Unconventional Center

Chapter 9: Let’s See Who’s the Sucker

With the exception of the Premier League, the winter breaks for other major leagues begin before Christmas and resume in early January. The winter transfer window for all levels of leagues in Spain also opens on January 3rd and remains open until the end of the month. By the time the winter transfer window opens, the league season is already halfway through. The primary purpose of this window is simply for clubs to fill gaps in their rosters; few teams make major moves at this time, typically limiting themselves to minor tweaks to their lineups. However, this year’s La Liga has been somewhat unusual. First, shortly after Christmas, Atlético Madrid brought homegrown prodigy and this year’s Golden Boy Award winner David Álvaro from Mallorca to Madrid for 30 million euros. Then, the transfer saga surrounding Luis Luá—which had dragged on for an entire year—finally came to a close. Lua is one of the hottest attacking players in soccer today. At 25, he is in the prime of his career. This Brazilian prodigy not only possesses outstanding technical skills and blistering speed but is also exceptionally adept at seizing opportunities to score goals. He can be described as the most fearsome all-around striker on the modern soccer field. Last season, he single-handedly led the underdog Portuguese team Marítimo all the way to the Champions League final. Although they lost to the star-studded Galactic Warship, his individual performance was impressive, and he is already considered one of the leading figures in world soccer for the next decade. Barcelona paid 100 million euros to bring the Brazilian to Camp Nou, leaving other envious clubs both jealous and frustrated. It’s important to note that Lua won’t be eligible to play in this year’s Champions League after joining Barça, yet the club still rushed to sign him—and everyone knows exactly why. Real Madrid, boasting five superstars, has gelled seamlessly under the guidance of their Portuguese coach. Not only did they dominate every competition last season, but this season they’re also crushing La Liga opponents, displaying a truly unstoppable momentum. Barcelona, currently in the midst of a generational transition, had a disappointing summer transfer window and now has no choice but to spend lavishly in the transfer market. After his outstanding performance in the previous match, Chu Yang had originally thought the much-hyped mega-transfer had absolutely nothing to do with him—but a phone call from the club’s commercial director shattered his illusions. “Chu, I’m very sorry, but you’re no longer part of our plans for the second half of the season. I think you can start talking to other clubs.” “The club has received formal offers from five clubs so far—three from China, one from the Eredivisie, and one from the Segunda División. Please consider them carefully; we’ll respect your decision.” The director didn’t say much, but his meaning was crystal clear. You’ve been put up for sale. If there’s a club you’d like to join, they can come forward on their own; if not, just pick one from the list of bidders. We’re very considerate and will fully respect the player’s wishes, blah blah blah. After hanging up, Chu Yang twirled his phone between his fingers, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. Being sold—wasn’t that to be expected? So why did he still feel a bit resentful… Of course, there were clubs he’d love to join—but they were all the kind where he was interested in them, yet they weren’t interested in him. So his only options were the five clubs that had made offers. He set aside the three Chinese Super League teams for now. For someone like him who’d started his career in La Liga, the Spanish Segunda División was a bit too low a level, so he ruled that out as well. That left the Dutch Eredivisie as his top choice. “Eindhoven? Damn it, I don’t speak Dutch from the Netherlands.” No sooner had that complaint popped into his head than his phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number from Spain. To his surprise, when he answered, the voice on the other end wasn’t speaking English or Spanish—it was the most familiar sound of all: Mandarin. “Hello, is this Chu Yang?” asked a deep, rich male voice. “That’s me. Who’s this?” “I’m Chen Ping, president of Valencia CF. I’m sure you know why I’m contacting you.” “I know.” Valencia CF was one of the clubs that had made an offer to Laco. The landscape of soccer in this world differed slightly from that of Chu Yang’s previous life. The top-tier teams were still the same familiar names, but some once-powerful clubs had become weaklings, while some perennial underdogs had transformed into formidable contenders. The most striking example was Valencia. This club, which had been a near-elite powerhouse in Chu Yang’s previous life, had become a weak team struggling in the Segunda División here. Although it had once enjoyed a glorious era of dominating La Liga and the Champions League, it had now essentially fallen into the ranks of a perennial relegation candidate, failing to secure promotion year after year—a fact that had surprised Chu Yang for quite some time when he first arrived in this world. Still, it was merely surprise. He hadn’t been a fan of The Bats in his previous life, so after arriving here, he hadn’t bothered to learn much about Valencia. Chen Ping said, “I’m in Deportivo La Coruña right now. I wonder if you have time to meet up and chat?” “Oh?” Chu Yang hadn’t expected the other party to be so sincere. “Sure, I’d love to.” Most clubs in Spain are shareholder-owned, not membership-based as many people imagine. The club presidents serve as representatives of the major shareholders and are responsible for managing the club’s day-to-day operations. Of course, some major shareholders also serve as presidents themselves—it remains to be seen which category Mr. Chen Ping falls into. It was right around dinnertime—or perhaps Chen Ping had deliberately chosen that time to call Chu Yang—and he immediately suggested meeting at a high-end restaurant in Deportivo La Coruña. Chu Yang, who had previously wondered whether Chen Ping might be from South Korea or Singapore, instantly confirmed Chen Ping’s identity. Discussing business over a meal—that’s a cultural tradition. Chen Ping looked to be around fifty years old. Wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and dressed in a suit and tie, he was clearly a business executive. However, to Chu Yang’s surprise, it wasn’t Chen Ping himself who spoke with him, but another young man. He looked to be under thirty, exceptionally handsome, and only slightly shorter than Chu Yang—at around 1. 77 meters, his height was average for a Chinese man. The young man extended his hand and said, “Hello, Chu Yang. I’m Xiao Luo, chairman of Valencia CF.” He paused for a moment, as if to emphasize his stature, and added, “The Xiao from Tenglong.” Tenglong Group is China’s largest internet enterprise. They run Weibo, the nation’s largest social media platform; they developed We Chat, the country’s most popular messaging app; they operate Qianxun, the leading search engine; and they built Taobei, the largest e-commerce site. Just imagine what it would be like if the BAT trio from Chu Yang’s previous life were all combined—that would give you an idea of the scale of Tenglong Group in this world. Xiao Yu, the head of Tenglong, was only in his fifties, yet he had been Asia’s richest man for five consecutive years. This business tycoon’s life was nothing short of legendary—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a “cheat code” existence. Countless urban reincarnation and business-system novels modeled after him flooded the internet. Everyone in the country knows that Xiao Yu has an only son, but very little is known about him—and now it seems this is the young man standing right in front of him. “I never expected to run into the legendary ‘Crown Prince of Tenglong’ on foreign soil. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Chu Yangdao said. “Buying a team like Real Madrid vs. Manchester United isn’t very realistic, but with Tenglong’s financial clout, acquiring a mid-to-lower-tier team in a top-tier league shouldn’t be too difficult, right? Why has Xiao Dong gone to play around in the Segunda División?” Xiao Luo explained with a smile, “Of course it’s not difficult for Tenglong, but for me, it’s no easy task.” “Now that you put it that way, I get it,” Chu Yangdao said. “What is this, some kind of test for heirs, or just a rich kid’s hobby?” Xiao Luo looked at Chu Yang and said earnestly, “No, it’s my main business—the kind I’ve poured most of my heart and soul into.” Chu Yang rubbed his nose and asked, feigning ignorance, “All right, then why did you bring me here?” Xiao Luo didn’t answer his question but asked instead, “Do you know why Laco put you on the transfer list?” “I’m not good enough, I guess.” “That’s one way to put it,” Xiao Luo nodded. “They’re buying Burmondo, and they’re already set to succeed—so naturally, you’ve become surplus to requirements.” “No wonder,” Chu Yang said with a wry smile. Between him and Burmondo, even the most foolish person would know which to choose. “You seem surprisingly calm,” Xiao Luo remarked, having been observing Chu Yang the whole time. “Aren’t you a bit resentful?” “I’m not resentful at all. As I said, my skills aren’t up to par—I accept it wholeheartedly,” Chu Yang picked up the tea in front of him and took a sip. “I just didn’t expect that with my limited skills, I’d catch Xiao Dong’s eye. I’m a bit flattered.” “Mr. Chu, you’re being too modest. You might think we decided to bring you to Valencia based on your performance in the last match, but that’s not actually the case,” Chen Ping, who had been silent until then, interjected. “Xiao Dong had his eye on you a long time ago. This offer was prepared well in advance, and we’ve already drawn up a very generous contract for you.” Chu Yanggang had just thought to himself, “Your judgment really isn’t that great, Mr. Xiao,” when Xiao Luo’s next words made him realize he’d jumped to conclusions. “Originally, I thought that since we’re all from China, we should help each other out whenever possible. After all, you weren’t happy at Laco, and I needed some buzz to attract fans back home. Plus, the scouts really appreciated your professional attitude, so I had them keep a close eye on you. I never expected you to pull off such a stunning hat trick right before the transfer window opened—you even caught the attention of Eindhoven. I bet you’re already thinking about where to learn Dutch in the Netherlands, aren’t you?” Without a hint of embarrassment, Chu Yang bluffed, “No way. It’s just a job—if I had a choice, I’d still prefer my boss to be from China.” Xiao Luo didn’t call him out on it, but asked, “Do you know what offer Laco has made for you?” “I remember Laco was pretty optimistic about me back then. The buyout clause was 10 million, I think. The transfer fee couldn’t be higher than that. Let me guess,” Chu Yangdao said, “9 million?” “You really do think highly of yourself,” Xiao Luo said with a laugh. “Five million? If we haggle a bit, we should be able to knock off a little over a million.” “Over three million? That’s still a lot of money.” He couldn’t remember the exact exchange rate between the euro and the renminbi, but it was roughly one to eight—so over three million euros would be at least over twenty million renminbi. “The market valuation is fifty thousand at most. It’s a seller’s market—they’re just jacking up the price,” Xiao Luo said. “Everyone knows there are plenty of suckers in China these days.” “Well, that’s a truly disheartening story.” Xiao Luo tapped his fingers lightly on the table. After a moment of silence, he said, “Eindhoven is only willing to shell out 600,000 for you, but I’m kind of tempted to pay those three million-plus.” “Because of those three goals?” Chu Yang laughed. “Aren’t you afraid I was just lucky?” “It’s still worth a bet,” Xiao Luo smiled back. “I’ve always had good judgment and luck.” “That’s certainly true,” Chu Yang replied, “You can tell just by looking at the family you were born into.” Xiao Luo gave Chen Ping a nod, and Chen Ping took a contract out of his briefcase and slid it toward Chu Yang. “This is a token of my sincerity. I just revised it last night. Take a look. It’s a three-year contract with an annual salary of one million euros, a breach-of-contract penalty of one RMB, and additional bonuses,” Xiao Luo said. “I’m actually curious to see who’s the real sucker here.” Chu Yang couldn’t help but laugh again. “Xiao Dong certainly has a lot of confidence in his own judgment,” he said. He didn’t know where an annual salary of one million euros ranked in the Spanish Segunda División, but it was surely among the very highest. As for the one yuan RMB penalty clause—it was beyond bizarre. A “break clause” refers to a fee that a buyer must pay to the seller when the player wants to leave, the buyer wants to acquire him, but the seller refuses to let him go. It sounds complicated, but it’s essentially a buyout fee for the player. Logically, the higher a club rates a player, the higher the buyout clause they set—allowing the club to profit when the player absolutely must leave before his contract expires. Now, however, Xiao Luo has taken the opposite approach: the penalty clause is effectively free—just one yuan. This signals either confidence that Chu Yang won’t leave of his own accord, or that even if Chu Yang no longer wishes to stay at Valencia CF, the club will not stand in his way. This is a contract where the spirit of the “underworld” far outweighs commercial considerations—it’s steeped in the romanticism of an idealist and the reckless whims of a spendthrift. Rather than a legal contract, it’s more like a gentlemen’s agreement; to outsiders, it probably looks no different from a farce. This rich kid has quite a bit of personality. With that thought in mind, Chu Yang extended his hand and shook Xiao Luo’s once more. “Let’s work well together, boss.”