“Emily, listen to me. Right now, we have no extra money at home, and we haven’t even prepared any fabric for spring clothes. If we keep sitting here doing nothing, we’ll run out of everything. I promise you, I’ll come back right after the match, isn’t that enough? You know, two or three guan of prize money will be enough to support us for a while. Maybe we can even use that money to start a small business. Isn’t that better than the two of us just sitting here sighing?”

Emily had to admit that her husband’s words were quite convincing. However, her past experiences told her she absolutely could not agree. She had just said the word “but” when she noticed the determined look in her husband’s eyes. In the end, she swallowed all the words she wanted to say, rummaged through the chests, and found a set of blue clothes and pants, complete with a headscarf and leg wraps.

“You… go, but don’t get hurt!” Emily personally helped Edward Clark change into the full outfit, not knowing whether she felt comforted or bitter inside. “Maybe those people will play rough, maybe someone will even bribe others to trip you up. You have to be careful!”

Edward Clark hadn’t expected that even in the Northern Song there would be dirty tricks and biased referees in football, and he couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated. Still, he felt a surge of fighting spirit. After all, he had learned a bit of ancient cuju, and had always been a main player on the school team from elementary through university. He figured he had some skills with his feet; the only thing to worry about was the rules.

The legendary story of the real Edward Clark’s rise was almost universally known in China. In fact, this guy, who rose from a mere street punk to become the Grand Marshal of the nation, was a classic example of a meteoric rise. To put it simply, he was an athlete who entertained the masses and then transformed into a politician who held their lives in his hands—a difference as vast as heaven and earth. It was ironic that, even though he had become Edward Clark, he still had to use the real Edward Clark’s signature skills to earn a living. Truly, it was fate.

Chapter 7: The Struggle of the Ball Clubs

Cuju in the Song Dynasty was not a match with two goals; usually, it used a single goal or sometimes no goal at all. This time, the match between Longqing Club and Bateng Club was a single-goal game. When Edward Clark arrived at the field, he saw a solitary goal standing in the center. The two goalposts were ten meters high and three or four meters wide, blocking most of the way like a door panel, but the net in the middle was only about a meter wide, with a hole several dozen centimeters across in it, called the “flirtatious eye.”

“Second Brother, you’re finally here!” The first to run over to greet him was Charles Baker, who pointed at a few people standing by the field and said proudly, “Everyone’s been waiting for you for ages. Without you as our striker, it won’t be easy to win the prize money! That Bateng Club is just newly formed, yet they dare to challenge us. Today, we have to show them what we’re made of!”

Edward Clark looked at the small goal hole, and after a moment of joy, he was actually startled. Although he had seen this kind of door-panel goal before, he hadn’t trained for a long time, so he didn’t know how well he’d do. What’s more, from what others said, the real Edward Clark used to be the top player here. If he made a fool of himself today, wouldn’t that arouse suspicion for no reason?

With a nervous heart, he finally met his teammates. They were all young men in their twenties or thirties, each dressed in blue robes, neat and tidy, and their gazes toward him were full of respect. Seeing this, he had no choice but to brace himself and exchange a few words, then used the excuse that he hadn’t touched a ball in days to grab a cuju ball and run off to practice alone.

Although that cuju ball was very different from a modern one, after just a few juggles, Edward Clark immediately found his feel for the ball and was overjoyed. The ball his master had him practice with back then was hand-stitched and quite rough. In contrast, this ancient cuju ball was sewn from dozens of pieces of cowhide and felt solid under his feet. As he got into the groove, and with the fact that he was now in the Northern Song, he seemed to return to his childhood days of practicing. He instantly threw his master’s old warnings to the back of his mind, using his shoulders, back, and feet, showing off all his skills and having a great time.

“Well done! As expected of Andrew Clark, your skills are truly extraordinary!”

Hearing this sudden praise, Edward Clark immediately stopped the ball and turned around, only to see a middle-aged man in white, looking at him with a half-smile. The man was slightly plump, with a kindly look in his eyes, but a hooked nose gave him a hint of menace, spoiling an otherwise good face. Knowing that, as an impostor, he wasn’t familiar with the people of Longqing Club, Edward Clark deliberately kept silent, just sizing the man up.

“Erlang, are you confident about this match?”

“It’s hard to say what will happen on the field, but all I can do is give it my best.” Edward Clark didn’t know this man at all, and knew that the more he said, the more mistakes he might make, so he kept his answer brief.

The middle-aged man was taken aback. He hadn’t expected the once arrogant Edward Clark to be so modest, and for a moment didn’t know what to say. After a while, he gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t expect that after just a month, Erlang has suddenly become humble. To tell you the truth, although Bateng Club isn’t well-known, its members were all hired by that Henry Parker from Baxian Tavern for a hefty price—they’re not to be underestimated. This match concerns the future of my Qingfeng Restaurant. If we lose, the shop at the north end of Quyuan Street will go to him. As long as we win, besides the agreed thirty guan prize, I, Benjamin Harris, will give you another ten guan as a thank-you. How about it?”