107: Chapter 107 Drowning Sorrows in Alcohol Only Makes It Worse: 10 Days! A Choice at the Crossroads!

Sending off Roy Hodgson and Gareth Southgate, that family dinner, which seemed harmonious on the surface but was turbulent underneath, came to an end in the cold wind of a London winter night.

The villa door closed gently, sealing off the outside world, and also leaving behind a heavy multiple-choice question, along with those two pristine No. 7 and No. 10 jerseys, in Yu Bai's living room, weighing on his heart.

Yu Bai gave Roy Hodgson the reply of "10 days to consider."

This deadline gave him room for buffering and deep thought, while also leaving room for maneuver.

Although Roy Hodgson and Gareth Southgate felt a bit of regret and anxiety about this deadline, they understood that this was the most solemn promise Yu Bai could give.

They left with anticipation and a trace of unease, afraid that a long delay would lead to complications.

That night.

Only one floor lamp was on in the living room, casting a dim and warm light.

The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, making a faint crackling sound.

Yu Bai and Wen Wan did not go upstairs; instead, they sat side by side on the soft, thick carpet, leaning against the sofa.

On the small table between them sat an opened bottle of red wine, two wine glasses, and a few simple snacks Wen Wan had prepared.

There was no conversation, only silence, and the complex, indescribable emotions permeating the air.

Yu Bai picked up the wine bottle, poured himself a full glass, tilted his head back, and drank nearly half of it in one go. The warm current of alcohol slid from his throat into his stomach, slightly dispelling the chill and frustration in his heart. He poured some more, then pushed the bottle toward Wen Wan.

Wen Wan silently poured herself a glass as well but did not drink it, instead holding the glass with both hands, feeling the temperature from the glass wall, her gaze fixed on the flickering fire.

"Tell me," Yu Bai finally spoke, his voice low, tinged with the slight tipsiness and exhaustion of alcohol, "Football, just such a small ball, how can it... hold so many messy things?"

"Honor, dreams, money, pressure, choices, betrayal, loyalty..."

He swirled the wine in his glass and smiled self-deprecatingly, "Sometimes I feel that playing football itself has become the simplest thing."

Wen Wan turned her head to look at him. The warm yellow light cast soft shadows on his angular side profile, and those eyes, which were usually sharp or cunning, were now covered with a layer of confusion and heaviness.

"Talk to me."

Wen Wan said softly, leaning her body closer to him, gently bumping her shoulder against his to convey silent support, "Talk about your 'little football' and your 'big dreams'."

Yu Bai was silent for a moment, took another sip of wine, and then slowly, intermittently, began what was perhaps his first such honest outpouring.

"I came to London... when I was 8."

He looked ahead without focus, "London Colney Training Centre, Arsenal's youth academy. At that time, apart from football, I had almost nothing, and I didn't understand anything either."

"My dream... has actually always been very simple."

He paused, his voice carrying an imperceptible tremor, "It's just to wear the jersey with the five-star red flag, stand on the World Cup stage, lead the China National Team, rush into the World Cup, even if it's just standing there, to let the whole world see that we Chinese people can also play good football."

"I've had this dream for nearly ten years."

"But..."

He suddenly tilted his head back and drained the remaining wine in his glass, his Adam's apple rolling violently. When he spoke again, his voice was full of bitterness and helplessness:

"But I am very unfamiliar with the current China National Team."

"I've been in London since I was 8. I grew up here, played football here. My friends, teammates, opponents, coaches are almost all British or people from other countries. My impression of Chinese football is still stuck in... very vague childhood memories and the disappointing news that followed."

"I don't have any friends—no, I don't know anyone on that team. I have to go with a group of teammates I don't know or understand, whose level might... not be that great, to complete the goal of 'rushing into the World Cup,' which to others seems almost like a fantasy..."

"Wen Wan," he turned his head, looking at her so directly and vulnerably for the first time. Those usually bright eyes were now clearly reflecting the fire, as well as bottomless confusion and pain, "I'm scared."

"I'm afraid I can't do it. I'm afraid I'll be dragged down. I'm afraid that all my efforts will end up in nothing, and I'll be scolded for 'wasting talent' or 'delaying the Chinese National Football Team' (although that sounds ridiculous). I'm afraid... that the dream I've had for ten years was just a bubble that would burst at the slightest touch from the beginning."

When he reached the depths of his feelings, Yu Bai's eyes uncontrollably turned red, and a thin layer of mist quickly spread, but he bit his lip hard, not letting the tears fall, just blinking hard and turning his face slightly to the other side.

Wen Wan watched his side profile as he held back tears, watching his trembling shoulders, and her heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, making it impossible to breathe. She reached out and gently held his hand resting on his knee. His hand was ice cold.

She didn't speak, just used the warmth of her own palm to silently convey comfort and support.

Yu Bai gripped her hand back tightly, as if grabbing the only piece of driftwood. He took a few deep breaths to calm his emotions, poured himself more wine, and added some for Wen Wan as well.

"Choosing England..."

He began to analyze the other option, his tone becoming rational but showing more struggle:

"There are too many benefits. Roy Hodgson's trust, the promise of being the tactical core, familiar Premier League teammates and environment, top-tier platform and exposure, tickets to the European Cup and World Cup... They are even willing to let Rooney give up the No. 10 jersey for me."

"With this sincerity and these conditions, who wouldn't be tempted?"

"But the downsides..."

He smiled bitterly, "Public opinion. Domestic public opinion. 'Forgetting one's roots,' 'traitor,' 'abandoning one's ancestors for money and a future'... I might really have to carry these insults for the rest of my life. Even if I play well and win many championships for England, in the eyes of some people, I will always be a 'traitor'."

"And..."

His voice lowered, "That five-star red flag... that dream I've had for ten years... can I really... let it go so easily?"

That night, Yu Bai said a lot and drank a lot.

He bared his deepest contradictions, fears, desires, and unwillingness to Wen Wan without reservation.

He was no longer the omnipotent Director Yu on the field, no longer the "genius" who signed a sky-high contract, and no longer the "grandson" who pretended to be mature and steady in front of his grandfather.

He was just a 17-year-old boy carrying huge pressure and choices, full of struggle and pain inside.

Wen Wan listened quietly, rarely interrupting, only handing him the glass or gently patting the back of his hand when he needed it. But her heart sank and tightened with every word he said, every pause, and every painful look.

She felt his pain but couldn't share it for him, and this sense of powerlessness made her feel even worse.

So, for every half glass Yu Bai drank, she drank one or even two. It was as if by drinking more, she could help him share a little more of the bitterness in his heart.

As a result, both people, who were under immense pressure, got drunk under the dual influence of alcohol and pouring their hearts out.

...

The next morning.

Yu Bai woke up with a hangover headache and a strange, soft sensation.

He struggled to open his heavy eyelids. What came into view was a light beige bed canopy with exquisite embroidery. The tip of his nose was filled with a faint, pleasant, sweet, and warm floral and fruity scent—it was the perfume Wen Wan often used, mixed with her unique body scent.

He suddenly sobered up a bit and turned his head stiffly...

Oh no!

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