I heard that the other party isn’t actually some official, and the smile on George Allen’s face vanished instantly. He scowled and said coldly, “You guys are teammates?”

Yvonne Foster let go of Director Harris’s neck, and Director Harris could finally breathe.

As Director Harris gasped for air, clutching his throat, he heard Yvonne Foster say to George Allen, “Back when we were in the Dacheng youth team, we played together.”

Dacheng is the local professional football club, which is also why Director Harris, though not a local, has stayed here all this time—he played for Dacheng’s youth team for several years, so naturally he chose to remain in this city, where there are more opportunities than back home.

“Dacheng as well?” George Allen mused, frowning as he looked to the other side, where their opponents for this match, the Hongguang Football Team, were.

Of course Yvonne Foster understood what George Allen meant. A strange smile appeared on his face as he pointed his thumb back at Director Harris, who was still catching his breath. “George Allen, you might not know this, but Director Harris has a nickname!”

“What nickname?” George Allen sneered at Director Harris.

“‘Golden Right Foot’!”

“So impressive?” George Allen’s expression immediately grew serious.

But Yvonne Foster just laughed and asked, “George Allen, haven’t you seen Stephen Chow’s ‘Shaolin Soccer’?”

Before George Allen could react, someone behind him burst out laughing. “So this Director Harris is a cripple, huh!”

Director Harris held his breath, his face turning extremely ugly.

“That’s right! He’s just a cripple!” Yvonne Foster acted as if he hadn’t noticed Director Harris’s expression at all, slapping Director Harris’s shoulder hard while laughing exaggeratedly.

A group of people surrounded Director Harris, laughing so hard they nearly doubled over, while in the midst of their laughter, Director Harris hung his head, hands tightly clutching the hem of his jacket, embarrassed but not daring to talk back.

At that moment, a tall figure appeared beside him, draping an arm over his shoulder and leaning in. “Hey, Mr. Harris, are these your friends? Mind introducing us?”

Director Harris turned his head and saw Brian Clark’s grinning face, looking right at Yvonne Foster and his group.

“What interesting things are you guys talking about? Mind sharing?”

Yvonne Foster and the others’ laughter was abruptly cut off. Faced with this obvious outsider here to back up Director Harris, they grunted in displeasure. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mr. Harris’s teammate. My name is Brian Clark.” Brian Clark waved at them.

“You’re his teammate? How come I’ve never seen you… Wait, your name is Brian Clark?!” Yvonne Foster exclaimed, pointing at Brian Clark. “That Brian Clark?”

Brian Clark nodded with a smile. “That’s right, the very same Brian Clark.”

George Allen was also surprised. “Brian Clark?”

“Yeah, the genius Brian Clark who was released early by AC Milan.” Yvonne Foster realized, looking at Brian Clark in his Hongguang jersey, and sneered, “I saw people online saying Brian Clark was playing street football, and I didn’t believe it. Turns out it’s true. Tsk tsk, who would’ve thought the genius kid from back then would end up like this. Well, now I get why AC Milan didn’t want you.”

“Shut up!” Director Harris, who hadn’t said a word while being mocked himself, suddenly shouted, “Yvonne Foster, you don’t know shit! Stop talking nonsense!”

Yvonne Foster spread his hands and mocked, “What don’t I know? He’s just not good enough, that’s all. AC Milan didn’t want him. The domestic media keeps hyping up this so-called ‘once-in-a-generation genius’—maybe they can fool some dumb fans, but not us insiders…”

“You mother—” Director Harris was so angry he clenched his fists, but Brian Clark held him back.

Brian Clark, facing Yvonne Foster’s constant mockery and provocation, didn’t get angry. Instead, he held onto Director Harris with one hand, the other in his sweatpants pocket, and smiled as he said, “I don’t know if I’m any good, but beating you guys should be no problem.”

His tone was casual, as if winning was as easy and natural as eating or drinking.

Yvonne Foster, George Allen, and their group all changed color at once—they’d just been blatantly looked down on!

George Allen said in a low voice, “Don’t get cocky, kid!”

Brian Clark grinned and said, “Cocky or not, you’ll see soon enough when the match starts.”

George Allen took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Yvonne Foster pointed at Director Harris next to Brian Clark, gave a thumbs-up and mocked, “Cripple sure knows how to find a backer, huh? Got himself a ‘genius’ to rely on. Smart move! I’m impressed!”

With that, he turned and walked off with his companions to the other side of the field.

……

Watching their backs, Brian Clark asked the still-breathless Director Harris beside him, “Who are those guys?”

“…They’re your opponents for this match.”

“That runner-up team, huh? Are all five of them professionals?”

“I’m not sure, but one definitely is, and one definitely isn’t.” Director Harris stared hard at the five backs.

“Oh?” Brian Clark tilted his head.

“Yvonne Foster and I are the same—we both left before ever playing for the first team. So he doesn’t count as a professional.”

“Yvonne Foster? The guy with the yellow hair?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“By the way, why is he picking on you?”