After all, the only place William Grant had seen someone play ball like this was in videos of the king of polo.

His own father, Richard Grant, was at least the most outstanding ball player of his era—otherwise, how could he have played his way to the position of Grand Commandant?

At this thought, William Grant's feelings became extremely complicated. The foolish emperor Zhao Ji liked playing ball, so his father was able to rise to high office.

If the emperor hadn’t been foolish, his father would at most have been a top star in one of the ball clubs of the Song Dynasty, earning enough for the family to live comfortably.

How could he possibly be living so well now, eating and drinking to his heart’s content, even sparring with the treacherous minister Cai Jing in court?

The ball his father was playing with now was called cuqiu, a sport historically known as cuju.

In the early days, the ball used in cuju was sewn from leather and stuffed with feathers or similar materials.

By the Tang Dynasty, the form of cuju changed greatly, with the feather stuffing replaced by animal bladders.

Because bladders could be inflated, this allowed the solid ball to evolve into an air-filled one, wrapped in eight pieces of leather, with excellent elasticity.

After personally experiencing it, William Grant felt this thing was already very close to modern soccer.

“Zhang’er, you’re here…” Richard Grant had already caught sight of his beloved son William Grant out of the corner of his eye, and as the ball dropped once more—

He tilted his body slightly and, with an effortlessly light movement of his foot, stopped the heavy ball right at his feet.

This skill—probably even a thousand years later, members of the six-pack team could only look up to the sky and sigh in admiration.

William Grant walked up to his father Richard Grant with a beaming smile, and the two of them started chatting and joking.

Seeing that his father was in low spirits, William Grant decided to get straight to the point.

“Father, you seem troubled. Is something the matter? Can you tell me about it?”

Hearing this, the somewhat absent-minded Richard Grant felt a warmth in his heart.

Truly his beloved son—filial and thoughtful. Seeing his father troubled, he even took the initiative to offer comfort.

What a pity, he’s still just a child. As a father, how could he bear to let his son shoulder such a burden?

Richard Grant raised his large hand and gently patted William Grant’s shoulder with a smile.

“Oh, my son, to have such filial piety brings me great comfort. But you are still too young…”

These words made the not-yet-fully-grown William Grant’s face darken, and he protested unhappily.

“Father, that’s not fair. Since ancient times, Gan Luo became a minister at twelve. Your son may be a little short of twelve, but I’m no ordinary child.”

Seeing his son’s expression, Richard Grant couldn’t help but laugh heartily. But the problem was, he had been ordered by the emperor to stay home and reflect on his mistakes.

Such matters—Zhang’er was just a child. Telling him wouldn’t help anyway.

But since Zhang’er usually liked playing ball with him, Richard Grant showed a loving smile at the thought.

“All right, all right, my son is ambitious. Hmm… Actually, there is something troubling me, and it’s about this ball…”

“What about the ball?” William Grant looked rather surprised at the ball his father had flicked up with his toe.

Richard Grant examined the ball in his hand, his expression very serious.

“Zhang’er, you must know that your father and His Majesty became acquainted through ball games, often making friends through playing…”

William Grant nodded in agreement, taking the ball from his father and squeezing it. The elasticity and feel were both excellent.

After all, this was a proper ball—making friends through ball games made perfect sense.

From what his father meant, he’d been playing ball much less these past two years than before.

Mainly, his skill was so high that he was unrivaled, like a lone master seeking defeat.

At most, he’d occasionally play a few matches to work up a sweat and have some fun.

He no longer had the same tireless passion and fighting spirit for playing as before.

The main reason was that there were only two ways to play ball in the Song Dynasty.

One was fancy ball play, similar to kicking shuttlecocks—high-flying moves, with round goals set in the air. If the ball touched the ground, the other side scored; to score, the ball couldn’t touch the ground.

This style was more popular, especially since men, women, young, and old in the Song all enjoyed it.

The other was rougher, favored by soldiers, and more similar to modern soccer.

He had already mastered both styles and found them rather uninteresting.

After venting his complaints, Richard Grant couldn’t help but sigh.

“His Majesty once asked me if these two ways of playing ball were really the limit.

Is there any other way to play that would be endlessly fascinating and never get old?”

“So, I’ve been thinking—just how else can this ball be played? What new tricks could win His Majesty’s favor?”

“……”

Chapter 12: His Highness the Prince of Yan Sends Someone to Invite the Young Master

Looking at his father Richard Grant, who had played his way to Grand Commandant of the Song through ball games, now deeply pondering the expansion and extension of ball sports—

William Grant, with a face full of exasperation, wiped his face and sighed up at the sky.

Good thing this is my father. If it were my own kid, if I didn’t smack him until he bawled and obediently immersed himself in the sea of knowledge, I’d be surprised.