Unconventional Center

Chapter 33: Here’s a Lion for You

“The purest form of soccer, the ultimate pleasure?” Tian Hong tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “That’s quite a bold claim—but how do you plan to pull it off?” He sounded a bit displeased. Li Jia frowned as well. It’s a major no-no for a layperson to interfere with a professional—and Chu Yang had definitely overstepped his bounds. Tian Hong had merely come to ask for his cooperation on the show; logically speaking, cooperation was Chu Yang’s duty. Tian Hong could have walked away without so much as a word, yet Chu Yang had directly questioned Tian Hong’s plan—that was going a bit too far. Chu Yang—a middle-aged man in his forties when you add up his two lifetimes—was well aware of this. He had absolutely no interest in “Nirvana Video” or “Green Field Magnifier,” but Li Jia was right: the animosity certain domestic fans harbored toward him ran exceptionally deep. He couldn’t honestly claim to have no opinion of such people; even if he could, there was no guarantee his family wouldn’t be affected. Just think about it: Chu Yu’s classmates, Mei Yun’s coworkers and students, and the neighbors and relatives back home—the moment they mention Chu Yang, they all share that unspoken look that says, “He’s a lost cause” or “All talk, no action.” Chu Yang could easily imagine how painful this must be for his family. Although they haven’t said a word, Chu Yang could guess with his eyes closed the kind of gossip and teasing they’re facing: “I heard your son’s playing soccer overseas. When’s he going to make the National Team?” ““I watched the Laco game last night—why didn’t your brother play?” “Oh my! Why give up a good college education to play professional soccer?” and so on. Not a single swear word was spoken, but every word was laced with a bitter, gleeful schadenfreude and scathing sarcasm. Of course, he could prove them wrong with his talent—leading Valencia to La Liga, advancing to the Champions League, and winning the Golden Boot and Ballon d’Or—but how long would that take? Besides, those unscrupulous media outlets certainly wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. Chu Yang was absolutely convinced that the moment his performance faltered, they’d even fabricate stories about him taking performance-enhancing drugs. Even the finest wine fears an obscure alley, so he needed a fair—or even biased—platform to showcase himself. Nirvana Video and *Green Pitch Magnifier* were undoubtedly the best choices. Chu Yang glanced at them, took the manuscript from Tian Hong’s hands, and continued writing on it. Li Jia simply stood up, walked behind Chu Yang, and began reading over his shoulder. “Watching Soccer, Listening to Music? Absolute Superstar? The 108 Heroes of Soccer? Jersey Legends? Top 10? Crazy Soccer? Bei Ying? Hmm, why did you cross out ‘Bei Ying’ again?” “Because you guys can’t pull that off.” No one in this world could pull it off, because you don’t have that beloved figure who’s both pursued and exiled—that favorite and outcast. Tian Hong’s professional skills were still quite impressive. Although he hadn’t seen the specific proposal, the moment these terms—which seemed baffling to outsiders—caught his eye, it was as if they’d opened a door to a whole new world for him. “Watching soccer and listening to music? That’s nothing new, but if the songs are well-chosen, it could be fun; Absolute Superstar? That’s basically a documentary about soccer stars, right? Pretty much what I had in mind; The 108 Heroes of the Soccer World? Is this a one-to-one correspondence between the 108 heroes of Liangshan and soccer stars? That’s kind of interesting; ‘Jersey Legends’? Hmm, that’s a good idea; ‘Crazy Soccer’? ‘Bei Ying’?” Tian Hong snapped out of his frenzied muttering. “What’s ‘Bei Ying’?” “Nothing—just a typo. ‘Back Shades’—it’s a look back at some famous players’ moments of disappointment.” “Exactly!” Tian Hong suddenly shouted, “Everyone else loves to capture a star’s tears when they’re down, but we’ll focus on their backs—that’s the angle we need.” Chu Yang almost couldn’t help rolling his eyes, thinking to himself, You’re getting way ahead of yourself. “No, I’ve got to go ask Xiao Dong for approval.” With that, Tian Hong grabbed the manuscript from the desk and hurried off. Li Jia shook her head. Seeing the exasperated look on Chu Yang’s face, she said, “That’s just how Old Tian is—he’s a bit simple-minded. Don’t take it personally.” “I’m not taking offense—I’m just puzzled,” Chu Yangdao said. “They’re just the names of a few sub-projects, yet he acts like he’s stumbled upon a secret manual. Does he really know how to implement them?” Li Jia：“……” “Xiao Dong is definitely going to call me up in a minute, so I’m not leaving just yet—that way I won’t have to run back later. I’ll just use your Wi-Fi for a bit.” Li Jia didn’t reply. Instead, she walked back to her seat, rummaged through her drawer, and pulled out a few photos, handing them to Chu Yang. “What’s this for?” Chu Yang took them and looked—to his surprise, they were all photos of himself on the field, covering the matches he’d played since arriving in Valencia. “Autographs,” Li Jiadao said. “Our little princess is already a fan of yours.” “Wow, I’m truly honored. Thanks for the praise.” Chu Yang signed his full name on the photo of his incredible curved shot. “Write a few more words, and sign the rest of these too. I’m making an early investment here.” “Investment? What are you investing in?” Chu Yangdao asked. “The little princess’s name?” “Lin Ke’er. Hey, don’t even think about making a move on my daughter—she’s still young,” Li Jiadao said. “I’ve practically become your free agent now—doesn’t that count as an investment?” “Wishing Little Ke’er eternal beauty and happiness?” Li Jia took the photo and, upon seeing it, said discontentedly, “Little sister? You’re really good at climbing the social ladder, aren’t you? You call me ‘sister,’ but you call my daughter ‘little sister’? Write it again.” “Damn! Are your standards that high?” Chu Yang had no choice but to pick up the pen and start scribbling away again. “Come to think of it, this is actually my very first autograph.” “‘May Ke’er have a life of peace and happiness, with sunny days every day’? That’s not bad. I didn’t realize you had some talent.” “Of course. ‘Well-rounded in both arts and martial arts’ perfectly describes yours truly. Give me back the one from earlier.” “No way! It’s your very first autograph—of course I’m keeping it. By the time you become the King of Soccer, this might just get me a villa.” “Thanks for the good luck…” Just as Chu Yanggang was about to crack a couple more jokes, his phone rang. “Xiao Dong, what brings you to call me?” “Come to my office.” Xiao Luo hung up as soon as he finished speaking. “What did Xiao Dong say?” Li Jia tucked the photo away and looked over at him. “What else could he say? He told me to come up.” Chu Yang stood up and put his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s go. I’ll head up there too and see what’s going on.” “You’re kidding, right? You’re actually going up there without Xiao Dong summoning you?” “You’ll be there to cover for me, won’t you?” Li Jia wasn’t the least bit worried; she figured Xiao Luo didn’t usually act like a high-and-mighty boss. Xiao Luo’s office was on the top floor. While the decor wasn’t particularly luxurious, it had a grand feel to it. Besides Xiao Luo and Tian Hong, Club Chairman Chen Ping and Xiao Luo’s pretty young secretary, Yuman, were also present. Xiao Luo motioned for Chu Yang and Li Jia to sit down. Without beating around the bush, he said directly, “I take the program *Green Field Magnifier* very seriously.” “How seriously?” Xiao Luo picked up the sheet of paper Chu Yang had written on from the desk, tapped it lightly, and said, “If this succeeds, I’ll give you a lion.”