Chapter Fifteen: A Unique Welcome Ceremony

“Hello, Tyne fans, greetings to all of you. I’m truly honored to join this proud team. However, since the season is underway, and to avoid disrupting the team's preparations, I’ve requested the club to forgo any formal ceremonies and instead send my regards to the dear Tyne fans through this video...”

Tang Lin stood inside the supermarket, in front of the fruit and vegetable display, but he lifted his eyes to a large screen in the distance.

The screen was playing a video of Wang Lie greeting the Tyne fans—a video officially announcing Wang Lie’s signing by the Tyne club.

An official announcement, just like that?

Tang Lin wasn’t a football fan, but he had heard about the difficulties Wang Lie was currently facing.

Seeing this video of Wang Lie, he couldn’t help but believe the rumors swirling online.

He truly was at a dead end...

Though indifferent to football, Tang Lin felt a strange emotion well up from deep within as he watched the face in the video, forcing a smile toward the Tyne fans. The mix of feelings was hard to describe.

He looked down again, selecting fruits and vegetables from the display before him.

Meanwhile, beneath the large screen in the supermarket, a crowd of locals had gathered.

Some even pulled out their phones to snap photos and record the video.

Tang Lin vaguely heard gasps and murmurs.

It seemed not all Tyne fans welcomed Wang Lie’s arrival...

※※※

Tang Lin opened his apartment door holding the groceries he had bought and saw his landlord, the elderly Mr. John Berg, waving a newspaper and calling out:

“Tang, come look! Your compatriot is coming to Newcastle!”

“Wang Lie?” Tang Lin asked while changing his shoes.

“Yes, that’s him!” Berg was excited. “Now you can come with me to watch Tyne’s matches, right?”

Tang Lin finished putting on his shoes, went to put the groceries away in the kitchen, then came back and said, “Mr. Berg, I’ve told you before—I’m not uninterested in Tyne specifically; I just don’t care about football itself.”

The white-haired John Berg looked a bit disappointed: “Well... I thought you’d be interested in ‘China Wang.’ See, before I even said who was coming, you already knew.”

Tang Lin shook his head with a smile. “Wang Lie’s influence crosses boundaries. Even if I don’t watch football, I’d definitely know him. Even if I weren’t Chinese, I’d have heard his name. But that doesn’t mean I’m interested enough to watch his games.”

“That’s a shame...” Berg muttered, slowly rising from the sofa and heading to the door.

“Are you going out?” Tang Lin asked curiously.

Berg waved his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m off to the Miners’ Bar.”

“You’re going drinking again? Didn’t the doctor tell you to cut back?”

Berg spread his hands in mock helplessness. “What can I do? This is such big news. I have to chat with the old mates at the bar. Having a drink while chatting is normal, right?”

Tang Lin shook his head helplessly. “Then just have one drink.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back before dinner.”

As they spoke, Berg moved toward the door. He took down a wool hat embroidered with the Tyne emblem from the coat rack, then a scarf with the same emblem, and finally a down jacket bearing a large Tyne crest on the back.

Fully outfitted, he waved goodbye. “Thanks for everything, Tang.”

Tang Lin smiled and shook his head. “Don’t mention it, Mr. Berg. You waived my rent and saved me a lot of money. We call that ‘mutual help.’”

“Ha! Yes, mutual help! Haha!”

John Berg laughed heartily as he opened the door and stepped out, clearly in high spirits.

Tang Lin didn’t understand football and wasn’t fond of it, but he had heard of Wang Lie’s renown. So he guessed this must be good news for Berg, a seasoned and passionate Tyne fan.

Yet he still harbored doubts, though he didn’t voice them to avoid spoiling Berg’s mood:

If he remembered correctly, Wang Lie must be quite old by now. Tang Lin recalled hearing the name when he was a child, and now at twenty-three, Wang was still playing?

Tang Lin, though not a football fan, understood basic physics. Could someone of that age really still play? What could a veteran bring to a struggling team like Tyne?

He knew the Tyne club had a wealthy owner from the Middle East who spared no expense.

Was Wang Lie here just to enjoy his twilight years?

To cash in one last time and retire without worries... but hadn’t Wang Lie already earned enough? His annual income must be more than enough to support several lifetimes of ordinary people.

Tang Lin just couldn’t figure it out. Lacking enough information and interest, he shook his head and decided to stop pondering, returning to his room to study.

As a graduate student at Newcastle University, he faced considerable academic pressure.

He was deeply grateful to Mr. Berg for waiving his rent, which not only eased his financial burden but also saved him the time he would have spent working, allowing more focus on his studies.

He still found it incredible that a chance encounter at a bus stop—getting on the wrong bus—led to meeting a “benefactor” in his study abroad journey.

He had simply noticed the old man struggling with many bags and, driven by the simple Chinese value of respecting the elderly and caring for the young, offered help. That’s how their bond began.

He was invited to Berg’s home—the very building where he now lived.

They talked a lot and shared a meal—Tang Lin hadn’t planned to eat, but when he saw Berg rummaging through the fridge for salad leaves, he realized the old man’s self-care was lacking and offered to cook some Chinese dishes.

After that dinner, Berg formally proposed that Tang Lin move in rent-free.

The offer was tempting, but Tang Lin didn’t want to take advantage, so he volunteered to share housework and cook meals.

Berg gladly accepted; living alone, he truly needed company.

Despite their vast age difference, the two got along very well.

Only one thing: Berg always hoped Tang Lin would grow to like football and often invited him to Tyne matches.

At first, Tang Lin found this troublesome, but seeing Berg’s disappointed expression when he declined made him feel guilty.

Later, they both became accustomed to the ritual: Berg would casually invite, Tang Lin would politely decline, an unspoken understanding forming with no hard feelings.

Tang Lin opened his book, set his alarm, put on his headphones, and began studying.

※※※

John Berg reached the Miners’ Bar and had just cracked open the heavy door when a heated voice burst through the gap:

“…We already have enough troubles! Why bring in a ‘super troublemaker’? A nearly thirty-eight-year-old old man, volatile at that—we all avoid him, yet we sign him on! Will Foster must have a screw loose!”

Berg pushed the door fully open and entered the bar. He immediately spotted a figure with one foot on a chair, holding a beer, waving an arm wildly.

His beard gleamed—whether from leftover beer or spit was unclear.

Berg shouted, “I don’t know if Will Foster’s brain is full of water, but I’m sure yours is, Robbie Dixy! Water’s even dripping onto your beard!”

His words drew the attention of everyone in the bar, including Dixy, who turned to look.

Dixy laughed loudly, “I thought you wouldn’t come today, old mate! Do you really believe a thirty-eight-year-old Wang can bring us anything positive?”

“He’s thirty-seven, not yet thirty-eight,” Berg corrected.

Dixy argued, “Only a few days away…”

“February seventeenth is his birthday. Twenty-seven days to go—almost a month.”

Dixy waved off the numbers. “Whatever. Even if he’s thirty-seven, what positive can a thirty-seven-year-old Wang bring to the team?”

Unexpectedly, Berg shook his head. “I don’t know, but I trust McNeil. He’s done well since taking over Tyne, and Wang was his request to the club.”

“I admit McNeil’s done well, but he’s not always right. He was Wang’s teammate at Sofor United, so I think his impression of Wang is stuck in the past—if that Wang came to Tyne, I’d kneel and kiss his boots. But now… McNeil’s memory clearly needs updating!”

The two began debating heatedly.

Others around them watched the spectacle, some chuckling, betting on who would give in first.

Such debates between Berg and Dixy at the Miners’ Bar were commonplace.

They had been old friends for years, former miners together, but often clashed in opinions.

When neither could convince the other, they’d settle it by making a bet witnessed by everyone: the loser would buy drinks for all.

“…Wang’s already thirty-eight. His half-season at Sofor United was plain to see. I don’t believe McNeil’s coaching staff is unaware. Why buy him? As a mascot?”

Berg retorted, “What performance? Wang barely got any decent chances at Sofor United. What could he show? Yet even so, he scored—against us at Tyne’s goal. Forgotten that, Robbie? Without that goal, we should have walked away from Redstone Stadium undefeated this season’s first half.”

Some onlookers agreed, “Right, we should’ve at least gotten a point!”

“John’s right—Wang just lacked a coach who trusted him and more playing time…”

Robbie Dixy disagreed: “That last-minute goal conceded was our own fault. Those mercenaries didn’t want to play in the last five minutes; they just wanted to get to the locker room. McNeil took over mid-season because we played like garbage!”

“You mention ‘mercenaries,’ Robbie. I think McNeil chose Wang to use his fierce competitiveness to change the team’s mercenary spirit. Had Wang been on our side that day, I don’t believe they’d slack off in the final moments. You know Wang is known for his fighting spirit, and that’s exactly what we lack!”

Berg clearly admired Wang Lie’s competitiveness.

Dixy didn’t deny it but raised a reasonable doubt:

“No one denies Wang’s spirit, John. But do you really think he alone can change the team’s style? If he were thirty-one, I’d believe it. But now, he can’t even show convincing performance himself. How can he change others? Just by talking big? John, you don’t really think some of our players will change just by hearing Wang’s speeches, do you?”

Berg didn’t respond immediately, falling silent for a moment.

During his silence, someone in the bar shouted, “Exactly! Robbie’s right! I don’t believe Sonny Dean can change anything! We once had high hopes for him, but now he’s finished! Might as well see him drunk and passed out here someday!”

“Don’t be silly. Sonny Dean would never come to our dump of a bar. He only goes to high-class clubs! London’s nightlife awaits him…”

“I heard that, Ryan. You called my bar a ‘dump’!” The voice came from Theo Collins, the bar owner behind the counter, watching the commotion.

“Oh, no offense, Mr. Collins... I mean, we don’t have those hot girls here!”

The teasing lightened the tense atmosphere.

Berg said to Dixy, “You’re right, Robbie. Big words won’t change those mercenaries. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be like this now. But I still believe Wang can bring change. I just can’t prove it yet. Let’s wait and see. It’s only half a season. When it ends, we’ll know.”

Robbie Dixy agreed, “Right. Football isn’t solved by words. It all comes down to the pitch. My expectations aren’t high; if we just avoid relegation, I’ll say Wang’s useful.”

Someone teased, “Robbie, that’s too low a bar! McNeil’s doing well now. Even without Wang, we should avoid relegation!”

Dixy raised the stakes, “Alright, top ten then. Top ten shows Wang’s worth, right?”

His gaze was on Berg, not the heckler.

Berg found that standard reasonable.

If just avoiding relegation, that could be achieved with McNeil’s coaching.

But top ten was no easy feat.

He was curious how much impact Wang Lie would really have.

He nodded in agreement, “No objections.”

Dixy, eager not to lose, raised both arms and declared:

“Listen up! If we don’t finish top ten by season’s end, John buys us all a drink! If we do, I’ll buy!”

Cheers erupted—whistles, applause, banging on tables—Miners’ Bar was lively.

“Praise Robbie and John!”

“The best duo!”

“No backing out!”

“Woohoo!”

“This is what we wanted! Bets!”

Amid the noise, owner Theo Collins turned and chalked on a blackboard:

“Top 10. John YES, Robbie NO. Everyone a drink.”

Above it were records of other bets: whether the team would avoid relegation, if Sonny Dean would score ten goals this season, when Brazilian prodigy Vitini might leave, how long McNeil would last...

The wagers covered all topics, like a bookmaker’s board, but without money—only drinks as stakes.

After Collins wrote down their bet, Dixy confidently told Berg, “I’m sure I’ll win, John. Even ‘China Wang’ can’t change those mercenaries!”

Next to the blackboard hung a large TV, still playing the official Tyne announcement video of Wang Lie’s signing.

In it, Wang Lie, wearing Tyne’s blue home jersey, pointed to the club crest over his heart and said:

“…I can’t wait to meet you all on the field. I believe that day won’t be long. I will give my all to bring victory to Tyne. I promise you that...”

※※※

“Official! Official! ‘China Wang’ is coming here! This is great news!” Clayton Vitini shouted excitedly as he entered the locker room.

Sonny Dean immediately doused the mood:

“What good news? Wang’s thirty-eight. What can he do? He didn’t prove himself at Sofor United. Does coming to Tyne suddenly make him better? Dream on! He’s no savior and can’t help us avoid relegation.”

Dean’s view was not alone. Many nodded in agreement.

Even team captain Elliott Gotts said, “We can’t expect Wang’s arrival to change the team. Football’s a team sport. It depends on our own efforts…”

The captain’s words were objective, but Dean’s were harsher:

“I think Wang’s just a fire-fighting signing by our coach. Because Peter’s injured, they brought in Wang. Wang had no place at Sofor United and wasn’t willing to leave the Premier League quietly, so…”

He spread his hands, unwilling to say more, but everyone understood.

Basically, Wang was unwanted by other Premier League teams, yet Tyne treated him like a treasure...

Vitini frowned, annoyed, and retorted bluntly: “Don’t forget round eleven, when we lost away to Sofor United! A nearly thirty-eight-year-old old guy came on as a substitute and scored the winner. Where were you then? Even if we’d scored a goal…”

Dean, cornered, glared at Vitini with sarcasm: “Weren’t you on the pitch? What right do you have to criticize me? Oh, maybe nine rounds ago is too long ago for you. You probably forgot how we lost last match. All you do is dribble like a ‘showman’…”

“Showman” was a derogatory nickname given to Vitini by rival fans and some media, mocking his flashy dribbling and self-indulgent style, which sometimes annoyed opponents and fans.

Vitini hated the nickname and had once been sent off after a confrontation triggered by the insult.

Now, hearing Dean mock him with it, he lost his temper, slammed his sports bag on the ground, and charged at Dean.

Just before reaching Dean, teammates grabbed Vitini: “Hey! Calm down, Vitini! Calm down!”

Dean, emboldened, taunted Vitini, who was held back: “Come on, kid! Come at me!”

Dean leaned in.

Team captain Gotts pushed Dean aside: “What are you doing?! Dean! How can you insult your own teammate?!”

Then he shouted to those holding Vitini: “Hold him tight!”

Vitini, restrained by one teammate around the waist and another blocking in front, reared up like a wild horse but couldn’t advance.

He pointed at Dean, roaring, “Who are you to criticize me? The season’s not over. You’ve already signed with Kensington. You’re so eager to leave the team that trained you?!”

Dean’s contract expired June 30, and neither he nor Tyne planned to renew. Rules allowed him to contact other clubs in the final six months, even sign pre-contracts. Once his contract ended, he’d automatically join the new club.

Though legal, announcing a new club while fighting relegation upset the locker room and fans.

After media revealed Dean’s signing with London powerhouse Kensington, protests and criticism surged.

Angry Tyne fans even petitioned coach McNeil to bench Dean for the rest of the season.

Dean felt no shame. He continued mocking Vitini with a bounce: “Ha! Don’t say your dad’s not finding you a new club! Do you want to stay here? What right do you have to criticize me?!”

Last summer, rumors of Vitini’s transfer spread, with many clubs interested, but Tyne refused to sell.

Dean sneered, “When does your contract expire? So loyal, why not renew? You could retire here! Be a loyal servant, ha!”

Vitini nearly lost his mind under the insults; teammates had to restrain him more tightly.

“I’ll give my all for this team! Whenever I play, I’m the hardest worker! I earn every penny the club pays me! And you? You drunkard! Highest salary but what do you contribute? Just gossip and negative news!”

“Enough! Enough! Shut up, both of you!” Gotts shouted hoarsely.

But his roar changed nothing; both red-faced and furious, neither gave the captain face.

Despite efforts, the fighting didn’t escalate to blows, but verbal volleys continued fiercely.

The locker room was chaos.

Center-back Hugo Gonduz watched the chaos with a mocking tone: “Well, well. Wang hasn’t even arrived yet, and the locker room’s a mess already, tsk tsk…”

He turned to his defensive partner Matej Katich: “You faced Wang in La Liga, right?”

Katich nodded: “Yeah, but only three seasons.”

“Did you ever fight like this?”

“No physical fights, but we insulted each other,” Katich admitted. “You know, I had a temper when I was young, and Wang’s no pushover, so…”

Right-back Jacob Barnabas grimaced: “That’s trouble... when Wang meets you again…”

Katich shook his head: “Not likely. We were just on opposing sides—he with Barcelona Athletic, me with Madrid FC. You know how fierce that rivalry is. Besides, years have passed…”

Barnabas said, “But I heard Wang’s very grudging. Are you sure he hasn’t held a grudge all this time?”

Katich hesitated, clearly unsure if Wang might still hold a grudge.

Gonduz sighed, looking at the ongoing chaos: “God help us. Hope we get through this season smoothly and safely...”

In a corner, some players ignored the fierce quarrel.

Attacking midfielder Mathis Van Ginkel quietly asked striker Peter Olivi, “If Wang asked for the number nine jersey, would you give it to him?”

Olivi shook his head. “How could I? Once numbers are registered for the season, they can’t be changed mid-season. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

Van Ginkel pressed, “What about next season?”

Olivi paused, then said, “If he asked, I’d give it to him.”

He smiled bitterly. “How could I refuse a top star?”

Van Ginkel scoffed, “He’s not a star anymore…”

“I don’t want unnecessary controversy. It’s just a number.”

Van Ginkel snorted, “I don’t like that idea, even if he’s China Wang!”

Elsewhere, some players whispered about Wang’s farewell letter to Sofor United fans.

“They officially lost it,” one said. “No wonder the media say Wang always leaves on bad terms with former clubs.”

“Ha! I loved it. I don’t like Sofor United—they’re arrogant and look down on everyone. It’s rare to see them break down!”

“Think Wang will leave Tyne on bad terms too?”

...

In the center of the locker room, Dean and Vitini, restrained by teammates, spat insults and revealed each other’s weaknesses.

Captain Gotts shouted futilely, powerless to stop the brawl.

Some players sat numb, watching or whispering, some even egging on the fight.

Outsiders called them mercenaries who only cared about money, not a team.

Looking at the chaos, that seemed true.

Just as the situation became uncontrollable, the locker room door suddenly swung open.

A figure with a backpack appeared in the doorway.

All eyes in the room—Dean, Vitini, Gotts, and everyone else—turned toward the unexpected visitor.

Wang Lie first looked surprised at the scene, then his lips curled into a slight smile:

“Quite lively. Is this your unique way of welcoming me?”

※※※

P.S. This book is scheduled for release on September 1st. I know everyone has been eagerly following the updates, but unfortunately, I can’t post more right now. There will be a big surge of chapters around the release date, so please bear with me a little longer!