As Spain’s most famous literary giant, Cervantes created the universally known Don Quixote. Today, his statue stands tall in the center of the square, as if overlooking the statues of Don Quixote and Sancho.

This square itself was built to commemorate Cervantes, constructed in 1930, so it’s been around for quite some time. It’s only because of Cervantes that this square has become a favorite spot for tourists; many visitors love to take photos next to the Don Quixote statue as proof of their visit.

However, William Clark had no interest in admiring the statues of Cervantes or Don Quixote.

Even though he was squatting right in front of the statues of Cervantes and Don Quixote.

On Sundays, Plaza de España is packed with people. All the benches for resting are full, and even the edge of the fountain is crowded, so he could only squat in front of these two sets of statues.

But even so, he couldn’t quietly enjoy his lunch.

Because of where he was sitting, people kept coming over to take photos with the statues.

Groups of tourists from all over the world loved nothing more than to rush to the famous statues of Don Quixote and Sancho to take pictures, to prove they had been to Plaza de España, to Madrid, to Spain.

And William Clark just happened to be occupying their photo spot.

People kept coming up to ask him to move, to shift a little.

So William Clark kept moving, shifting from left to right, from right to left.

In the end, he got annoyed. When yet another group of tourists came up wanting to take a photo, he suddenly stood up from the ground, startling them.

Then, without saying a word, he patted the dust off his pants and walked around to the back of the statue. Although there were still plenty of people resting there, at least no one would come to the back of the statue to take photos—after all, who would want a donkey’s rear end in their picture...

Squatting down again behind the statue, just like he would on the sidelines of a football field deep in thought, he stared absentmindedly at the surging crowd before him, his gaze unfocused.

In his hand was a half-eaten whole wheat breadstick, about half a meter long and very hard. This is one of the staple foods of Spaniards, and it’s tough to chew. Chinese people aren’t used to this texture. William Clark wasn’t used to it either, but he had no choice—this was all he could eat now.

He would space out for a while, then take another bite of bread, chewing hard, his expression twisted. Describing it as “gnashing his teeth” was no exaggeration. It was as if he wasn’t biting bread, but the body of some despicable person...

After being rejected by Atlético Madrid, he had spent two months traveling almost all over Spain—not for sightseeing, but to look for a job.

But now, the 1999-2000 new season had already started, and he still hadn’t found a suitable job.

There were reasons on all sides. Some were club issues, some were his own.

Either the other side didn’t think much of him; or he thought their salary offer was too low, as if they were tossing scraps to a beggar; or the job didn’t match his expectations; or sometimes the club wouldn’t even give him a chance to meet...

In short, after more than two months, he had traveled all over Spain, spent the last of his salary from Real Madrid, and was still unemployed.

To look for work, he had given up his rented apartment in Madrid.

And now, aside from the bread in his hand, he had only 231 pesetas left, not a cent more.

At this time, the exchange rate was one US dollar to 180 pesetas. William Clark didn’t even have two dollars left on him.

In 1999, Spain had already experienced four consecutive years of inflation, and prices were soaring. There wasn’t much you could do with 200 pesetas.

Luckily, the hotel room was prepaid, or he wouldn’t even be able to afford a place to stay—not even the cheapest chain hotel.

But the room fee he paid only covered him until tomorrow. If he couldn’t find a job by then, he’d probably have to sleep on the street like a homeless person.

In his previous life, no matter how badly William Clark had it, he’d never been this down and out.

Was he really going to have to go through everything his older brother had experienced all over again? Did that mean he’d have to start digging through trash cans for food next?

He had thought about using his knowledge, thirteen years ahead of this world, to make some quick money.

But he soon admitted defeat.

In his previous life, as a dedicated and seasoned football otaku, he wasn’t interested in anything except football.

He didn’t remember any winning lottery numbers. He had heard of some hot stocks, like Google and Yahoo, but he had no startup capital. Even betting on football... There was a Copa América in the summer of 1999, but gambling isn’t that simple. Even if he knew the match results, what William Clark could earn would be limited. Even if he put in all his money, it wouldn’t make much of a splash. Unless he could remember the score of every match—but who would remember the details of a tournament as obscure as the Copa América? William Clark wasn’t a die-hard fan of South American football. Without being able to use Baidu, how could he remember so clearly?