Chapter 35: What a Coincidence

Sunny Dean woke up in his soft, spacious bed and noticed the lingering warmth of someone having slept beside him.

Could it be Orfina?

Just as Dean pondered this, he heard the door to the suite’s bathroom open. A woman wrapped in a bath towel walked out—though "wrapped" might be a generous term, as the towel was loosely draped over her full, firm breasts. Because her curves were so remarkably striking, the towel stayed in place as long as she didn't move too abruptly.

Dean shifted his gaze upward and saw her face. Oh no, it wasn't Orfina. The features were different, and so was the hair color. Orfina was a brunette; this woman was blonde. What was her name again? Looking at the hot, blonde stranger, Dean found he couldn't recall her name at all. Lisa? Theresa? Emily? Or something else?

Damn it! A naked woman in my bedroom, and I don't even know her name?

Seeing Dean’s stunned expression, the woman offered a charming smile. She tossed the towel she’d been using to dry her hair onto the bed, then reached up to pull away the one covering her chest. The fabric slid off and dropped to the floor, revealing her completely bare, stunning physique.

She then began picking up the clothes she had discarded the night before. There weren't many; aside from a down jacket for the cold, the rest of her attire probably contained less fabric than one of Dean’s shirts. Once dressed, she used her phone to call a car, then turned back to look at the still-dazed Dean. Her eyes wandered over his equally naked body before she exclaimed, "Truly a professional athlete, tsk tsk... You were so intense last night. I didn't even plan on staying over, but you wore me out so much I had to spend the night!"

She shook her phone. "Call me if you need me again. I’ll give you a discount. You already have my Instagram anyway." With that, she blew him a kiss.

***

Damn, so she was a call girl I booked last night...

Dean laughed at himself. He was now showered, wearing a bathrobe, and sitting in the downstairs living room. He had thought it was a one-night stand from the club. Why couldn't he remember? Was it because he’d had too much to drink? Thankfully, he’d played in yesterday’s match, so he had today off to rest. If he’d had to train after drinking and going "three hundred rounds" with that woman, he wasn't sure he could have maintained his fitness or form.

On the TV directly in front of him, a morning news program was playing. It was reporting on yesterday’s events: "...Yesterday’s match between Tyne and Herlingham FC was the highlight of this Premier League round..."

Hearing the anchor speak so solemnly, Dean couldn't help but scoff. *Hell, since when did our game against a newly promoted team become a Premier League highlight?*

"...With Wang coming off the bench to score twice, Tyne defeated Herlingham FC 4-1 at home. This was Wang’s debut for Tyne, and he got his career there off to a great start with two goals..."

Dean picked up the remote to change the channel. The next was a local Newcastle station playing the official announcement video from when Wang Lie joined Tyne. Wang, wearing the blue Tyne kit, smiled at the camera and said, "...I chose Tyne because I felt trust and respect from everyone at the club. I have no doubt that I will find success here..."

Dean frowned. Wang had been with the team for ten days; was the local media this behind? Still showing his introductory video?

He switched again. Still a local Newcastle channel, but this time it was a talk show where guests and the host were discussing yesterday's game: "...I still remember what Wang said in that video when he joined: he would give everything to bring victory to Tyne. And now he’s done it! Look at the first goal—Vitini’s pass was clearly off—I’m not criticizing Vitini, he was 'Man of the Match' material in this game—I’m just stating facts: he overhit that pass.

"And then we saw Wang gritting his teeth to chase the ball down. I’ve watched the slow-motion replay of that goal many times; I could even clearly see the veins in Wang Lie’s neck and temples... It was because he fought so hard that a bad chance turned into a goal. Wang could have easily not run; it wouldn't have been his fault if the attack failed anyway..."

The host nodded in agreement. "I think every Tyne player should go home and watch the replay of that goal repeatedly to learn from Wang how to never waste an opportunity. Our league standing would certainly be higher if they did..."

Dean expressionlessly hit the channel button, cutting off the sycophantic praise for Wang Lie.

The next channel was a national satellite station. The topic was still Wang Lie. The host and a pundit were discussing the bad blood between Wang Lie and Herlingham FC manager Kofi Rost: "We’ve scoured the records of their previous encounters, and there’s truly no special history. Rost’s attitude toward Wang or Soflian in the past was normal. Neither overly inferior nor arrogant... So we suspect that Herlingham FC had a major conflict with Rost over the signing of Wang, leading Rost to take his anger out on him..."

The guest joked, "Rost must have forgotten the consequences of provoking Wang."

The host replied, "Maybe he didn't forget. He probably thought Wang was old and incapable of fighting back. He didn't expect Wang to come off the bench and score a brace..."

"Wang might be old, but I think he still has the ability to retaliate against those who provoke him. Speaking of which, do you know who came to mind when I saw those two goals last night?"

"Who?"

"Helden, of course! Haha!"

The host laughed too: "Hahaha..."

Dean didn't switch the channel this time; he simply turned off the TV, and the jarring laughter vanished. *Damn, I wake up to watch the news and it’s all about that old scoundrel...*

*Damn it, he’s almost thirty-eight and was kicked out by Soflian. Why is he still so popular?*

Dean checked his social media. Like the TV, the local Newcastle groups were buzzing about Wang Lie’s performance. Some were excited, some worried it was just a flash in the pan for an aging veteran, and others were even dreaming of a finish better than just avoiding relegation.

To Dean’s surprise, there were very few negative comments about him, despite the fact that he’d wasted a clear opportunity in the match and knew his own performance as a substitute hadn't been good. He realized quickly that Wang Lie’s brilliance had become the hottest topic in town. Everyone was talking about him. Who had the energy to criticize Dean?

Before Wang arrived, Sunny Dean had been the team’s highest-paid and most valuable player. He was the focus, watched under a microscope. Now, with Wang Lie’s equal salary, even higher historical market value, and massive media following, he had successfully stolen the spotlight.

Anyone else might have been furious at being upstaged, but Dean felt a sense of relief. *Finally... finally I’m not the local headline anymore!* Thinking about it, maybe Wang’s arrival wasn't all bad.

His mood improved. He stood up from the sofa and decided to go back to his room for a nap. As he walked onto the second-floor balcony, he glanced outside. His gaze locked onto the villa a few dozen meters away—a house that had been vacant for nearly a year.

The backyards were separated by a wall, making them back-to-back neighbors. He’d grown accustomed to the darkness over there every night. But today, he saw two people on the second-floor terrace!

He pulled out his phone, switched to the 15x telephoto lens, and aimed at the familiar figure. *How could it not be familiar?*

Standing on the neighboring terrace was Wang Lie, that old scoundrel!

***

"The view isn't bad." Wang Lie looked out from the terrace of the villa he had rented. It sat atop a small hill in Northumberland. To the east and north were flat farmlands and meadows. To the west was a forest park and a highway. To the south, a residential area.

This was the "feng shui treasure" his agent, Fernando Clemente, had spent so much effort finding.

"The hardware is a bit old, and it lacked maintenance since it was empty for a year," Clemente had said, unsatisfied. Because of these flaws, Wang had been stuck in a hotel for a week while Clemente cleaned, repaired, and moved all of Wang’s equipment from his house in Manchester—including a 100,000-euro cryotherapy machine.

Now that he had debuted for Tyne and scored, he could finally move out of the hotel and into this place, which served as his private gym, therapy center, and home.

"It’s fine. You worked magic, Clemente, considering the atrocious efficiency of British workers," Wang said, half-joking. He was in a rush because his wife and two children were coming to stay until the winter break ended. Since his mother’s injury, his wife had been away caring for her, and he missed them dearly.

"I hope they have a good time here," Clemente said, clearly proud of his work.

"They will. Come over for dinner on my birthday," Wang invited. After so many years, they were more than just business partners.

"I agree," Clemente nodded. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Qiqi and Linlin."

Wang chuckled. "Wang Ziqi is a bit rebellious right now. He’s at that age where he’s a handful."

Clemente laughed. "Sounds like you."

Wang rolled his eyes. "How am I like that?"

"You’re quite rebellious too, Wang, especially when facing Helden. And I think Kofi Rost probably hates you right now."

Wang laughed, then turned to his agent. "Thank you, Fernando."

Clemente looked surprised. "Why say that?"

"You and your team handle the off-field issues so I can focus on football. Otherwise, given my personality, if I weren't playing well, I’d be a total failure in life," Wang said.

Clemente shook his head. "Are you getting sentimental because you’re turning thirty-eight?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I’m entering a brand-new phase and want to summarize the past." Wang gripped the railing, looking into the distance. The pain and struggle of the last six months were finally behind him.

Standing on this balcony, looking at the distant fields, he suddenly recalled a poem: *The mountain pass is like iron, yet today we stride across it from the very beginning.*

It truly was a fresh start.

Clemente teased, "Don't say that, Wang. I thought you were going to fire us."

Wang turned to him, amused. "Why would I fire you?"

"Because you said you were 'summarizing.' You wouldn't have said that before."

"What would I have said?"

"You’d say, 'It’s not time to summarize yet! My game isn't over!'" Clemente mimicked his tone.

Wang laughed heartily. "You’ve got it down, Fernando! But you're right. My game isn't over. At the very least, there’s still injury time!"

He looked toward the horizon, then, as if by instinct, turned his gaze toward the nearest villa.

***

Dean was watching Wang Lie through his phone’s telephoto lens when the man suddenly turned to look directly at him. Wang even pointed over!

Dean reflexively shut off the camera—even though he knew it was impossible for Wang to see him through the window reflection from that distance. He felt an inexplicable sense of pressure. He found himself hiding behind the wall and felt ashamed. *Why am I hiding from him?*

*Damn it!*

*It’s one thing to see him on the team, but how did I end up living next door to him?!*

Dean was speechless. He had noticed people moving in and out of the house next door for days, but he never expected the tenant to be... Wang Lie!

*Do you have to be this persistent? Did you have to rent the house right next to mine?*

***

"Who lives there?" Wang Lie asked, pointing at the villa a few dozen meters away.

"Your teammate, Sunny Dean," Clemente replied clearly.

Wang Lie smiled. "Well, that’s a coincidence."