The World Cup journey had thus concluded, yet the ripples of its aftermath were far from over, perhaps only just beginning.
The very next morning, Cao Baiming slowly opened his eyes.
The hotel mattress remained as soft and comfortable as ever; this was the most luxurious room in the most opulent hotel in the city.
However, it wouldn't be long before they bid farewell to this place.
According to the original plan, after the match ended, they would spend one last night in this very hotel. Players needed to get ample rest, and there was no reason to linger any longer the following day.
The team's plane would carry them all back to their respective countries.
Perhaps their fans were already eagerly anticipating the triumphant return of these heroes.
Yet, this time, the defeat lingered, and the players hadn't fully emerged from its shadow, still feeling a sense of disappointment.
It wasn't due to a subpar performance or failing to meet their initial expectations. Rather, as the competition progressed, their aspirations had unconsciously risen. Especially in the final moments, being so close to lifting the World Cup, only to have it slip away, was the most agonizing feeling.
Last night, many of the "Candy Team" players had once again dreamt of that scene: walking onto the podium to receive their runner-up medals, the World Cup a mere two meters away, so close they could almost feel it as it passed by, only fifty centimeters separating them.
Though perhaps unrealistic, many felt as though they could sense its material, its texture, even its scent.
Those fifty centimeters were perhaps the furthest distance in the world, tantalizingly out of reach.
At noon, after being reminded by his teammates, Cao Baiming joined them for their final grand meal at the hotel's basement level. They skipped any afternoon rest and headed straight to the airport.
A large passenger jet would transport the entire team back to Tang Country. Everyone was full and ready to sleep soundly on the flight.
The plane took off, accompanied by an incredibly powerful roar and the deafening screech of tires against the tarmac. Yet, inside the cabin, it was remarkably serene. The seats were specially crafted with a soft cushion, offering ample legroom between them.
A gentle, warm yellow light illuminated the cabin. Luggage was stowed in the overhead compartments, and everyone settled into their seats, buckling their seatbelts.
Despite having eaten well, the in-flight meal was still an essential part of the experience. Just two delicate mini-cakes and a cup of coffee, a standard offering, wouldn't cause any discomfort in their current state.
The cabin floor was covered with a plush carpet, flat beneath their feet. Walking down the aisle, even through their shoes, provided a soft, cloud-like sensation.
Moreover, a delightful fragrance permeated the air, far from the ordinary scent of air freshener. It was a blend of jasmine, lily, and other floral notes, exuding a sophisticated and intoxicating aroma.
The mini-cakes were topped with a layer of cream, which in turn was covered with a thin layer of raspberry-flavored chocolate crisp. But this was merely the outer shell. The interior encased at least seven distinctly different ingredients, each with its own texture: soft, chewy, firm, gelatinous, and elastic. Each layer offered a completely unique sensation.
Taking a single bite, all seven distinct textures and flavors melded together in a perfect chemical reaction, evoking a profound sense of happiness from deep within.
One might dismiss it as just a small cake, but it represented unparalleled human ingenuity. In comparison, the invention of the aircraft itself seemed to pale in significance.
Paired with a sip of chilled coffee, it was a match made in heaven, instantly transporting one to the heavens, walking among the clouds.
However, if one were to open the small window's blackout shade and gaze outside, they would realize they were indeed walking among the clouds.
In such moments, fatigue vanished, replaced by a sense of intoxication and tranquility.
Though the sun shone brightly outside, the sky was now blanketed by clouds, obscuring almost everything. Looking out the window, only two colors were visible: pure white and clean blue.
The aircraft's wings and the small engine propellers could also be seen, accented with a touch of lemon yellow, the only solid color in the entire panorama. For some reason, this small ribbon of color appeared so striking, so dazzling.
Beneath the clouds undoubtedly lay the vast ocean. The plane had been flying for tens of minutes, long since leaving the urban areas.
To return to Tang Country, they had to cross this vast expanse of sea. But now, obscured by clouds, they couldn't fully appreciate its breathtaking beauty.
Yet, faintly, one could almost hear the roar of colossal waves crashing, a steady, rhythmic sound like the very cadence of nature.
It wasn't just the sound; the imagination conjured the scent, as if it had already permeated the cabin walls and glass, reaching their nostrils. At this moment, people might realize it was merely an illusion, but when an illusion felt so real, did its nature truly matter?
The plane flew against the wind. What were their families back home feeling at this moment?
Would their failure to bring back the World Cup disappoint the fans? Would anyone still come out to greet them?
At this point, all of that seemed unimportant. A deep weariness washed over Cao Baiming, and he closed his eyes, falling asleep in the warm, comfortable cabin.
Soft instrumental music, calm and elegant, filled the cabin, making it impossible to feel tense. It encouraged gradual relaxation, and then more relaxation, until sleep finally claimed them.