"I was just checking," His father said. "The international break is from late September to mid-October. You should have ti off, right? Do you want to co back for a visit?"
Ling's heart ached a little. "Plane tickets are too expensive, Dad."
"Don't worry about that. I've still got so private—"
"I'll make you seaweed jelly!" his mother suddenly shouted, snatching the phone.
"Your uncle brought over a bag of agar. I'll make your favorite, vacuum-pack it, and send it to you. It's low in calories!"
Ling smiled.
He could buy it at any supermarket here.
But he knew, after his rebirth, he understood.
The best way to show love to his family was to let them feel needed, to accept the things they so carefully prepared.
"I'd love that, Mom," he said, his voice warm. "I've actually been craving it lately."
"Alright! Good!" Yan Lanxia bead, her joy palpable even through the phone.
She chatted for another minute, but then glanced at the ti.
"Son, your dad and I are about to go out for a walk, so we'll have to stop here."
"Okay, Mom. Take care."
...
A while later, Ling Changzheng, having finished changing his shoes, looked at his wife in confusion.
"Aren't we going for a walk?"
"What walk?" Yan Lanxia said, putting down her phone and humming a little tune as she headed to the kitchen.
"Go find the big iron pot. I'm going to wash the agar."
"Why don't we use the pressure cooker? It'll only take an hour."
"No!" she snapped. "Pressure cooking makes it too soft. It'll start releasing water in two days. How could our son eat that?"
"Fine," Ling Changzheng sighed, his expression miserable.
'From Bin City to Manchester... the shipping cost alone could buy a hundred pounds of this stuff.'
But he dared not voice his complaints.
He wasn't the one calling the shots at ho.
...
Carrington Training Base
Youth Team Dormitory
Ling hung up the phone, a small, genuine smile on his face.
He focused his mind and opened the system.
'Dribbling: 79.65 (97)'
'Passing: 69.74 (83)'
'Shooting: 70.06 (95)'
Looking at the slowly increasing stats, Ling felt his fatigue vanish.
He noted, with a clinical eye, that as his stats approached the 80-point mark, the growth rate slowed.
'It makes sense,' he thought. 'The growth curve has to level off eventually.'
He glanced at the main quest. It was still marked as incomplete.
But it should be soon.
Filled with anticipation, Ling drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.
...
The Next Day
There were no fireworks. No celebratory cannons.
The signing ceremony was painfully simple.
Ling sat at a table facing a single cara, with Mourinho beside him.
A signing pen was poised over a blank sheet of paper.
The real contract had been signed an hour ago in an office.
"Look here, Ling, José, look at the cara."
Click!
The team photographer captured the ordinary photo.
Ling wasn't a hundred-million-pound star; he didn't get an elaborate event.
His new weekly wage was a full £1,500.
It was the absolute bottom tier of the first team, but Ling was more than satisfied.
It was his money.
He no longer had to spend his family's money. He could finally support himself.
This was the standard for all youth players.
How much they improved from here was up to them.
'Rashford started here,' Ling reminded himself. 'In two years, his wage went from £1,500 to £25,000. He just bought his mom an £800,000 house.'
The rest of the day was a blur of trivial matters: visiting the player reception departnt, setting up databases, filming a short promotional video, and choosing a jersey number.
By 5 PM, Ling was more exhausted than after playing a 90-minute match.
He dragged his weary body to his new dormitory.
The first-team accommodations were a complete upgrade.
Of course, most senior players chose to rent apartnts off-site.
It was, after all, hard to bring a girlfriend back to the training base, and if Mourinho found out, you'd probably be demoted on the spot.
Ling, however, was perfectly satisfied.
It wasn't that he couldn't afford to rent, but free, high-end accommodation was just good value.
He could focus solely on football.
After organizing his new room, Ling finally sat on his bed and eagerly opened the system.
A cold, chanical voice sounded.
'Ding!'
'Congratulations on completing the main quest: Enter Manchester United's First Team!'
'Quest reward: Golden Module Treasure Chest!'
A shimring golden box materialized in the air in front of him.
'Golden module selection completed...'
'Zidane "La Roulette" module!'
'Denílson "Stepover" module!'
'Ronaldinho "Elastico" module!'
'...'
A list of legendary skills scrolled by.
Ling held his breath, his heart pounding.
'Treasure chest opening...'
'Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Matthews "Shoulder Drop Dribble" module!'
The golden box shattered into countless fragnts of light that rged into Ling's mind.
He shuddered, a flood of new information—instinct, balance, timing—settling into his brain.
He felt... the sa. But he knew sothing new.
He quickly checked his attribute panel.
His dribbling stat had increased by 0.01.
Ling grinned.
'So that's how it is,' he thought, clenching his fist.
'The system gives the knowledge. It gives the key. But I still have to do the work. I still have to train to master it.'
Not bad.
...
10:30 AM Beijing Ti
Manchester United's official website and social dia accounts posted the news:
"Manchester United is pleased to announce that academy graduate Ling has signed a professional contract, keeping him at the club until 2022."
In Europe, the news created barely a ripple.
In China, it stirred up a storm.
----
Matthews "Shoulder Drop Dribble : The move is nad after the legendary English international footballer Sir Stanley Matthews. It is a classic attacking feint used to unbalance a defender and go past them.
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