Chapter 7

At six-thirty in the morning, Jiang Yihao rose on schedule.

Outsiders assumed that the heir to the Earl of Talun must live a life of endless revelry and excess, but in reality, his lifestyle was extremely simple and monotonous.

Every morning, he swam for half an hour to wake up his body, downed a specially formulated nutritional drink, drove to the club's training base for breakfast, ran professional training, and then rushed back to school before class—365 days a year, every single day.

As a professional footballer, Jiang Yihao adhered to a strict diet. The team had dedicated chefs and nutritionists responsible for his three meals a day. Whether at the club or at home, he only ate light, low-oil, low-salt healthy food.

Jiang Yihao had taken his two best friends, Bu Chen and Bai Xingmiao, to experience his daily meals. Bu Chen joked that even a monk's food had more flavor; his other friend didn't say anything, but being a man of few words and little interest in food, he too didn't take an extra bite.

Jiang Yihao didn't care. He enjoyed the strict life of giving up all pleasures for football, and at private gatherings, he demanded everyone be disciplined and diet with him. Over time, friends stopped inviting him out to eat.

After changing clothes and donning the cap and mask he always wore when going out, Jiang Yihao walked into the garage. Luxury cars of various brands lined up neatly like toys, and from the corner, he picked out an inconspicuous secondhand electric car, inserted the key, and set off.

The drive from Sky Tower to the training base took over an hour. Unable to bear solitude, Jiang Yihao would randomly select a lucky audience member to chat with until he reached the club.

Yesterday he'd already called the captain, so today he'd pick Lao Fang, RQ Talun's football director.

"You're it."

Jiang Yihao commanded his phone to dial.

The phone rang twice before being quickly picked up. Somewhat surprised, Jiang Yihao frowned and said, "Hey, Lao Fang, why aren't you asleep yet?"

The earpiece was filled with loud, grating party background noise, and a deep male voice in his fifties coughed a few times.

"What are you up to now? I'm with a client. If something's up, go to Amei."

Lao Fang's tone was slightly drunk, clearly having had too much tonight.

"How dare you talk to me like that? You know the league starts next month, right?!" Jiang Yihao's chest heaved with agitation; he wanted to drag them all back right now.

At thirteen, under the alias Zhang Hao, he'd entered the youth training camp and got along with everyone up and down the team. From the owner to the bus driver, they all treated him like their own son, so he felt emboldened to speak his mind.

Last season, RQ had inexplicably dropped to ninth in the league, their worst record in a decade. Fans had been ranting, and Jiang Yihao had joined in for six months.

At the beginning of the year, he'd been promoted to the first team. While elated, he'd been itching for revenge. And with the new season delayed a month due to the pandemic, it was the perfect time to train hard and wipe off the shame. But just before the season, Lao Fang had taken a group of starters to Country C for a tour.

Jiang Yihao's fury surged. What was the point of skipping warm-up matches to make money? Were they planning to lose 0:4 or 0:3 again this year?!

Lao Fang had anticipated Jiang Yihao's displeasure and calmly absorbed his outburst: "What's all that yelling about? Calm down, kid. You know the club's financial situation. Don't throw a tantrum."

"What do you mean tantrum? I've got a bone to pick with you!"

Jiang Yihao was seething just thinking about it.

He knew the club had been running a severe deficit in recent years, cutting wherever possible to save costs. He hadn't expected the belt-tightening to reach his own meals.

Jiang Yihao couldn't figure out how he, who barely even ate salt, had gotten dosed with something that night. Then he'd discovered it was the logistics department's doing.

To save money, they'd swapped his specially supplied nutritional supplements for cheaper alternatives. Unbeknownst to him, Jiang Yihao had mixed them with his usual homemade blend, and the combination had gone horribly wrong.

"You'd better switch those supplements back immediately!"

"The new ones are fine. Just deal with them."

"Fine, my ass. They nearly killed me."

"Tell me what happened, clearly." At the mention of Jiang Yihao's safety, Lao Fang sobered up instantly, his professional demeanor returning as he pressed further. "What's the situation? Speak. What happened? Why didn't anyone report it to me?"

"..."

Jiang Yihao was at a loss for words, embarrassed by the absurdity of that night. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Just switch them back when I tell you. When are you coming back?"

"Read the announcement yourself." Lao Fang's tone was resolute; as a professional manager, he wouldn't change the whole plan for one player. "If I don't make some money, the whole team will have nothing to eat."

Jiang Yihao scoffed at the repeated poverty talk.

The car reached a crossroads and caught a red light. Jiang Yihao engaged the brake and asked impatiently, "How much is missing? Name your figure."

"Bold words," Lao Fang laughed heartily. "Just because others call you 'Little Boss' doesn't mean you're the real boss."

At the words "Little Boss," the tension in Jiang Yihao's lips eased, a faint smugness flashing across his face. In his years at RQ, he'd collected a lot of nicknames, but Little Boss was his favorite.

He spent most of his time around the team, sticking his nose into all sorts of matters. At some point, the nickname "Little Boss" had spread among the team, and even the owner used it.

Lao Fang listed a few items casually and chuckled: "Turf maintenance, payroll, stadium upkeep, public relations, youth training fees—which of those can you afford?"

"Hey, I actually—" Jiang Yihao nearly blurted it out but hastily clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't reveal his hand in a moment of impulse.

If his identity came out, leaving aside his family, with Lao Fang's cautious nature, he might be the first to get kicked out.

Lao Fang chattered on from the other end: "Don't worry about the money. Anyway, the brothers are touring for the team, and for you. You just train hard and study in peace. I'll handle everything..."

Jiang Yihao ignored him, switching to the small phone screen and logging into his transfer account to anonymously donate 500,000 to the team. All the talk in the world was less effective than direct cash. As he pressed the confirmation button, he said leisurely, "But other clubs have already warmed up. Aren't you a little worried, boss?"

Lao Fang was annoyed that his long speech had been wasted. "Without money, who's going to play? Who's going to get paid? Did you finish your training today?"

That remark, meant to shut him up, triggered Jiang Yihao's value system. He didn't care if people scolded or hated him; for the team, he'd speak the truth even if it made enemies.

"What place did RQ end up in last season? As director, aren't you the least bit anxious? How can players perform well without proper rest? Do you know what they're saying about us out there?"

Jiang Yihao's words hit Lao Fang where it hurt. "How are you talking? Don't let your talent go to your head! As long as I'm here, the criticism won't reach you. Stop worrying about things that don't matter."

"Especially you. You need to seize your opportunity. How many prime years does a player have? You're not some rich second-generation heir. Focus on football and don't bother with anything else, got it?"

"You're one of us, raised by RQ through and through. Don't let us down..."

Lao Fang hung up decisively. Having been chewed out, Jiang Yihao, furious, slammed his fist on the steering wheel, and the horn blared sharply.

He'd only been trying to offer a well-meaning reminder, and instead he got scolded. All those years of donating money to the club had become a joke.

Jiang Yihao could rightfully claim the title of "Little Boss" not just because he'd enthusiastically contributed to the club's affairs; behind the scenes, he'd secretly transferred considerable sums to help the team out of tight spots. RQ's fans spanned the globe, including celebrities and politicians, and no one suspected the anonymous donations appearing in the accounts. Bu Chen joked that he was playing football at a loss; Jiang Yihao corrected him by saying it was "recharging his faith," which outsiders couldn't understand.

Besides, his money truly was beyond counting.

Perhaps drawn together by the same spirit, his two brothers had also carved their own paths since childhood, starting early to make money and gain independence. Even if Jiang Yihao stayed home all day doing nothing, mountains of gold and silver still rolled in.

Bu Chen, sharp-witted and socially adept, had started a few companies on a whim before coming of age. Jiang Yihao had thrown in a bit of money then to support his friend, never imagining it would turn him into a founding shareholder of an emerging listed company.

The market value had shot up like a rocket, and Jiang Yihao's wealth ballooned with it, giving him the confidence to not care what his family thought. Bu Chen joked that even if he were kicked out of the house one day, those shares alone would keep him living high for the rest of his life.

Bai Xingmiao, a science prodigy, managed several funds privately. Jiang Yihao entrusted all his money to him; the math genius's mind earned money faster than a printing press. Within a few years, Jiang Yihao's accounts gushed cash like a money god possessed. Even if he spent his balance into the negative, it would grow back on its own in no time.

Jiang Yihao never seriously counted how much Bai Xingmiao had earned for him; he only knew the funds had stopped accepting outside investors years ago. Outsiders were envious, pounding their chests for missing the money train.

So Jiang Yihao never checked his account balance. If he was in a good mood, he'd send a sum of money as casually as picking up a coin. The team, in bits and pieces, was his largest beneficiary.

Jiang Yihao had originally wanted to send a few more red envelopes, but Lao Fang's indiscriminate scolding had doused his enthusiasm. Now he didn't want to spend a cent.

A ding announced a text message.

Angry, Jiang Yihao turned his head away without looking.

Then he remembered that his personal assistant had been searching for the girl from the lounge recently. Given the timeline, there should be news by now. Maybe it was from the assistant.

Jiang Yihao's anger vanished in a second. He glanced at the screen nervously.

Before the brooch had been damaged, he'd wanted to see her in person as soon as possible. Now he both hoped to find her quickly and feared facing her, unsure what to say.

The message was from Lao Fang.

A flicker of disappointment passed through Jiang Yihao, along with a hint of relief. He squinted and swiped the screen.

[Just signed a contract. The supplements have been switched back via Amei.]

Hmph.

Jiang Yihao dismissed the message and made a turn.

Traffic was smooth today; he reached the training center before 8:30.

Despite RQ's declining results in recent years, loyal fans still flooded in from all over the world every day, camping outside the gates overnight to cheer for their idols.

As Jiang Yihao drove in, fans who had been waiting all night stood up, waving and cheering. But today, security guards seemed a bit odd—they weren't letting anyone inside. Athletes' senses are keener than ordinary people's, and Jiang Yihao noticed something unusual within, speeding up.

The moment he entered, a foul stench hit him. Seeing the pile of garbage in the middle of the lobby, he instantly bristled with rage. The staff, surprised and delighted to see Jiang Yihao appear out of nowhere, exclaimed, "Little Boss! You're here!"

With a stern expression, Jiang Yihao shielded the frail staff member behind him. Though happy, everyone felt a twinge of worry.

Everyone at the club knew the Little Boss was strong and could handle himself; no one usually dared mess with him. With him taking the lead, their worries eased. At the same time, the Little Boss was universally acknowledged as RQ's future star and the team's top priority. If anything happened to him, they'd all be fired, and that wouldn't be enough responsibility.

A staff member pulled Jiang Yihao aside and said nervously, "Little Boss, you're the club's core asset. You can't take any risks. Don't get involved. Leave it to us."

Pointing at the filthy lobby, Jiang Yihao raged.

"They've walked right over us. How can we not get involved?"

"The team's on leave, the others on tour—they deliberately picked a time when RQ's unguarded, didn't they?"

Bags of trash were piled against the wall, directly below RQ's great black-and-green framed wolf-head logo. When had the club ever suffered such humiliation? If he didn't act, was he even an RQ man?

A staff member tried to soothe him: "Calm down first. Manager Mei has already called a professional cleaning company. She said they're on the way and told us not to touch anything."

"Not touch anything? And let them hang around for the tabloids to write nonsense?"

The portly leader of the protesters, after watching Jiang Yihao and the staff squabble for a while without understanding what was going on, cut in harshly: "Where's your boss? Tell him to come out and pay up!"

As if on cue, the people behind him raised their fists and shouted, "Pay up! Pay up! RQ, pay up!"

Jiang Yihao looked momentarily puzzled. "Pay what?"