713 The Original Dream

After a night in the throes of passion, Tony Twain was spent. He had used up all the energy that he had bottled up for more than half a year. He and Shania didn't know how many times they had made love, but it had certainly been a wild night. For a 40-year-old "uncle" with a heart condition, it could be considered amazing to have that kind of performance.

Until the mid-morning sun shone through a small crack in the curtains into the room, Shania still lay supine on the bed, and was unwilling to get up. When Twain patted her small buttocks and called her a lazy worm, she pouted and groaned, "Who was the one who turned Little Red Riding Hood into a lazy worm?"

After she finally got up and lifted the blanket, Twain found some red spots on the bedsheets. He also understood why Shania had lazed in bed and not gotten up.

But he was not surprised.

It was not because he thought that Shania should remain chaste and innocent. He was not surprised because he simply did not care if Shania was a virgin or not. He was clear-eyed about the world today, and he also knew what the girls of the world were mostly like.

But it had nothing to do with his love. If he loved a woman, he would simply love her. It could be that he loved her beauty, her character, or her heart, or even her talent, her voice, her eyes, her lips, her breasts...But he would never love a woman for the thin membrane inside her vagina.

Even if he were to get married, he wanted to marry this woman, and he didn't want to marry her with cellophane, so to speak.

Therefore, it was fine that Shania was a virgin, but it would not have mattered if she hadn't been. It would not affect his feelings for this girl. He also had never cared about such a meaningless thing as whether Shania had "tasted the forbidden fruit" with some boy before him.

At the thought of having finally had his fill of Little Red Riding Hood the night before, he felt fantastic. He even could not help licking and smacking his lips, and he almost wanted to say, "Very good, very good—delicious!"

Shania wore only a pair of lace-edged white panties. She came out of the bathroom with her upper body completely naked. Seeing Twain's expression, she asked wonderingly, "What are you doing, Uncle Tony?"

Twain laughed mischievously when he saw her perfect curves and seductive breasts, as well what was faintly discernible behind her lace panties. "Little Red Riding Hood is delicious..."

When Shania heard him say so, she walked directly over to him and him on the bed. Her waist sank slowly as she looked at Twain with her dark eyes. "Do you want to have breakfast, Uncle Tony? Look, it's hungry again..." She gently reached between Twain's legs.

Twain remembered that he still had to go to work today. If he really let Shania carry on like this, he was not certain whether he had the willpower not to spend the whole morning in bed.

"Eh...better forget it. I still have to go to Wilford..." He raised his hands in surrender. "And you have to get ready for the move... And speaking of the move—don't you think we'll be seen by the media?"

"Little Red Riding Hood" leaned down to give her Uncle Wolf a good morning kiss, and let him go.

"You and I are both public figures, Uncle Tony. We are long used to the media's attention being on us. As long as they don't rush into the bedroom and film our lovemaking, they can follow whatever they want." Shania was more at ease than Twain in her attitude toward the media. "And..." At this point, she smiled slyly. "I'm kind of looking forward to the media's reaction when they find out about our engagement...That will be fun!"

Twain gave Shania a light, affectionate pat on her smooth back. Shania sensibly let go, allowing him to slowly sit up from the bed and get dressed. Being together with such a lively and lovely girl, he would not find his days boring. He could not ask for more in a relationship.

※※※

After breakfast, Shania drove Twain to Wilford and returned to prepare for the move. But in fact, there was nothing to prepare for. There were just two suitcases of clothes, which could simply be put in the trunk of the car for the move.

Twain walked alone into the still-empty training ground. The team would start their training at ten o'clock, and he had come slightly early.

The three standard, stadium-sized training grounds were connected together. At a glance, it was an unobstructed view of green, which made him feel carefree and relaxed. He could not help but take a deep breath as he avidly sniffed the familiar smells of this place.

It was only when he came back here that he felt that his bodily strength had not vanished. A voice seemed to beckon to him, telling him that this was the home of his soul.

Stepping onto the turf, carefully cared for by the workers, Twain did a little warm-up exercise, and then put his hands into the pockets of his pants. His fingers brushed a piece of paper—an envelope, to be exact.

He then recalled that Allan Adams had given him a letter yesterday, saying that Ribéry had given it to him to pass over to Twain when he left.

Although he had already left and yesterday's time was gone, they had interacted with each other for four years, after all. Twain was still curious about the lad who had left in pursuit of money, and what he had written in the letter.

He pulled it out and opened it.

A thin piece of paper was shaken out.

"Dear Boss,

"I'm really sorry to have chosen to leave Nottingham Forest at this time. I don't care that they reproached me as a deserter. It also doesn't matter to me what others think of me. I just want to apologize to you...You may despise my actions. I can only say that for the sake of my family, Spain is more suitable than here.

"Of course, I'm not writing so much to justify what I've done. Has any player ever written to the manager to explain the reasons he left a team? So, this is not an explanation. I just wanted to thank you. Franck Ribéry is not a fool. Who gave him a chance at the lowest ebb of his life? I remember very well. I've learned a lot and gained a lot in my four and a half seasons at Nottingham Forest. It will be a valuable asset in my life experience. Now I have to say that unfortunately, I'm embarking on a new journey. I don't know if I'll have a chance to play under you again, boss. But it has been a fantastic four and a half years.

"I've always been reluctant to say this. But objectively, my departure has helped the team solve a little bit of its financial problem—fifty-five million euros' worth. If it wasn't for the economic crisis, I might have fetched a better price. Sixty million, eighty million? I don't know. We all knew what the second offer entailed before Piqué left. Perhaps in your mind, a person like me is different from Piqué. But in fact, it was like the last goal I could score for the Forest team. If you still watch La Liga, take a good look at our performance in El Clásico. I hope it doesn't disappoint you.

"Finally, after I finish writing this letter, I will completely be a Real Madrid player. In the future, if we do meet on the pitch, I may very well do my best with the goal of beating your team, like Bendtner. Don't get me wrong—I know you can be a little paranoid. I just want to prove that the players who come out of Nottingham Forest are the best anywhere! If I say I am going to score two goals against the Forest team by myself, I hope you'll say, 'I believe he will, because he has that ability.'

"Yours Sincerely, Franck Ribéry, whom you picked up from Ligue 2."

Twain stood on the training ground in a daze and let the cool breeze blowing in from the Trent River sweep past him, fluttering the letter in his hand.

After a long time, he gave a sigh and came out of his reverie. He wanted to take out a lighter to burn the letter. But when he reached into an empty pocket, he recalled that he had long quit smoking, so naturally he no longer carried a lighter.

He folded the letter back into the envelope and slowly tore it into two pieces, four pieces, eight pieces...until it finally became countless pieces of debris. With a toss from his hand, it was swept away by the wind.

Score two goals alone?

If you dare say that, I'll teach you the same lesson I taught Bendtner, Franck!

You want to run away like this? Not so easy. The next time we meet, be prepared to take my anger! You bastard!

※※※

Twain stood on the sidelines with his sunglasses on for the morning training again, just like he did before he fell ill. The team's morale also seemed to suddenly recover to what it had been before. George Wood was even more energetic. The team was slowly improving, and Twain thought of something else. People here might have heard about the matter of the purge, but they were more likely to treat it as meaningless speculation from the media.

Just before the training began, Allan Adams came looking for him. Adams told him that because of the team's poor results in the season, their revenue had plummeted after they ended up empty-handed. The budget was tight in all areas for next season. Therefore, the team had to sell some players in the summer in exchange for money. Twain could go to the transfer market to buy new players, but there was a severe restriction on the price.

Allan hoped Twain could draw up a purge list for him, to help him determine the budget estimates for the new season.

Currently, the list of players who could either stay or leave the team could all fit on an A4-sized sheet of paper in front of his eyes.

This time, Twain did not make a big scene with Allan in the office, or vehemently argue against the club selling people. He just nodded and agreed. He did not say anything else.

He understood that this was the reality. People had to eat, live their lives, survive, and live on. The same went for the club...

Who among these people could eventually stay in Wilford?

Twain began to plan in his mind.

※※※

After the training ended, Twain took Dunn and went to North Wilford. Dunn was not surprised by it—he thought Twain was going to dig up talent himself for next season.

But Twain's actions took him by surprise.

"Ian, I've finished reading these two records." Twain was in Greenwood's office. He put two thick training logs on the table. "I went through them in one shot and I'm still not satisfied yet."

"It's nice that you like it, Tony," Greenwood replied with a chuckle. He took this as Twain's affirmation of his work. But Twain's next words stopped his laughter.

"Why are there not a third and fourth book? His story is not over, and I haven't seen the ending yet. I've made up mind." Twain's finger stabbed at the training log. "You're going to take him back to training soon, Ian."

The other two men in the room were baffled, and did not understand what Twain had said.

Looking at their puzzled expressions, Twain continued. "I mean, I'm going to give this kid an apprenticeship. The club will handle the transfer procedures, and apply for a student visa for him to register with the Chinese Football Association as a player ... Then let him come here and write an ending!"

"Tony!" Dunn exclaimed. His behavior could be considered a gaffe based on his usual conduct. But he did not care about these details. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I'm very clear, Dunn. I want him to come and train under me."

"Tony... Why would you do that? He has already left. Surely there's no need to get him back, is there? Although I also admire Chen's efforts and spirit, he is not an amazing young talent for us... I don't think we will reap any rewards from investing our energy in him." Even Greenwood, who had watched Chen Jian train all year, disagreed with Twain.

"It's up to him to get something in return, and it's our business whether to give him the chance or not. I think I found a piece of rough stone in those two thick logbooks, a rough stone in which a brilliant diamond might be enclosed."

"Maybe there's nothing, and it's just a stone." Dunn finally calmed down.

"There has never been a pure talent in the world. A genius may become mediocre, and a good-for-nothing may become a talent. I believe in my foresight, Dunn. And I believe even more in this boy's efforts. Maybe it's going to take longer, but I think we'll always get something out of it. If this lad could persist for a year based on George Wood's training standards without giving up and do a good job, I think he can succeed." At this point, he looked at the two men and said seriously, "This is the final decision. I'm going to give him a chance. Just like when I gave George Wood a chance outside the ghetto."

Dunn frowned and said, "Do you know what kind of media attacks you're going to provoke by doing this? They'll say you must be crazy to actually have high hopes for a Chinese kid chosen from a talent show. Others will think that you're just keen on the market of the country he represents…"

Twain interrupted him, "I don't need the media's validation in order to do what I want to do. They can admonish me all they want. I'll just do what I need to do. They have no right to interfere with my freedom. That's it, Ian. When the boy comes, please give him George's training plan and let him continue to follow it. Let's see what he can do for us as he perseveres."

※※※

In Tianjin, China, at the Tianjin Justice Jingguan School, Chen Jian had just come out of the school building, holding a pile of books and wearing a navy-blue uniform. It looked no different from the standard Type 99 police uniform, except that he did not have a collar badge, police rank, and shoulder emblem.

His companion greeted him, "Ah Jian, let's play football later! You're the core, you must be there!"

"Okay, I'll come after I go to the dorm and put my stuff." Chen Jian did not refuse.

In fact, he had things on his mind just now.

Having been back from England for more than three months, he found himself completely unable to forget every single day and night he had spent there. He even felt that it was no longer important to continue to study here.

Even though the name of the school was flashy, the standards were actually rather average, and it was essentially a vocational academy. Everyone would either go out to earn a living after graduation, or they would continue their studies at a university. If a person thought that he could become a police officer of the People's Republic of China once he entered, then the reality might disappoint him.

He had not found where his future realistically lay at the moment.

As for his dream future...

Had it already bidden him farewell?

Although he still tenaciously carried out his personal training with whatever available time he had every day, a habit which he had developed in Nottingham, he was willing to admit that it was nothing more than a habit. A year of training life bore so deep an impression on him that it was almost imprinted in his bones. It was rather difficult to forget in a few months.

What's the point of this foolish behavior? Knowing that I'm not destined to realize the dream, what's the use of such persistence? What else can I do if I can't be a professional player? Apply to become a security guard after graduation? Or rely on connections, and use money to enter by the back door and get an assignment? Or else I could continue to sit for the examinations to enter the university, go for tests in the academies directly under the Ministry of Public Security, and become a real policeman after graduation...

But with my own academic performance, plus the delay due to my trip to Britain, will I still have a chance if I sit for the test at that kind of university?

Chen Jian felt very lost.

When he went to England, it was with two other people, and it was still the three of them when he returned to China. Unsurprisingly, no one had received the "reward" of staying on the professional team. Even so, Chen Jian was quite popular among the students who liked football in the school. His good friends always liked to pester him, hoping to hear him talk about what real professional football was actually like.

He did not turn down these curious classmates. But whenever he talked about past events, the floodgates of his memory could not be shut. He felt unwilling to resign himself to his fate.

He recalled again the scene when Tony Twain had yelled at him in the rain. Every word rang in his ears, and he was unable to forget.

"...When you return to China, are you honestly going to go back to your studies, graduate and look for a job? And then will you be satisfied with occasionally playing amateur football with a pot belly? When you're old, you're going to brag to your grandson and tell him how his grandfather once trained for a year in the UEFA Champions League champion's youth team, Nottingham Forest! What if your grandson asks you what happened after that year? What are you going to say? You'll say—ah, your grandfather was so bad at a team game that he gave up and went back to China in tears..."

I did not give up. I also did not cry and run back to China. But that doesn't change anything, Manager Twain. I am still me in this vocational academy, feeling lost about my own future.

Do you understand, Manager Twain? Can you understand my situation and my mood?

I fully appreciated the cruelty of professional football, and I experienced the gap between me and the rest of the youth team. But it's only a year...One year was not enough for anything! I had worked very hard. I wished I could be doing header shot drills instead of sleeping. Why did you only give me a year? Why couldn't I have started regular training from the age of ten, like the players in the youth team...

Ah, I want to play professional football! I want to be one of those star players who can only be seen on the television. I even believe that given a few years, I will be just as good as them. I can stick it out no matter how hard, exhausting, and brutal the training can be. This time, I absolutely promise not to give up. I'll persevere and be strong, like my name.

But why was it only one year...

I had just stepped onto the threshold, and the door was closed. What can I do? If I had a lot of money, I would have emptied my pockets to buy Nottingham Forest, and changed nothing. It would only have been to give me a chance, and to give me more time...

A year ago, I thought a year was enough. Many people could have had the same dream, and would not necessarily have had the time and opportunity of a year. But a year later, I now realize that a year was only enough for me to acquire superficial knowledge.

What's the use of understanding this?

Chen Jian laughed at himself and entered the dormitory.

"Ah Jian, are you back? Just in time!" His dormitory roommate jumped out of bed and said, "Someone called you just now. I said you were out and hadn't returned from your class. He said he would call again later."

Chen Jian was surprised. Who would call him? "Did he say who he was?"

"He did not say, and I forgot to ask, too... Do you still want to play football? Or are you going to wait here for the call?" His roommate picked up the grubby football and headed it in the dormitory. "Hey, catch the ball!"

He headed the football toward Chen Jian's head. Chen Jian lifted his leg instead and firmly stopped the falling football at his feet. The entire routine was deftly executed, as if it was unintentional.

"Well done, Jian! You've gained a lot from your year in Britain!" His roommate was complimenting him, and yet it upset Chen Jian. "I'll say, real professional football is definitely different! I guess if their youth team were to play directly in the Chinese Super League, they would definitely be a Double Winner? But if Arsenal's youth team were to come, I think they could still be the runner-up! Well, well...I want to go to England, too. Although it's only one year, I would die without regrets if I were to be able to experience the world's leading level of the sport!"

Chen Jian returned the football to him and said, "Aren't we playing football? Let's go."

"You're not waiting for the call?" His roommate pointed to the telephone.

"No. It's probably to ask me to play football." Chen Jian put his books on his bed and began to take off his school uniform to change into his sports gear.

"Hey, you're popular since you came back from your studies in England...I'll go first!" his roommate called out, and rushed out the door with the football.

While Chen Jian was putting on his boots, the telephone on the table suddenly rang.

Chen Jian stared blankly for a moment before he went over to answer the phone. "Hello, 705, who are you looking for?"

"Is Chen Jian here?" A man's voice came on.

"This is he. May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Dunn. Hello, Chen Jian. Fortunately, when you signed up for that event, you left your dormitory phone number. Otherwise we really wouldn't know how to contact you ..."

When the man gave his name, Chen Jian thought something was wrong with his ears.

"Someone here wants to talk to you..." Dunn did not wait for Chen Jian to say anything, and just handed the phone to another man.

"Chen Jian, it's Tony Twain!" A man with a voice full of energy spoke into the earpiece, and he spoke in Mandarin.

Chen Jian was jolted into awareness by the voice, but still could not accept the reality for a while—why had Nottingham Forest's manager and assistant manager called him?

"I have a question for you now, Chen Jian." Twain spoke as if he was talking to himself on the phone, and completely ignored how Chen Jian would feel after hearing his name. "Do you still remember...your original dream?"

The original dream? How can I forget? To play football! To play professional football, like the star footballers on TV!

"To play football—professional football," Chen Jian replied, standing straight.

"Very good." Twain smiled and said, "Remember what I said to you? Professional football is definitely not as simple as you think, and a dream is not..."

"...something that can be achieved just by talking." Chen Jian and Twain said the latter half of the sentence together.

"Ha, it looks like you haven't forgotten. That's good. I don't want to get back a good-for-nothing loser who has long since given up, and can't remember that year."

"I haven't forgotten a single day of that year, Mr. Twain."

"Well, Chen Jian. Then listen carefully...As far as you were concerned, the road to your dream had come to a dead end. What do you think is blocking you? A wall? No, no, no, I want to tell you now that it is not a wall, but a mountain that is blocking your way forward! If you have to realize that original dream, what are you going to do, Chen Jian? Answer me."

Chen Jian thought about it, and then replied, in a tone reserved for answering one's instructor, "Dig through it, sir!"

He heard a burst of laughter from the receiver, with Twain's voice coming through intermittently amidst the laughter: "Dunn, did you hear what he said? Dig through it! Dig through it! Hahaha! Do you still doubt my vision? Have you heard the way many people would answer this question? Dig through it, dig through it...That's the best answer I've ever heard!"

Then Twain's voice became clear again. "Very well, student of The Foolish Old Man Who Removes Mountains.I'm giving you the chance to dig through the mountain! I don't care how long you're going to take. I just want you to dig through it! Do you understand? You have to dig through the mountain, not go around it. You can't get around it at all. This mountain props up the sky on the land below. It stretches continuously around the earth from east to west. You can't get around it. You'll either turn around and walk back, or you'll dig through it for me! This is the last chance you have to choose: A, you can continue to stay in that school and accept the facts; or B, you can leave that place and come here, to be the foolish old man who removes mountains! I must remind you that once you choose B, there is no turning back. You cannot go back to the school to continue your studies. Your life may change dramatically. Please carefully consider before you give me an answer. I'll leave you the contact details..."

Before Twain could finish, he was interrupted by Chen Jian's determined voice.

"B. I choose B, Mr. Twain."

Twain had not expected Chen Jian to give an answer so soon. He was somewhat taken aback, and asked in return, "You don't need to think things over? Are you really not going to think about it? This concerns a big turning point in your life. Are you really not going to seriously think it over, or discuss it with your parents?"

Chen Jian raised his fist on the other end of the line and said, "Mr Twain. This is the only path for me. In order to realize my original dream, I am willing to pay the price."

All of a sudden, he was not lost. The problem that had perplexed him while he walked all the way from the school building just now had been easily resolved!

His real future and the future of his dreams were at a confluence here, and then merged into one road, which was paved under his feet. When he looked up ahead, he saw the dark mountain which stretched from the sky to the ground, and spanned for thousands of miles until he could not see the edges. It coldly overlooked him.

Was there not a way?

No. Once he dug through the mountain, the road would be waiting for him on the other side.

At that time, he would see a whole new world, which would be completely different from his prospects here. There would be nothing to stop him. Even if the path was dangerous and difficult, with high mountains to dig through and rivers and oceans to cross, he would not let them stop him from running forward.

With the original dream tightly grasped in his hands, how could he give up halfway down the road to the place where he wanted to go the most?

He would definitely arrive at his original dream. He! Would! Absolutely! Arrive!

"Very good! Twain's voice became serious, too. "I'll remind you for the last time. You're not an official Nottingham Forest player, even once you come here. You're just an apprentice. I will not give you any guarantees. I make no promises that you will certainly become a professional player and definitely achieve your original dream. Don't even get any ideas now about having the opportunity to represent and play for the First Team! The club can't promise you anything. Wages, package, contract guarantees... nothing can be promised. We'll give you nothing except this chance. Maybe you'll train until you're 26 years old and can only be on the reserve team, or simply be eliminated and can only go to those semi-professional teams to get by. Feel free to imagine worse scenarios...so, do you still want to come?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want to come even if you have to bet on the future and destiny of your life?" Twain raised his voice for the question.

And Chen Jian almost roared to him, "Yes!!"

"Very well, kid! I'll be waiting for you. In Wilford, Nottingham, I'll wait for you!"

※※※

Twain was suddenly stirred by Chen Jian's tone. He felt his body burning with fervor, and even used force when he hung up the phone.

Dunn was a little surprised, "You hung up, just like that? I wanted to talk to him about some specific things..."

"You can just call him back." Twain waved his hands. "It takes little effort. Ah, Dunn, I'm suddenly not interested in Chen Jian's dream...I just want to see his performance on this road. As far as the goal is concerned...it has become a bonus."

"Do you really believe he can do it? I'm afraid that people will just laugh at him for overestimating his capabilities."

Twain gave a snort, and returned to his previous cold manner. "Everyone in this world who feels 'more clear-headed' than others, has reached the point where the so-called wise man is a dime a dozen, and wise men are everywhere. But I think it's better to have more foolish old men. Because whatever difficulties the wise men encounter, they will always shake their heads and say that it is impossible, that it will not work. But the foolish old men will be willing to do the hard work, and try until the end. Taking the road into the dark can perhaps lead to the dawn. If Chen Jian dares to bet on the future of his life to come here and dig through the mountain, I'll dare to accompany him to the end! If someone wants to mock him, then let them mock, and we'll see who has the last laugh!"