Chapter Eight: The Virtuous Wife

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Hearing his phone ring again, Wang Lie, who had just been about to stand up, sighed helplessly and turned to look at the screen of his phone, which was wirelessly charging.

Since the news that he would have to sit and eat with the kids spread, his phone had been nonstop.

People both inside and outside his contacts called and messaged him to confirm details and inquire.

His phone was nearly drained, which was why he had just placed it on the charger...

Among the callers were his team members, former teammates, business partners, media reporters who still had his contact information, and friends—though the Traveler said he didn’t have many close friends, it didn’t mean he had none. There were always those who appreciated Wang Lie’s character. Besides, humans are social creatures; Wang Lie was not the kind of lone wolf who could completely detach from relationships. Having lived nearly thirty-eight years, his social network inevitably included some connections.

Everyone cared about him, though their reasons varied.

Some genuinely worried about him, standing on his side to criticize Helden and the club.

Some merely sought to extract unknown clues for a scoop.

Others, ostensibly concerned, actually feared the impact on business partnerships and their own investments.

Some advised him to lower his head, not to let things get worse, since in the end he was the one who would be hurt. It was clear to all that the club offered unconditional support to head coach Helden; Wang Lie’s actions were like an egg hitting a stone.

Wang Lie didn’t want to hear meaningless advice, but he also refrained from confronting them as he had with Hall. Instead, he gently expressed that such talk was pointless now.

All they could do was sigh and wish him luck before ending the call.

The leader of China’s national team, Shen Dongsheng, and the head coach, He Zhenyong, both called separately to inquire and express concern about whether Wang Lie had found a new team. Wang Lie honestly replied, “Not yet...”

Hearing this, Shen Dongsheng comforted him and assured him the national team’s door was never closed.

Head coach He Zhenyong was silent for a few seconds before asking, “Still not considering playing domestically?”

Wang Lie retorted, “Would returning home guarantee a spot on the national team, Coach He?”

He Zhenyong was frank: “That depends on your performance. But I believe as long as you can consistently play, regain your rhythm and form, with your ability, returning to the national team shouldn’t be a problem. Like Chu Yu...”

Chu Yu, a key center-back and vice-captain of the Chinese national team, had previously played in Europe. He left his long-term club, Berlin Star in the Bundesliga, last summer and now plays for Nanhe Jiuding.

Wang Lie thanked He Zhenyong for his honesty and asked more candidly, “Coach He, if I return home, can I still be the attacking core of the national team after consistently playing?”

Since the 2035 Asian Cup jointly hosted by Vietnam, Malaysia, and Thailand, China’s offensive tactics have been centered largely around Chi Zhen.

Even if Wang Lie remained on the national team, he was no longer the offensive core. There are players better suited to the forward and striker positions in the current system.

Faced with Wang Lie’s straightforward question, He Zhenyong was silent even longer.

Wang Lie understood the answer: “So I want to try to rescue myself first, Coach He.”

Against Wang Lie’s stubbornness bordering on obsession, the coach had no words. He had been tasked with renewing and revitalizing the team since the Asian Cup. Some things must be done, no matter the criticism.

He understood Wang Lie’s psychological gap after falling from the peak, the difficulty in accepting such loss.

But as head coach, he had to take responsibility for the entire team, not just one individual.

Since the Asian Cup a year and a half ago, after adjustments and growing pains, the national team’s offensive tactics finally took shape and achieved the desired effect.

So, no matter what, the team could not revert to old patterns.

Especially for Wang Lie, nearly thirty-eight, it was impossible to return to his peak and truly lead this national team.

Having learned all he needed and said all he could, He Zhenyong took the initiative to say goodbye and ended the call.

Wang Lie immediately placed the phone back on the wireless charger, only to hear it ring again.

Honestly, after a night of answering so many calls and dealing with people of varied intentions, Wang Lie was growing impatient.

However, when he saw the caller ID, he quickly answered and turned on the speakerphone.

His wife Tang Xingmei’s voice came through: “Ah, finally got through! I called several times before but you were busy like the mayor’s hotline!”

Wang Lie laughed at his wife’s joke, then noticing the time—8:34 PM in Manchester, 4:34 AM back home—frowned and asked, “You’re still awake?”

“I was asleep but woke up, thought I’d check my phone, and then I saw your news...”

Tang Xingmei lied—she had actually been woken by her mother-in-law’s sighing in the living room. She got up to check and learned from her mother-in-law that her husband had been sent by coach Helden to sit with the youth team.

A mother always worries about her son, even if he was nearly forty. Her mother-in-law Zhou Hong had been sleeping poorly lately, scrolling through news late into the night, watching for anything about Wang Lie. Then she saw the “explosive news” that her son had been demoted to the youth team by Helden...

Not knowing who else to turn to, she sighed in the living room until waking Tang Xingmei.

Tang Xingmei didn’t tell Wang Lie this to avoid him worrying about his mother. Last July, when her mother fell and was hospitalized, it had scared Wang Lie enough to have Tang rush home from Manchester to care for her mother and the kids, staying mostly in China since then, only occasionally visiting the UK. This was the reverse of their previous arrangement—before, she lived mainly in the UK with her husband, visiting home occasionally.

With enough troubles already, she didn’t want Wang Lie to worry about family matters.

Wang Lie could be as tough as stone with the likes of Hall and Helden, but with his ever-silent supportive wife, he felt guilty: “Sorry to trouble you.”

“I’m fine. Your pressure is bigger. Have you really broken with them completely?”

“Yes. Today, they asked me to apologize to the coaching staff... actually just Helden. They tried to make it sound like a problem with the whole coaching team, but really it’s just me and Helden. I refused, and Helden sent me to train with the youth team. The funny thing is, not only am I not allowed to train with the first team, I’m not even allowed to use the first team’s cafeteria,” Wang Lie said lightly, as if recounting an amusing anecdote to his wife.

Though he spoke lightly, Tang Xingmei knew this was serious—no matter how big the conflict with Helden had been before, it had never openly broken down like this.

She worried deeply but kept calm. Calling in the middle of the night, she wanted to understand the situation to report back to her mother-in-law and to comfort her husband.

As his “psychological masseuse,” she knew not to show anxiety or impatience; that would only make him anxious too.

After hearing his story, she laughed: “That’s really funny. No wonder everyone online is joking about you sitting with the kids’ table. So, did you eat in the youth team’s cafeteria tonight?”

“No...” Wang Lie paused, then regretfully said, “Ah, I should’ve tried the youth team’s food. You know, I’ve been at Solford United for ten years and never eaten in the youth team’s cafeteria.”

“Then go try it tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll make a video.”

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“Make a video? You think you’re a food blogger now?” Tang Xingmei couldn’t help but tease.

Unexpectedly, her teasing inspired Wang Lie: “Hey, maybe a food review video isn’t such a bad idea. Tomorrow I’ll post it online to show everyone what the youth team eats.”

Tang Xingmei knew he was trying to find humor in hardship and joined in the laughter without exposing his pretense.

But in the next moment, Wang Lie confronted her with harsh reality: “What do you think, if I really return home to play?”

Tang Xingmei hadn’t expected him to bring this up and hesitated for a moment before cautiously asking, “Haven’t you always been unwilling to play domestically?”

“Yeah, I still don’t want to. I just feel... unwilling, so unwilling...” Wang Lie murmured repeatedly.

Tang Xingmei thought perhaps after today’s complete fallout, he felt lost in Europe with no place to belong, showing a rare vulnerable side.

She had previously urged him to seriously consider returning home and now encouraged him: “Things probably aren’t that bad yet. Your agent’s team has only looked for big clubs in Europe, so why not consider lowering your standards? Does it have to be a Champions League club?”

“Only big clubs can afford my salary—I’m willing to take a pay cut, but my team has many people to support. I’d play for free if I could, but my team can’t work for free. Besides, it’s a two-way choice. Sometimes it’s not just me picking who I want; the other side chooses me too. Do you think a relegation-threatened team would be interested in me? If they are, it’s only for my market value, which benefits me nothing. Why would I go?” Wang Lie explained.

Tang Xingmei didn’t agree: “That’s not true, Wang. Not all smaller clubs want you just for your popularity, and not all are uncompetitive. The reason they haven’t contacted you might be they think you wouldn’t choose them anyway, so they don’t bother. The clubs rumored to you before were all big clubs. Of course they assumed you’d look down on them. Why waste their time?”

Wang Lie didn’t argue but responded with a soft “hmm,” unclear if agreeing or dismissing.

Tang Xingmei continued: “I still have to criticize you. You were a superstar and achieved great things, but you must realize you’re not who you used to be. No matter how you feel inside, the outside world sees you as old and unable to keep pace with European football. Helden’s refusal to give you a chance for half a season factors in, but objectively, how many thirty-eight-year-olds can be starters in top clubs?”

She heard heavier breaths from him but pressed on: “Look at the striker position—how many are there? People judging you as ‘finished’ based on current facts can’t be entirely blamed for not recognizing your true worth.

“You need a chance to prove yourself. Since you’re unwilling to return home yet, you must lower your standards and join a club where you can play regularly, no matter their league position.

“Play first, regain form, stabilize your performance, then prove those people wrong. The World Cup is one and a half years away—there’s still time.

“Your competitive spirit is good, but sometimes you have to choose your battles wisely. Stepping back isn’t admitting defeat; it can be making room for a stronger sprint. Don’t you think?”

Seeing Wang Lie still silent, she added: “Think of it like ‘playing dumb to fool the tiger’—play dumb first, then strike. Make a list of those who are celebrating now; a gentleman’s revenge isn’t late at one and a half years.”

Wang Lie finally responded with a laugh: “What kind of saying is that—‘one and a half years isn’t late’?”

Hearing this, Tang Xingmei knew he’d taken her words to heart and relieved herself secretly, though she kept her tone firm: “We can’t wait ten years. Realistically, aiming for the World Cup in one and a half years is more practical. If you perform well there, this time can be seen as a period of training and preparation.”

“You’re right, my love. I’ll have Fernando expand the clubs he contacts,” Wang Lie said, his tone sincere.

“Good.” Seeing him convinced, Tang Xingmei stopped arguing.

“Thanks, darling. It has to be you...” Wang Lie added.

“Why so formal?” Tang Xingmei’s mood brightened, joking: “Ever heard ‘no good deed goes unpunished’?”

Wang Lie didn’t take the joke, replying earnestly: “Nothing, just want to hug you...”

Tang Xingmei was silent.

In her husband’s hardest moments, she wasn’t by his side. How she wished she could embrace him right now.

Sensing a bittersweet mood between them, Wang Lie swiftly changed the subject: “Thanks for taking care of my mom. She’s old and still recovering from her fall. It’s inconvenient for her alone—thank you...”

“What are you saying? She’s my mom too,” Tang Xingmei chided. “Alright, I’m really tired. I have to take your son to school tomorrow, so I’ll stop chatting.”

“Okay, thanks for everything, love. Go to sleep. I love you!”

“Love you too!”

After his wife ended the call, Wang Lie looked at his still charging phone screen, which lit up again.

His mood brightened like that screen.

Though he appeared tough or indifferent in front of those who cared, deep down he was affected by all this.

Previously resistant to returning home, he now brought up the topic with his wife—an indication of his low spirits and feeling trapped.

He used the advantage of being in a weaker domestic league to convince himself he might score more and somehow turn back the clock.

Although he didn’t know how many goals would make him younger, if he could restore his body to pre-thirty years...

He was genuinely tempted by the idea of playing at home.

But after his wife’s counsel, Wang Lie decided to keep trying in Europe at least until the winter transfer window closed at the end of January, or even until March when the Chinese Super League’s transfer window was still open.

He wasn’t ready to leave Europe in defeat.

His wife said a gentleman’s revenge isn’t late at one and a half years, but the World Cup was too far off. He wanted to slap those people’s faces now.

Just as he was about to call his agent Fernando Clemente, the phone rang again.

※※※

Looking at the serious-faced Sam McNeil, César Varo was surprised: “Still no connection? Looks like you’re not the only one thinking this...”

Before he finished, McNeil’s expression brightened: “Connected!”

“Ah?”

McNeil frowned again: “No answer...”

“Er...”

“Answered!”

Varo fell silent.

A smile appeared on McNeil’s face, his voice softened: “Hi, Wang, good evening! How are you? Busy now?”

※※※

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“You’re here to ask what happened at Heaton today? I didn’t think you liked gossip, Sam,” Wang Lie said with surprise upon seeing the caller ID.

He and Sam McNeil had been teammates at Solford United but were not particularly close. Since McNeil left the club, they hadn’t kept in touch.

“Oh no, I’m no tabloid reporter,” McNeil laughed. “I know you hate beating around the bush, so I’ll be direct. Honestly, I want to ask if you’re not staying at Solford United this winter, would you consider joining us at Tyne?”

For a moment, Wang Lie suspected McNeil had been eavesdropping on his call with his wife—what a coincidence! He had just mentioned relegation clubs, and now a relegation club was calling.

Real-life data?

McNeil coached Tyne, currently 13th in the Premier League.

That seemed decent enough—13th out of 20 is mid-table.

But they had only 18 points, just three above the relegation zone.

One bad game and they could fall into the drop zone.

They really were a relegation-threatened team.

If it were before, Wang Lie might have politely but firmly declined a club like Tyne.

But after talking with his wife, he wasn’t so impulsive and decided to listen to McNeil’s pitch.

Unaware of Wang Lie’s thoughts, McNeil noticed silence after stating his intent, as if the line went dead—maybe the signal was bad.

He tried to get a response when Wang Lie said, “Sam, you took over Tyne last November, right?”

“Yes, November 12, after the 15th round.”

“What position was Tyne in before you took over?”

McNeil didn’t understand why Wang Lie asked but answered honestly: “19th. That’s why I came to put out the fire.”

“Four rounds later, you’re 13th. Not bad, Sam.”

McNeil smiled bitterly: “Don’t mock me, Wang. I’ve done all I can, and we’re still only three points above relegation. I wish I could brag the team was on track, but we’re still stuck in the mud, so I need your help.”

“I think you’re the one teasing me, Sam. I’ll be 38 next month, and in half a season at Solford United, I’ve played less than four full matches. What help can I offer? Don’t you know all Europe avoids me like the plague? They even gave me a new nickname: ‘Yellow Peril.’”

“Damn it! Don’t lump me in with those racist bastards, Wang! I’m serious. Tyne needs an experienced top star like you who’s achieved great success. You wouldn’t be a mascot here. I need you one hundred percent, both in the locker room and tactically.”

McNeil’s tone was firm.

He had worked with Wang Lie and knew his character. Wang needed unconditional trust and support to feel needed and valued.

So showing unwavering belief was crucial.

“Besides, the club bought many players. Though some investments were wasted, there are good players too. We have the strength, but previous coaches failed to gel them well. Since I came, I’ve been working on this and made some progress, but it’s not enough! In this process, I increasingly feel Tyne needs a true leader to inject soul into the team. And you, Wang, World Footballer of the Year and European Ballon d’Or winner, are the perfect choice.”

※※※

Varo pointed to his arm, saying to McNeil: “I’ve never heard you so gushy, Sam. I got goosebumps just now. You sound like you’re coaxing a child...”

McNeil was in high spirits after Wang Lie promised to seriously consider: “In a way, Wang is like a child who needs coaxing. But I’m not just flattering him. I mean it, César. If Wang comes, we won’t strip Gotz of the captain’s armband immediately, but I’ll make Wang one of the captains. He has all the qualities of an excellent leader.”

Varo joked: “You’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“I’ve played with him. I know him.”

“Don’t say that—you only played one season with him, Sam.”

“One season is enough. You don’t know Wang. He’s consistent. One season is enough to see what he’s like. You don’t need ten seasons together. Do you think his recent media criticism started only six months ago? He’s never changed; only the standards changed. When he stood up for teammates on the pitch, he was praised for ‘leadership.’ Now it’s ‘mental imbalance,’ ha!”

McNeil’s tone became mocking, clearly defending Wang Lie.

“But he was never captain at Solford United,” Varo pointed out.

“That’s because Solford’s captain is always voted by players,” McNeil replied. “They didn’t want to give Wang their votes—he likes to boss around even without the armband. Imagine if he had it! Some things are hard without the captain’s authority. No one wants a paranoid person watching their every move.”

Varo realized: “No wonder Murphy, not a direct Solford product and not top-notch, was captain for years... He’s known as the ‘nice guy.’”

“The decline in Solford’s results and locker room chaos are related. Before Helden, several coaches couldn’t control the senior players. How could the team fight for victories and championships like before? Most only peak contract year to get a big deal, then coast...”

McNeil sighed: “Of course, I’m biased... When Solford did well, this was praised as a ‘democratic model,’ evidence of a harmonious locker room, even credited as their secret to the unprecedented ‘seven trophies.’ So the same thing is good or bad depending on whether you win or lose...”

He looked at his assistant: “Isn’t our team criticized as ‘mercenaries’ by the media? That’s not entirely wrong. Many players here could have better options but joined mid-lower table Tyne because our Middle Eastern owner is willing to spend big. Who says no to money?

“So our boss got a team with strong apparent quality but poor actual performance... We agree Tyne underperforms and has untapped potential. That’s why I need a victory-obsessed, obsessive competitor like Wang to infect the team with his unparalleled drive. Wang jokingly calls himself a ‘plague’ that everyone avoids. I like that. I want his competitive gene to spread like a plague.”

While McNeil spoke, Varo nodded frequently but raised one question: “How can you guarantee these ‘mercenaries’ won’t be like Solford’s players and resist Wang?”

McNeil snorted: “They’re not Arthur Eilorn or Roniel Nascimento. Many have never won a decent championship. What right do they have to be arrogant around Wang and not know their place?”

César Varo wisely kept quiet.

※※※

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