100: candlelight dinner

The night in Durham was fragmented into soft pieces by the candlelight of the Michelin restaurant.

Outside the window, the cathedral, which had slept for a thousand years, stood solemn and majestic, like the gaze of a deity.

Inside the window were Lin Feng and Sophie Green.

The air was filled with the low strains of a cello, mingled with the rich aroma of top-tier red wine after it had opened up.

The atmosphere was as perfect as a precisely calculated mathematical formula.

Sophie had clearly prepared meticulously for today.

A well-tailored dark blue dress encased her graceful figure, shedding the usual competence and sharpness of a sports reporter, settling into a reassuring softness.

Her hair was lightly curled, gleaming with a warm luster in the candlelight.

"I thought you'd choose a private box overlooking the stadium."

Sophie swirled the Burgundy red wine in her glass; the liquid clung to the sides in elegant arcs, like a perfect shot in slow motion.

There was a hint of teasing in her voice.

"That would be too much like a business negotiation."

Lin Feng cut into the Wellington steak on his plate, the pastry making a crisp sound.

"And today, I don't want to talk about work."

His gaze was frank and direct, as if observing an opponent's opening formation, searching for exploitable gaps.

Sophie met his gaze, not flinching.

As a reporter, she was accustomed to scrutinizing and being scrutinized.

But this time, she felt she wasn't facing an interviewee, but a calm, bottomless lake.

You throw a stone in, but hear no echo, only ripples spreading out, yet entirely under control.

"Alright, Boss Lin."

She put down her wine glass and leaned forward slightly.

"Since we're not talking about work, what shall we talk about?"

"Your past? Your secrets? Or your Midas-touch business acumen?"

Her questions were like a series of quick short passes, trying to tear open Lin Feng's seemingly casual defense.

Lin Feng smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

His movements were elegant and unhurried, as if he had already anticipated all her lines of attack.

"Do you believe that one of my greatest fears as a child was accompanying my grandmother to the wet market?"

His opening remark completely caught Sophie off guard.

This was a scene full of everyday life, completely unrelated to labels like 'business magnate' or 'football tycoon'.

Sophie's curiosity was piqued; she didn't speak, just gestured with her eyes for him to continue.

"She could chat with a vendor about everything from England's gloomy weather to the neighbor's fat cat named 'Duke' scratching someone's garden again, all for a single spring onion."

Lin Feng's voice was soft, imbued with the warmth of memory.

"In the end, the vendor would always, helplessly and willingly, give her two extra, and even throw in a head of garlic."

"I used to stand there, so embarrassed I wanted to find a hole to crawl into, thinking my grandmother was utterly wasting her life."

He paused, picked up his wine glass, and took a small sip.

"Looking back now, I understand."

"That wasn't being petty."

"That was a kind of wisdom."

"A wisdom of not living life as a cold formula."

He tossed out this story like an experienced midfield maestro delivering a seemingly casual yet deceptively incisive through ball.

He was disarming Sophie in the gentlest way possible.

He was actively exposing a 'weakness,' a human-interest past, to gain her trust.

Sophie was touched by the story.

She couldn't help but laugh, her laughter clear, as if breaking the restaurant's overly elegant silence.

"I completely understand."

She nodded empathetically.

"The reason I plunged into sports journalism, a male-dominated industry, abandoning a more stable and respectable job in the financial district..."

Her gaze drifted to the window, as if looking at the ancient cathedral, or perhaps at the path she had once walked.

"It was because I didn't want to live a formulaic life."

"Wearing the same suit every day, staring at the same reports, saying the same things, even the flavor of my lunch sandwich remained unchanged."

"But sometimes, reality is truly... disheartening."

Her tone lowered.

She recalled how, when she first started, to interview that famous superstar, she locked herself in the archives for half a month.

She studied all his match footage, read all his interviews, and even found the contact information of his youth coach.

Her interview outline was as thick as a novel.

What she wanted to ask wasn't the tired old gossip, but his emotional journey after a crucial loss, his dreams of playing street football as a boy.

She wanted to write about a real, flesh-and-blood person.

However, throughout the interview, the superstar recited standard answers prepared by his PR team.

His eyes were vacant, his smile standard, every word seemed printed from a production line.

"That feeling..."

Sophie's voice was a little hoarse.

"It's like you've poured your heart into preparing a unique gift for someone, carefully presenting it to him."

"But the other person can't even be bothered to unwrap it, merely offering a formulaic 'thank you'."

Lin Feng didn't interrupt her, nor did he offer any words of comfort.

He just listened quietly, like the most patient listener.

His gaze was focused, giving her the respect she most needed.

After she finished speaking, a brief silence fell over the restaurant, with only the background music gently flowing.

"Your greatest advantage isn't in digging up scandals that have already been over-reported by others."

Lin Feng finally spoke, his voice calm, yet with an undeniable penetration.

"It's your perspective."

"When we eliminated Leeds United in the League Cup, almost all media headlines after the match focused on Vardy's brace."

"Only your article used a small paragraph to mention that Old John changed his position on the sidelines three times in the second half."

Sophie's pupils slightly contracted.

That was an extremely subtle detail; she had written it down merely out of a professional instinct to record.

She hadn't expected Lin Feng to notice it.

"The first time, he moved from in front of the dugout to the very edge of the technical area, that was when the opponent intensified their flank attacks."

"The second time, he retreated to the dugout, that was after we took the lead and needed to solidify our formation."

"The third time, he walked back to the sidelines, that was just before we were about to launch a deadly counter-attack."

Lin Feng's voice, like a precise analytical instrument, clearly replayed details she herself had almost forgotten.

"What you see is the B-side of the game that others don't."

"You see the tactical interplay, you see the communication of the coach's intentions, you see the things beyond win or loss that truly dictate the direction of the game."

He put down his knife and fork, leaned forward slightly, and looked directly into Sophie's eyes.

"Keep going, Sophie."

He called her by her name for the first time.

"This unique perspective will become your most valuable, one-of-a-kind label in the future."

His words weren't just empty encouragement.

They were more like a highly valuable business assessment report from a top investor.

He saw through her talent, affirmed her persistence, and, in an almost prophetic way, indicated her future value.

Sophie's heartbeat skipped a beat.

She felt completely seen through.

That feeling was like a player's every run, pass, and even feint on the field being clearly scanned by the opponent's "Player Radar" system.

Nowhere to hide.

But, there was also a strange sense of satisfaction, of being completely understood and respected.

The atmosphere, at this moment, quietly warmed.

The candlelight flickered, elongating and intertwining their shadows.

A dangerous yet captivating chemical scent permeated the air.

When both reached for the elegantly designed glass water pitcher on the table almost simultaneously, their fingertips brushed against each other on the cool surface of the bottle.

It was as if a faint electric current instantly spread through their entire bodies from the point of contact.

Time, at this moment, slowed infinitely.

A knowing glance.

All surrounding sounds, lights, faded into a blurry background.

The entire world was left with only the flickering, bright flame in the other's eyes.

The ambiguous atmosphere, like a volcano about to erupt, accumulated hot magma underground.

Just as this intense stillness was about to be broken by some impulse.

At the other end of the restaurant, the LCD television hanging above the bar silently switched channels.

It jumped from a dull cricket match to Sky Sports News.

A rapid and sensational background music started, followed by a blonde female anchor, reporting the latest entertainment headlines with an exaggerated tone.

"Breaking news!"

"Hollywood sweetheart, international film star Keira Knightley, was spotted on the streets of Los Angeles today!"

"And an accessory around her neck has sparked frantic speculation worldwide!"

The screen then changed.

A magnified, extremely high-definition street photo filled the entire screen.

Under the bright Los Angeles sun, Keira Knightley walked with her head held high down Rodeo Drive.

She wore oversized Chanel sunglasses, covering most of her face, but her iconic smile, with a hint of stubbornness and sexiness, was highly recognizable.

However, what drew everyone's attention was not her superstar aura.

It was the blue and white football club scarf around her neck, which seemed somewhat out of place with her designer outfit.

The style of the scarf, the coarse knitting, the slightly crude anchor team crest embroidered in the center... Sophie's breath hitched.

She was all too familiar with that scarf.

She had an identical one in her own car.

It was the most common fan souvenir, sold for £9.99 at the Hartlepool United club shop.

The news anchor's voice continued, filled with gossip fervor.

"According to our fashion experts, this scarf comes from an obscure lower-League English team—Hartlepool United!"

"And Keira herself has repeatedly mentioned her strong interest in English football in recent interviews with Vanity Fair!"

"She particularly admires a 'magical team' from the North, finding their story full of 'dramatic charm'!"

"Is Keira using a special way to officially announce her new relationship? And is that mysterious lover connected to this magical Northern team?"

"Fans worldwide are waiting for answers!"

In the restaurant, several guests at a nearby table had already started whispering, occasionally casting curious glances towards Lin Feng.

The ambiguous and enchanting atmosphere from moments ago was shattered by this bombshell from out of nowhere.

The air was filled with an incredibly subtle, yet incredibly awkward silence.

Lin Feng's expression remained as calm as still water.

His eyes showed not even a ripple, as if the woman on the screen, who had stirred up a global entertainment storm, was just an irrelevant stranger.

But deep within his mind, the blue system interface that only he could see instantly refreshed with a new message.

【Market Analysis Module Alert: Major public opinion event detected.】

【Associated Person: Keira Knightley.】

【Event Impact: Hartlepool United Club's global visibility is projected to increase by 700% within 24 hours, and brand's potential commercial value will significantly grow.】

【System Recommendation: Utilize this event for positive public relations to maximize commercial value.】

A cold glint, unnoticed by anyone, flashed in Lin Feng's eyes.

What a Keira Knightley.

This was clearly not a spontaneous declaration of affection.

This was a transatlantic, precise, and provocatively tactical declaration.

She chose not to contact him privately, but to directly ignite public opinion.

She used the most high-profile, undeniable method to declare her existence and her unmasked, strong desire for conquest to everyone, especially to the woman across the table.

This was a chess move.

A move that checkmated all his retreats.

Sophie slowly shifted her gaze from the television screen back to Lin Feng's face.

There was no anger, no jealousy, not even a hint of discomposure on her face.

After the initial shock, her keenness and calmness, characteristic of a top journalist, quickly took over.

She saw the immense value behind this news.

She also saw that the man sitting across from her had already stirred up more than just the world of English football.

But at the same time, as a woman, she also clearly felt that aggressive challenge from distant Hollywood.

She elegantly picked up her wine glass, her fingertips gently caressing the cool surface.

The warmth generated by their earlier touch had long since vanished.

She looked up, meeting Lin Feng's deep gaze.

A meaningful, slightly dangerous smile played on her lips.

That smile was like a sharp dagger sheathed.

"It seems..."

She spoke softly, her voice not loud, but clearly cutting through all the background noise in the restaurant.

"Boss Lin's business empire has quietly expanded to Hollywood?"

She paused, and without waiting for Lin Feng to answer, posed a second question.

Her eyes grew sharper, as if examining a crucial piece of evidence.

"Or is Miss Knightley also deeply interested in the 'formulaic life' dilemma I just mentioned?"

"Or perhaps..."

Her voice dropped even lower, carrying a hint of mockery that only the two of them would understand.

"She simply appreciates your grandmother's wisdom of 'not living life as a formula'?"