698 Accidentally Caught a Cold

The next day, Greenwood was surprised to see Chen Jian run up to him with a ball at his feet at North Wilford.

"Chen, what are you doing?"

"I'm practicing my first touch, Manager Greenwood."

Chen Jian kicked the ball upwards using his heel and began to juggle it with his feet as he stopped to talk with Greenwood.

Greenwood smiled at the sight of Chen Jian practicing.

"Still, you didn't need to practice while you made your way here, right?"

Chen Jian shook his head. "I can't think of anything else I can do besides this. I don't have much time left, Manager Greenwood. I barely have five months left. I must…" he paused for a moment. "The training time is limited. So I am making use of my time on the way here and the way home to practice my first touch."

Greenwood looked at the boy from China. In truth, he did not understand why Twain had gotten so angry at Chen Jian yesterday. However, it was not a question that he needed answers for. The incident only made him increasingly interested in Chen Jian.

"All right. You might have added extra practice items for yourself, but don't expect your training regime to become lighter as a result."

Chen Jian nodded. "That'd be for the best, Manager Greenwood." He wanted to bid farewell to Greenwood as he finished his words but was stopped.

"Chen, tell me. What are your aspirations? Why did you come here to go through a year of practice?"

"To become a professional footballer," Chen Jian replied without hesitation.

"Where do you want to play?"

Chen Jian hesitated this time round. "If… I can play in Britain or Europe, that'd be ideal, but even if I can't, I'd still like to be able to play in other countries."

"What about your home country?"

Chen Jian froze. He did not know how to answer the question. He was Chinese and was undoubtedly patriotic. Nonetheless, he was well aware of the state of football in China and the standard of play in their so-called "professional leagues," namely the Chinese Super League and the China League One. In the end, he responded with apparent conviction.

"I will not return to China to play professional football."

Greenwood nodded his head to signal that he understood. He knew a little about the standard of football in China due to the presence of Dunn, Sun Jihai and Tony Twain on the team. The environment in China was certainly not ideal for someone who desired to play professional football. Greenwood patted Chen Jian on the shoulder.

"Continue working hard. You still have five more months."

Chen Jian was working hard to push down the wall that was in his way.

※※※

After he had given Chen Jian a dressing-down in the rain, Twain woke up to a headache the following morning. However, he did not pay much attention to it. He ate his breakfast and rested for a bit before heading out to Wilford to work.

Twain had only stood by the side of the training grounds for a short while when he felt like he could not hold on any longer. He did not sneeze, did not have a runny nose, and was not coughing either. All he had was a headache and it felt as though something wanted to rush out from his temple. It felt swollen and painful and it affected his thought process. He felt debilitated. The muscles on his back were sore, and he felt chilly.

He turned around, walked to the back and leaned against a pillar that propped up the sunshade, wanting to rest for a bit.

Kerslake had a whistle to his mouth as he directed the players' training on the pitch, while Dunn was making preparations for the next training item off the pitch.

Dunn realized that Twain was not standing at the spot where he'd last seen him. Finding it odd, he turned his head and looked behind.

He saw Twain leaning weakly against the pillar with his head shaking left and right gently.

Dunn tossed aside everything aside and scurried over to Twain's side.

"What's wrong?"

Twain saw that it was Dunn and continued to shake his head. "My head just hurts a little."

"Go and see the doctor."

"It's a waste of time." Twain continued to shake his head.

"Then I"ll get Fleming to check on you."

"He's a physiotherapist, not a doctor who can treat everything." Twain found the suggestion to be ridiculous.

Dunn ignored his remark. He turned around and walked towards Fleming who was examining Beckham's ankle.

"Gary, Tony's not feeling too good. Can you take a look at him?"

Both Fleming and Beckham raised their heads in unison and looked into the distance at Twain. They saw Twain shaking his head with all his might.

Fleming pressed hard on Beckham's left ankle. Beckham gasped and grimaced in pain.

"Apply ice over it after you are done with your training. This part here needs rest. Don't treat it too roughly, David."

"What's wrong?" Fleming asked Twain.

"Headache."

Fleming reached his hand out and felt Twain's forehead.

Twain drew back at his cold touch and the back of his head collided against the pillar. He winced in pain from the impact.

"Your hand is really cold."

Fleming ignored his comment. He continued to press his hand against Twain's forehead.

"What other symptoms do you have besides the headache?" he asked.

Twain thought about it for a moment.

"Muscle pain. Feeling weak all over. And I feel a little chilly…"

"You have caught a cold, you idiot," Fleming said shaking his head. "I heard you tossed aside your umbrella yesterday, scolded a Chinese boy for several minutes in the rain and got drenched from head to toe. Did you take a bath after going home?"

Twain shook his head. "I had bathed the night before…"

"Poor bachelor," muttered Fleming. "Go back home and rest. Take some medicine for your fever. If that doesn't work you'll have to go get an injection at the hospital."

"Don't make things sound so serious. I don't need a hospital."

Twain did not want to leave. There were lots of things going on with the team right now. How could he leave?

"If you don't leave, I can't guarantee that you won't spread your cold to others here." Fleming knew what was on Twain's mind, so he brought up the one reason that would force Twain into compliance.

Twain watched as both Dunn and Fleming started to back away from him and threw up both his hands in concession.

"All right, all right. I'm going back. I'll leave things here to you, Dunn. Help me tell Kerslake and the rest. I won't be going over there, or Gary's going to call me a contagion…"

Fleming was skilled at chasing Twain away. "Hurry up and go. The earlier you leave, the safer we'll feel!"

Twain glared at him, then turned around and walked off the premises.

Everyone on the pitch had already taken notice of what was happening by the sidelines. They watched Fleming and Dunn both walked towards Twain, and they were quite surprised to see Twain turn to leave.

Dunn walked over and whispered a few words into Kerslake's ear. The assistant manager smiled, then clapped his hands and announced the news to the players.

"There's nothing for you to see. Your boss got drenched in the rain yesterday and is suffering from a headache and a fever today. To prevent him from spreading his cold to us, Fleming has already chased him back home."

One of the players laughed softly.

"Don't laugh. The temperature has been dropping very quickly recently, and the rain can make people feel as though their bodies have gone moldy. So all of you have to be extra careful these few days. Make sure to take a hot bath every day after training and change into a set of clean clothes daily. I don't want to see our results go bad due to these tiny cold viruses! All right, get back to practice, don't let your bodies cool down!"

※※※

Twain returned home, took a bunch of cold and fever medicine, added two layers of blankets to his bed, and took a hot bath. Then he wrapped himself up in three layers of blankets, laid on the bed and left everything else to fate.

His body kept on shivering as he tried to rest. His cold was worse than he'd thought.

All I did was to get drenched in a bit of rain…do I really deserve this?

He felt like he was down on his luck. When have I ever taken medicine for my colds, and when have I ever felt this terrible? When have I not gotten better just by toughing it out? Looks like this body of mine is getting old with every day, every minute and every second of my life.

Others who transmigrate get to be reborn, but I get ten years of life taken away from me instead. Twain thought about this and felt upset, but there was no point in getting angry over it. What he had gained so far was unimaginable fame, honor and wealth, and he even had a chance at a relationship...

He needed to lose ten years of his life in exchange for all the things he had gained. After all, how could he wish to have his dreams come true but give nothing in return to this world?

His biggest worry right now was whether he would be fit to direct the team in the EFL Cup's game a day later. Their opponent for that match was Arsenal.

He found himself unable to lay in bed and rest in peace the moment he thought about the situation that the team was facing currently.

They had just narrowly won against the weak Stoke City by 1:0 in the last league game. The players' conditions were still unstable. The team may be ranked third in the league currently, but the gap in points between them and the first and second-ranked teams was slowly widening.

Chelsea and Liverpool had both racked up 29 points. Arsenal had won their last match and had 23 points. They were very close behind Nottingham Forest who had 24 points. Manchester United might have lost to Arsenal and ranked fifth in the league with 21 points, but they were one game behind the other teams at the top of the league.

He could not let the two teams ahead of him widen the gap too much before the winter transfer window commenced, and he also could not allow Arsenal and Manchester United the opportunity to overtake them.

He would have to see if there were any free agents they could obtain without paying a cent and if there were any cheap players that they could buy in January to strengthen the team and help them get through the winter.

His painfully swollen brain kept on mulling over all sorts of problems.

The medicinal effects started to kick in after a while, which made Twain feel drowsy, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

※※※

Twain managed to triumph over his cold virus before the EFL Cup game. His body still felt a little lethargic, and he would cough intermittently when he spoke with too much force, but other than that he was fine, which is why he did not care about his persisting symptoms.

Based on his past experiences, many of his cold symptoms lasted for quite a while before he was able to make a complete recovery. He was going to stop taking medicine and let his body recuperate slowly by itself.

He was busy daily. If not for the fact that his symptoms were so glaring this time round, he would not have remembered to take his medicine on time.

Nottingham Forest, who sent out a team of players from the reserve and the youth team, lost 1:3 to Arsenal at the Emirates Stadium. Arsenal also played a team comprising of their youth players.

It was the third consecutive year that Nottingham Forest failed to make it past the third round of the EFL Cup.

The final score for the match demonstrated the difference in abilities between the youth players for both teams.

Arsenal's youth players looked monstrous and dazzling. Carlos Vela scored two goals by himself, and Jack Wilshere slotted another one in before full-time, thoroughly securing a victory for Arsenal with his goal.

The only goal for Nottingham Forest came from Şahin, and his goal helped to rescue Forest from total humiliation as the away team.

He felt that the time was right for Şahin to play on the first team matches. The team lacked players currently, and Şahin's arrival would help to lessen the burden on van der Vaart. The Dutchman was certainly trusted and valued on the team, but the pressure placed on him had also multiplied as a result.

Van der Vaart did not have players who could replace him. Even George Wood had substitutes. Twain could not keep making Ribéry run down the middle to share the burden that was placed on van der Vaart.

Twain was full of praise for Wenger's young geniuses when he shook hands with Wenger after the match. He could not conceal his urge to salivate at the talent that was displayed by Arsenal's youth players.

Wenger pretended not to notice Twain's urges.

"No one would have believed half a year ago that he would be able to perform as he had just now. Tony, you are great at turning junk into gold."

Twain forced a smile. "I was forced to do that."

Why would he only rely on Şahin if Forest had a youth system that was as developed as Arsenal's? Or had come close to how Arsenal had produced numerous talented youths ceaselessly over the years?

Wenger spent ten years getting Arsenal to where they were today. Twain had only spent six. He still had a long way to go as a manager.

"Hey, Professor. Is Wilshere available for loan?"

Twain had set his eyes on Arsenal's talented youth players. Since the club did not have money to purchase players, then it should be acceptable for him to get some of these young players on loan to help the team through this difficult time.

Wenger shook his head. "He's a part of my first team's plans, Tony."

Twain muttered the word scrooge in his heart. How was Wilshere a part of his first team's plans? All Wenger planned to do was let Wilshere play a few games in the EFL Cup, and then let him play during "garbage time" in the league games.

At the end of the day, Wenger just did not want to let a talented player go out on loan to a rival's team. He did not want to bolster the strength of his enemies.

Twain decided to stop talking about a potential loan.

"May you progress far in the EFL Cup," he told Wenger.

"Thank you."

※※※

Twain became the focus of the British media once again after losing the EFL Cup.

This time, however, it was not because of something that had happened during the match. Twain had not provoked any of the Arsenal fans by the pitch, had not gotten in the face of the fourth official, and had not questioned the fairness of the referee in the post-match press conference.

He had peacefully accepted the loss, since winning the EFL Cup was never in his plans.

The reason he'd become the focus was not because of the match, but rather the publication of a new book.

The book was written by Carl Spicer from The Daily Telegraph and had finally been published after six months of preparations.

Due to how Spicer would actively speak about the book in his interviews, everyone already knew about the frighteningly long title of the book before it was even released.

"What Kind Of Man Is He: Uncovering The Mysterious Halo Around Tony Twain."

A blurry back view of a person was printed over the red book cover. The white letters of the title took up all of the space on the cover and were printed over both the red background and the black, blurry image of a person's back view.

During a television talk show, Spicer held up the book and spoke to the audience with a solemn face.

"He is a phenomenon." It was a quote from the title page of his book.

Twain had observed the author for a while after he'd found out that Spicer was the one who'd conducted that utterly foolish survey. Twain realized that many of the views that were against him were all written by this man.

He was very "anti-Twain."

Was his reason for writing the book so that he could earn money while writing his anti-Twain propaganda?

The book was sold out the moment it was released. The publisher had not anticipated that a book analyzing Twain would be so highly sought-after. Even people who were not fans of Nottingham Forest or football bought the book. It had to be hastily sent for reprint due to its overwhelming popularity.

Carl Spicer proudly announced in his column that the book delved into a very serious social issue and that it was not one of those boring biographies that discussed the private lives of celebrities. He also denied that he'd written the book to satirize Twain, calling it a form of performance art instead.

There was not a single good thing that was written about Twain in the book. It was full of comments that derided him, questioned him, and scolded him in a roundabout way.

However, such a book still became a bestseller in Britain. It had barely been published for a week and was already ranked third on Britain's Bestseller List for November, and it looked like it could continue to climb higher up that list.

A book with the name "Tony Twain" printed on it became overwhelmingly popular, but Twain earned nothing from it.

He felt ripped off.