball went into the net.

"Good shot!" Zhao Ji shouted, raised his arm, turned around and ran towards Zhao Mingcheng, laughing as he patted him on the shoulder.

"Mingcheng, you delivered that brilliantly! The timing was perfect!"

Zhao Mingcheng smiled and wiped away his sweat.

"It's because Your Highness positioned yourself well and shot decisively."

"Come on, your pass was perfect in terms of power and trajectory," Zhao Ji said enthusiastically.

"We're much better than those guys who just kick the ball forward! Mingcheng, do you think we should design more combinations on the flanks for our '4-3-3' formation? That cross from the wing just now was really good."

As the two were talking, a gasp suddenly came from the sidelines.

A defender in blue tried to clear the ball too forcefully, and with a "whoosh," the ball flew high into the air, heading straight towards the spectators outside the field.

There stood several servants, and a strange man who had just been led in by the gatekeeper was waiting with his hands at his sides and his head bowed.

The man was dressed in a worn-out bluish-gray short trousers, like a servant from some mansion, and he was holding a brocade box in his hands.

As the ball hurtled towards him with a whoosh, he instinctively looked up, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but his reflexes were surprisingly quick.

In a flash, instead of dodging, he met the incoming ball head-on, deftly flicking it upwards with the toe of his left foot.

The ball, which was powerful and spinning intensely, was surprisingly deflected by this seemingly casual flick, and bounced up about a foot.

Before the ball could hit the ground, the man deftly tapped it with the instep of his right foot, and the ball bounced up again, landing steadily on the instep of his right foot without moving an inch.

The entire movement was fluid and effortless. Every man running and vying for the ball on the field was strong and physically robust, someone who had trained for a long time.

But they knew they couldn't control the ball with such finesse and dexterity, or effortlessly deflect force.

"Impressive skills!" Zhao Ji was the first to applaud.

The man seemed to realize what he had done only then.

A look of panic flashed across his face, and he quickly used the inside of his foot to gently flick the ball off the instep, sending it back to the nearest player on the field. His movements were still standard and fluid.

He immediately bowed, lowered his head, and held the brocade box with utmost respect.

Zhao Ji had already strode over, with Zhao Mingcheng following beside him.

"Who are you?" Zhao Ji sized him up with interest. "Your ball control is quite good. Have you practiced?"

The man lowered his head even further and spoke respectfully.

"Your Highness, my name is Gao Qiu, and I am a servant in the household of the Imperial Son-in-Law, Commandant Wang Shen. I have come on the orders of my commander to pay my respects to Your Highness and to present you with several newly acquired fine combs."

As he spoke, he raised the brocade box slightly with both hands.

"So it's from Wang Jinqing's residence." Zhao Ji nodded, his mind clearly still on the ball.

"Those two moves you made just now were quite skillful; they weren't just random kicks, were they?"

Gao Qiu bowed, his tone humble.

"I've only learned a few days of Cuju (ancient Chinese football), it's just a trivial skill, and it would offend Your Highness's esteemed eyes."

Zhao Mingcheng stood to the side and behind Zhao Ji, quietly watching Gao Qiu.

It seems that the historical connections are unavoidable.

A complex emotion flashed through Zhao Mingcheng's mind, but it was all for the best. What was meant to happen would happen eventually. He would meet him sooner or later.

However, the current situation is quite different from the original historical trajectory.

Zhao Mingcheng composed himself, a gentle smile appearing on his face. He took a half-step forward and spoke.

"Your Highness, this Brother Gao Qiu's skills are indeed extraordinary. That ball came with such speed and elusive force, yet he handled it with ease, demonstrating truly exquisite footwork. It seems that the Prince Consort Wang's residence is indeed a place where hidden talents reside."

Upon hearing this, Gao Qiu quickly glanced at Zhao Mingcheng before lowering his head again.

Seeing that Zhao Mingcheng had a scholarly demeanor, yet stood side by side with Prince Duan, chatting and laughing freely, and that the prince treated him with great intimacy, he knew that Zhao must be a very close and influential person in the prince's life, and his attitude became even more respectful.

Gao Qiu bowed slightly in the direction of Zhao Mingcheng.

"You flatter me, sir. I am unworthy of such praise."

Zhao Mingcheng nodded to Gao Qiu, then turned to Zhao Ji, his tone relaxed.

"His Highness admires those with superb skills. The play that Brother Gao just watched is different from the usual 'Bai Da' and 'Zhu Qiu'. It's called 'Football.' It's a new game that His Highness has recently created out of interest. It needs someone knowledgeable to help him figure out its fun."

"Exactly!" Zhao Ji, inspired by Zhao Mingcheng's words, became even more talkative and began to speak to Gao Qiu, his pace quickening considerably.

"This football game doesn't have any fancy moves; it's played on the ground, and it's all about intercepting and passing the ball. The team that kicks the ball into the goal wins."

Zhao Ji pointed to the distant goal.

"You can run, you can steal, you can ram – a 22-player battle in a large arena, that's what I call exhilarating! It's a completely different experience from the old games!"

Gao Qiu listened attentively, his face revealing a look of surprise and curiosity.

He was an expert in Cuju (ancient Chinese football), having immersed himself in the sport for many years. Upon hearing the rules, he immediately realized the difference.

Instead of emphasizing individual skill, it focuses on running, competition, and teamwork – this is a completely different approach.

"Mingcheng, you explain it to him; you can explain it more clearly than I can."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Emperor Huizong assigned the task of explaining the topic to Zhao Mingcheng.

Zhao Mingcheng continued.

"Simply put, you kick the ball with your feet, and you can also use your head, shoulders, chest, knees, and legs to control and pass the ball. There are eleven players on the field, divided into forwards, midfielders, defenders, and goalkeepers, each with their own role."

"It's not enough for just one person to be good; the whole team needs to run, pass, find openings, and strike decisively," he said to Gao Qiu with a smile.

"Brother Gao is an expert; he can tell at a glance that this way of playing is completely different from the skill-based 'blank fighting' style, right?"

Gao Qiu immediately bowed.

"Your Highness and the young master explained it to me, and I suddenly understood. This method... this method emphasizes the overall situation and coordination, which is indeed very different from the old plays. I only listened to a few sentences, but I already felt... itching to try it."

He spoke the last few words carefully, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable, exactly like his sleazy appearance in history.

Seeing his earnest expression, Zhao Ji burst into laughter.

"Talk is cheap! Gao Qiu, you have the skills and the interest, why don't you come down and try your footwork?" He pointed to several spare short-sleeved shirts hanging on the wooden rack by the side of the field.

"Change your clothes and play for a while! Let me see how much of your skill you have left in this large arena!"

Gao Qiu was both surprised and delighted. To be personally invited by Prince Duan was an immense honor.

But he was also worried. He was of lowly status, and the game was novel. What if he didn't play it well and displeased the prince?

"Your Highness has given the order, how could I dare disobey? But..." He hesitated, looking at Zhao Mingcheng, seemingly hoping to get some hints from this seemingly easy-going "young master".

"I am a humble and unskilled person, completely ignorant of this new law, and I fear my clumsiness may spoil the enjoyment of Your Highness and all of you..."

Zhao Mingcheng understood his gaze and smiled slightly.

"Brother Gao, there's no need to be so modest. The Prince is just worried about having few kindred spirits. Since you already have a solid foundation, you'll definitely pick it up quickly. The fun of football lies in trying and getting used to each other. Come on,"

Zhao Mingcheng beckoned to a servant standing by the side of the field.

"Someone take him to change his clothes. It'll also be a good opportunity for Your Highness to see his footwork."

Gao Qiu had long harbored this intention and was deeply grateful, bowing deeply to Zhao Mingcheng.

"Thank you for your guidance, young master."

He then bowed to Zhao Ji.

"Your Highness, I will go change my clothes now."

Watching Gao Qiu hurriedly walk towards the small house by the field with his attendants, Zhao Mingcheng withdrew his gaze.

He could hear Zhao Ji's excited chatter in his ear, saying he wanted to see what new tricks this newcomer could bring.

Zhao Mingcheng wore a faint smile, but his mind was perfectly clear.

Gao Qiu has finally arrived. It seems that this connection, which began with "balls," is destined to continue.

However, the rules of the stadium today were established with the help of Zhao Mingcheng.

Zhao Mingcheng secured his position as the Prince Duan's "number one playmate" and "chief confidant" step by step, and no one else will be able to take that position in the future.

No matter how good Gao Qiu's ball skills were, or how clever and insightful he was, in the heart of this future emperor, and in the possible records of history, he would probably never be more than a "playmate".

Gao Qiu's potential has been firmly limited by Zhao Mingcheng.

Historically, it was better for the world to keep Grand Commandant Gao firmly in the position of "playmate" than to let him climb up the original trajectory of his destiny.

"Mingcheng, what are you daydreaming about?" Zhao Ji nudged his arm.

"Come on, let's go get some water. You still need to explain the 4-2-3-1 formation to me later!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Zhao Mingcheng replied with a smile, gathering his thoughts.

Zhao Mingcheng and Zhao Ji walked side by side toward the shaded area by the field.

The wind blows across the field, carrying the scent of grass and dust. A new game is about to begin, and a familiar "old" player will join the fray.

Here, the river of history quietly makes a small, yet potentially meaningful, turn.