Football Card System

The tavern door creaked open, letting in a chilly draft as a blond man in a brown felt coat stepped inside. He glanced around the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the empty whiskey bottles in front of Gao Bo. He strode over and sat down across from him.

"I love scotch..." the man said, breaking the silence.

Gao Bo raised his eyes briefly to look at the man but had no interest in engaging. If it had been a beautiful woman, perhaps he might have entertained a conversation.

"My name is Morton. David Morton!" the man introduced himself cheerfully, signaling the bartender for a bottle of whiskey.

"Oh... good stuff," Morton said after taking a sip, savoring the drink. "Mind if I sit here? It's hard to find a place with some space tonight."

Gao Bo said nothing. He just wanted to enjoy his drink in peace and figure out his next steps. His savings were dwindling—he'd counted his money earlier: £789, including the loose change in his pocket. The years he'd spent studying in England had drained most of his finances. Even though his salary at Chelsea had been decent, much of it had gone toward repaying student loans. If he didn't find a job soon, he'd burn through the rest quickly.

Should he continue as a football coach?

"Coach Gao Bo, how did you know Chelsea was going to score?" Fat Kenny suddenly pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

"Intuition," Gao Bo replied curtly, not in the mood for conversation.

"Amazing!" Kenny's eyes sparkled. "Great coaches always have sharp intuition. They say even Mourinho predicts goals with his instincts!"

"As expected from the coach who led Chelsea U18 to victory in the Youth Cup!" Kenny exclaimed, his enthusiasm causing his belly to press against the table.

"Are you a football coach?" Morton interjected, clearly intrigued.

"Of course! Gao Bo is incredible. I have a feeling he's going to be the next Mourinho!" Kenny gushed, recounting Gao Bo's achievements.

Morton looked skeptical. "You were Chelsea U18's coach?"

"Former coach," Gao Bo corrected sharply.

Morton seemed slightly embarrassed but pressed on. "Mr. Gao Bo, I'm David Morton, the owner of an English League Two team."

Gao Bo glanced at the man, his skepticism evident. A team owner drinking in a shabby bar like this?

Morton seemed to sense his doubt and smiled sheepishly. "I own... Luton Town."

Ah.

Gao Bo nodded. Luton Town—a team recently relegated from League One and slapped with a 30-point deduction due to financial issues.

"Relegated from League One, and docked 30 points?" Gao Bo asked, recalling the news.

Morton nodded. The team was in shambles. Most of the key players had left because they weren't being paid, and the head coach position had been vacant since the end of the previous season. No reputable coach wanted to take over a sinking ship like Luton.

Morton saw potential in Gao Bo. A coach who had led Chelsea U18 to win the FA Youth Cup could be the solution to Luton's problems.

"I've cleared the team's debts," Morton said. "The only issue now is the 30-point penalty... and the roster. We'll have to rely on reserve and youth players, with only two or three first-team players remaining." His voice trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

Gao Bo remained silent, weighing his options. Coaching in League Two wasn't ideal, but it was still an opportunity. However, this was a critical career decision, and he couldn't afford to be reckless.

Seeing Gao Bo's hesitation, Morton sighed and stood up. "I know it's a tough ask. Not many good coaches are willing to take on a mess like Luton. I apologize for being presumptuous." He downed his drink and turned to leave.

"My salary at Chelsea was £7,000 a week!" Gao Bo called out.

"Eight thousand!" Morton turned back, his face lighting up with hope.

"Deal!" Gao Bo raised his glass, grinning at his new boss.