Lin smiled. "Soccer is not about power. It's about precision. And precision comes from practice, even when no one is watching."
The bullies stared. "How did you do that?"
Wham!
The ball didn't just stop. It shot back like an arrow, curved around the first bully, spun past the second, and rolled perfectly between the third bully's legs—into a mud puddle they were using as a goal.
Lin had no teammates. He had no cleats. But he had one month of kicking tiles.
In a poor village nestled at the foot of a mountain, young Lin dreamed of being a soccer star. But he had no boots, no grass field, and no teammates. All he had was a half-deflated ball made of woven bamboo. Worse, the village bullies laughed at him. "Soccer is for rich kids with fancy cleats," they sneered. "Go back to sweeping the temple steps."