This time, no one criticized Winkelmann. Instead, they began discussing how to donate, how to set up a trust fund, and how to carry out the club’s work. Emily Clark was also among those discussing. In their conversation, there was a faint sense of something called “hope.”

Brian Carter felt that none of this had anything to do with him. He wasn’t a Dons supporter, nor did he have spare money.

Emily Clark decided to take her leave. She walked up to Brian Carter again: “I still hope you’ll seriously consider it, Chu.”

“I thought you wouldn’t have any more unrealistic expectations of me after that.” Brian Carter was a bit surprised; he truly hadn’t expected Emily Clark to circle back and bring up the old topic again.

“Although you’re pretty ordinary, you’re right—it’s the world that’s ordinary, and we’re all just ordinary people. That has nothing to do with whether you play football or not.” Emily Clark smiled.

“Why me?” Brian Carter spread his hands at her.

“Because I happened to see you play, because I happened to think you played well, and because we just happen to need people.” Emily Clark gave three “becauses.” “There’s no harm in giving it a try. Are you worried you won’t be selected?”

Brian Carter shook his head. He hadn’t even thought about going, so what was there to worry about not being selected?

“I don’t like playing football, and I’m not as good as you say. I’m not interested in trying out for your team, I’m really sorry, Miss Emily Clark Stein.” Brian Carter refused flatly. He kept a straight face, thinking he’d made himself perfectly clear—was she really going to keep pushing? Did she really think being a pretty girl gave her more leeway? Sorry, I’m not buying it.

Seeing Brian Carter like this, Emily Clark couldn’t say anything more. She’d only invited him out of kindness, so why did it feel like she was begging him? “That’s a shame, but I hope this won’t affect our friendship.” She once again extended her hand to Brian Carter.

Brian Carter was a bit puzzled—when did he become this girl’s friend? Out of basic courtesy, he still reached out and shook hands with Emily Clark. Just like last time, her hand was soft, gentle, and warm.

After withdrawing her hand, Emily Clark took her leave. Before leaving, she promised Boss John that she’d come again in a few days, which made everyone happy. No one noticed that their bartender looked preoccupied.

※※※

Emily Clark left, but the discussion about the future of Wimbledon football continued.

Brian Carter found that he kept thinking about what Emily Clark had said, as if he were under a spell and couldn’t stop. He wasn’t considering whether to join that new team or not; it was just that the fact Emily Clark had come to find him kept replaying in his mind, lingering and impossible to shake. In this state of mind, he clearly couldn’t do his job well, and so he made a few mistakes.

This caught Boss John’s attention. He knew Brian Carter as a hardworking, diligent, and responsible young man who rarely made mistakes at work—making several in a row was unprecedented.

He noticed that after Emily Clark left, Brian Carter became absent-minded. With a quick glance, he figured out why. “Emily Clark really is a good girl,” he said to Brian Carter.

Brian Carter, preoccupied with his own thoughts, didn’t pay much attention to the boss’s heavily suggestive words. He just replied with a simple “Mm.”

“I’ve heard she has plenty of admirers, but she doesn’t fancy any of them.”

What does that have to do with me? Brian Carter finally snapped out of it, saying so in his heart.

Seeing that Brian Carter still showed no reaction, he simply asked directly, “What’s got you so distracted, Chu?”

Brian Carter hesitated for a moment, but decided to tell the truth. Boss John had always treated him well, so there was no need to lie to a good person.

“Emily Clark wants me to try out for the new Wimbledon team…”

“Huh?” Boss John was a bit surprised. “You can play football?”

“Yes… I had a few years of training back in China…”

Boss John didn’t care how many years of training he’d had in China; he pressed on, “Why didn’t you tell me? Our team’s always short of people—if you’d said you could play, I’d have brought you in…” He actually sounded a bit annoyed.

By “our team,” he meant the team that played in the Sunday League, an amateur league independent of the English league system, though teams in this league could apply to join the official system. Most of these teams were made up of friends from the pub or football buddies, and were called “pub teams.” In many old pubs in the UK, you can see rows of team photos and honors. On the wall of the Dons Pub, Brian Carter had seen a group photo of their team. Don’t be fooled by the boss’s size—every Sunday he went to play football at the community pitch, and at that time Brian Carter had to stay behind to look after the bar. But business was a bit slower on Sundays, since everyone went to play football.

“But you never asked me, boss…” Brian Carter said, looking aggrieved.

“Uh…” Boss John was a bit embarrassed too. What Brian Carter said was true—he’d never asked, so how would Brian Carter know the team was short-handed? “Go on, go on.”