Chapter 61: News from a Well-Informed Source

Dragon Bisheng and the others were left dumbfounded, listening in utter astonishment. Except for Dragon Bisheng and Wu Bufan, whose families weren’t well-off, the rest came from relatively comfortable backgrounds—some even considered modestly wealthy by local standards. Yet in their eyes, an amount in the tens of thousands was already a fortune. Now Liu Lin was telling them the Football Association’s annual revenue exceeded a hundred million!

To them, one hundred million yuan was just an abstract figure, something that existed only in their imagination. Wu Bufan couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’ve got to be kidding—a hundred million? I’ve seen the Football Association’s office building on TV, and it’s just a shabby two-story place. No way that’s the headquarters of an organization raking in that much a year.”

“Their building is indeed old, but that annual revenue is absolutely real,” Liu Lin replied with a smile.

“How do you know?” Li Jie interjected. “We read football newspapers all the time, but never saw anything about this.”

“Of course the papers won’t print it outright, but we can piece together clues and make a reasonable estimate,” Liu Lin said matter-of-factly. “For instance, a couple of years ago, Sports Arena Weekly reported that the number of ad boards the Association took from clubs each year dropped sharply, from twelve to four. Another article mentioned that Yunjiatianyue earned the most from stadium ad boards in the national league—ten million a year—while the worst was then-second-tier Liaoning, with only six million. Take an average, and that’s about eight million per club in ad revenue. The Association’s cut per club is around a million or so. With fourteen top-tier and sixteen second-tier clubs, that’s roughly forty million just from that. The luxury tax gets covered by the press frequently, and now that national team matches are so popular, a single game can pull in nearly a million. Add in miscellaneous income, and a figure north of a hundred million is quite close to the mark.”

The group exchanged bewildered glances. Liu Lin’s deductions had left them dizzy, but genuine admiration began to grow. Some of what he said had indeed appeared in the media, but which ordinary fan paid any attention? Yet he’d made the connections, unraveling the threads to estimate the Association’s annual revenue. Perhaps with enough attention, anyone could spot these things—but what was truly unsettling was that Liu Lin hadn’t studied these numbers; he recited them offhand, as if from memory. What kind of mind did he have?

“What’s the point of remembering all this so clearly?” Zhou Wei asked in exasperation.

“Oh, nothing special. I just happen to jot these things down in my mind when I read. I enjoy working out how everything fits together, that sense of seeing through the whole picture,” Liu Lin said with a grin.

“You’re something else,” Zhou Wei muttered, swallowing hard.

“Still, I can’t believe the Football Association actually pulls in that much a year... What have they done to deserve it?” Zhang Yi blurted out. For a top-tier club, a hundred million in annual funding would be a staggering investment.

“Well, it’s not entirely unfair,” Liu Lin explained. “The Association does a lot over the year—training youth national teams, organizing leagues for squads like ours, national university and high school competitions, regional junior high leagues, developing women’s football, and so on. That all costs money. They’re also opening football academies across the country, providing free training facilities for schools in areas with strong football traditions. All of that adds up.”

“It’s like taking from the people and giving back to the people,” Dai Guangming said with a laugh.

“Exactly,” Liu Lin nodded.

Hu Gantang, meanwhile, was focused on something else. “What about the other clubs—how strong are the players our age? Any real standouts?”

Liu Lin spread his hands. “You all treat me like a walking encyclopedia... I really don’t know. The newspapers never report anything about that.”

Everyone scoffed in unison. Liu Lin protested, “Come on, I’m only twelve! Where else could I get information except the papers? And even those don’t cover this stuff.”

They all drifted away, ignoring him. Liu Lin was left fuming.

“Honestly, the world’s going downhill—nobody cares to talk if they can’t get the answers they want. Barbarians, the lot of you.” Liu Lin put on a show of grumbling, but nobody paid him any mind. After all, they’d gotten to know Liu Lin over the past few days—he was not only well-informed and sharp, but a notorious chatterbox who couldn’t keep anything to himself. Whatever he knew, he’d eventually blurt out, so there was no need to coax him.

Liu Lin’s eyes darted mischievously, and suddenly he let out a couple of sly chuckles. At that sound, everyone knew he was up to something—probably getting ready to throw out some news just to draw their attention.

Sure enough, Liu Lin cleared his throat and, as if talking to himself, murmured, “Hmm, I did hear something interesting a couple of days ago, thought I’d tell you all, but since you’re not interested... I’ll just keep it to myself.”

No one looked up. Dai Guangming and Dragon Bisheng were reading, Zhang Yi and Zhou Wei were discussing a recent movie, Hu Gantang had his headphones on, and Li Jie and Wu Bufan were about to arm wrestle.

Seeing he was being ignored, Liu Lin didn’t mind. He continued lazily, “This bit of news actually concerns our school. If we know about it early, we might get the upper hand in future competition... But since you’re not interested, I’ll just keep quiet.”

He had found their soft spot. If it were any other subject, they wouldn’t have cared. But this was about Yunjiatianyue Football School—their own school—and future competition. They couldn’t help but be interested. After all, their goal was to stand out here and become true professionals.

They also knew Liu Lin had a knack for unearthing news that was always accurate and relevant. Given that, it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little.

“Hey, come on, Liu Lin—who said we weren’t interested? We’re dying to hear it! Out with it, you’re the man for news!” Zhou Wei grinned, signaling the others.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Zhang Yi chimed in, the king of gossip himself. Dai Guangming smiled and nodded as well, and the usually reserved Dragon Bisheng and Wu Bufan also nodded eagerly, wanting to hear what Liu Lin had to say.

Liu Lin looked around. “Hmm? Seems some comrades are still not showing enough enthusiasm. How can you improve if you’re so arrogant? A wise man is never ashamed to ask questions, especially when I’m so far above you that you have to look up just to see me. How can you expect to make progress with that attitude?” he teased, aiming his words at the seemingly indifferent Hu Gantang and Li Jie, nose in the air.

“Heh...” Li Jie stood up, and Hu Gantang calmly took off his headphones, flanking Liu Lin on either side. With a little force, Liu Lin let out a yelp.

“All right, all right, I’ll tell you! No violence—let’s use words, not fists!” Liu Lin waved his arms, darting away from the two brutes. Li Jie barked, “Enough nonsense! Spill it!”

“No rush,” Liu Lin said, already forgetting his ordeal as he straightened his clothes, “Patience, young men. Can’t eat hot tofu in a hurry, you know.”

Seeing Li Jie cracking his knuckles menacingly, Liu Lin hurriedly said, “All right, all right! A few days ago, I read in the paper—the Association plans to make it a requirement within the next three years that any club hoping to register as a top-tier team must have a women’s team. All the clubs are preparing. They say it’s to ensure the women’s national team remains competitive at the Olympics and World Cup.”

“But isn’t there already a women’s league? Why set up new teams?” Hu Gantang asked in puzzlement.

“No money,” Liu Lin replied. “Without the national team’s draw, the women’s league just can’t compete with the men’s in terms of excitement or revenue. So the Association is forcing top clubs to invest in women’s football. Right now, women’s football still needs the professional system to thrive.”

And Liu Lin was right. Even though the women’s team’s World Cup win in ’99 had sparked huge enthusiasm, reality was harsh—after the initial excitement, the women’s league’s appeal dropped sharply, and so did the players’ earnings. Without new investment, the once-glorious “Iron Roses” would soon wither.

“But what does this have to do with our football school?” Dai Guangming asked.

“For clubs that already have women’s teams, it’s just a matter of investing more. But Yunji doesn’t have a women’s team at all... So, according to reliable sources, our football school will start recruiting female players this term. Our little Shaolin Temple is about to welcome girls!” Liu Lin announced triumphantly.

“What?” Everyone stared, wide-eyed.