The loud noise stimulated the nerves in the brain, the decibels so loud that it could cause deafness. A glaring white light shot into his eyes, and his temples throbbed in pain.
Tang En could not help but squint his eyes, but the white light did not disappear. Instead, it spread throughout the world.
What the hell is going on? Am I at a rock concert?
Tang En cursed in his heart as he opened his eyes. What he saw was a terrifyingly large face. It was a black face covered in sweat, and the hot air coming from the two black holes under the wide nostrils seemed to have touched his face. The white teeth in the wide mouth were as terrifying as those of wild animals. Of course, there was also the foul breath coming from it.
What followed was an intense head-on collision. Tang En felt as if he had been punched in the chin, and his whole body fell backward.
Crash! They knocked over a box of water bottles behind them. The weight of two people pressed on the poor plastic bottles, and they could not bear the pressure and collapsed. White water splashed out, and there was even a column of water that shot out from one of the bottles, directly hitting the "fish in the pond" at the back. The other "fish in the pond" flew up into the sky like startled sparrows.
"Damn it!"
"What the hell is going on?!"
"What's going on?!"
"Team doctor, team doctor!"
"How did you kick him?"
"I was pushed here by that damn number 14 … I didn't mean it …"
Tang En lay on the ground, staring blankly at the unfamiliar faces surrounding him. Some of them looked anxious, some were gloating, and some were covering their faces so that he could not see their expressions. The surroundings were still very noisy, but the loud noise had changed its tone. There were boos and laughter in it.
Where is this? Who are they? What's going on?
"Oh, oh! Wait, let's see what's happening on the sidelines. " The commentator on the live broadcast suddenly became excited. He stood up and looked down from the top of the stands. "Forest's main striker, David Johnson, was knocked to the technical area on the sidelines during a fight with an opposing player. Poor Manager Tony Twain happened to be standing on the sidelines directing the game … Oh! Look at the tragic scene on the ground. This is really a collision of Mars colliding with Earth! This is much more interesting than a boring competition! "
Twain lay on the ground. His light gray suit was drenched and crumpled with grass and mud. It looked like a rag that had just been used.
A big-nosed, black-bearded man who looked like Super Mario appeared in his field of vision. He swiftly took out a pair of white gloves from the leather bag he carried with him and put them on. Then, he began to examine Tang En's body.
"Is there any obvious pain in your ribs?" He pressed his hands on Tang En's chest and pressed down hard. "Chin … hmm, a little bruised. Are your teeth loose?" He pried open Tang En's mouth again and tilted his head to observe. Although his mouth kept asking questions, he obviously did not expect to get an answer. These were just his habit of talking to himself. "Then … the eyes." His gaze fell on Tang En's eyes, and he found a problem: Tang En's eyeballs did not seem to move, and his eyelids did not blink once. Furthermore, his expression was lifeless. He did not frown, nor did he cry out in pain. He was as silent as a dead man …
Dead people!
Damn it, it looks like he hit the back of his head!
"Hey, Tony, Tony? Can you hear me? "He stretched out his hand and waved it in front of Tang En's eyes. His tone was clearly more anxious than before.
Tang En's eyeballs finally moved. He focused his gaze on the man's face. It was unfamiliar, but also somewhat familiar …
"The referee blew his whistle to pause the match. He ran to the sidelines … I've been commentating for thirty-one years, and this is the first time I've seen a manager get hurt by his own players! I bet Manager Tony Twain will definitely become a news figure, even if he himself might not like to become famous in this way … "The BBC commentator, John Motson, continued his incessant chatter. "Forest is really unlucky. The team is trailing by two goals, and now their acting manager, Tony Twain, has been hurt by his own players. You have to know, this is their home ground! Their home ground! "
At the same time, the television screen began to replay the scene from earlier. David Johansson was pushed hard by the opposing number 14 during an intense scramble. Following which, the tanned man charged diagonally toward Tony Twain, who was standing at the sidelines. But the strange thing was that Tang En could have dodged it. He had plenty of time, but now he was standing at the sidelines like a puppet, watching helplessly as his own team member crashed into him. Then came the scene that made the commentator want to squint his eyes, turn his head away, and say, "Oh, God!"
Forest's players anxiously surrounded the technical area. Naturally, the center of the crowd was Tang En, who was lying on the ground. The black striker, David Johansson, who had made a mistake, knelt on the ground and prayed incessantly. If anything happened to his own manager, he would become the first player to kill his own manager on the field.
Unlike the nervousness of Forest's players, most of their opponents stood in the field, watching the show with their arms crossed. There were also curious people who took on the role of the team's scout, constantly running over to watch the commotion, and then running back to share the situation in the crowd with their teammates.
The Forest fans in the stands did not seem to be worried about their manager's life or death. They took the opportunity to loudly curse at their own team's poor performance. All sorts of words starting with "F" or "S" burst out from their mouths, and countless raised middle fingers made the "0: 2" on the big screen look particularly glaring.
Forest's team doctor, Gary Fleming, was still doing his best. He clearly saw Tony's eyeballs move a little, but why did there be no reaction after that?
He patted Tony Twain's face, but there was still no reaction. The team's acting manager lay on the ground like a wax figure, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, as if he had seen something very shocking.
The blue sky, the white clouds that were like cotton candy, the different skin colors and expressions on the faces, and the noisy environment. All of this was very familiar, yet so strange, as if it was thousands of miles away from him.
This … What the f * ck is going on?!
The referee gestured to the team doctor to handle it himself. He could not endlessly stop the game because of the injuries outside the field. He whistled for the players to return to the field. The game still had to continue, even though the Forest players were no longer in the mood to continue fighting.
"But his life might even be in danger!" Fleming was furious at the referee's indifference. He pointed at Twain, who was still lying on the ground, and roared at the referee.
"Then call an ambulance. I'm just the referee!" The referee retorted without showing any weakness. "And he doesn't look as dangerous as you say." He pointed behind Fleming, and then ran back to the field.
Fleming turned back and saw Twain slowly stand up while rubbing the back of his head. He hurriedly went up to support him. "How do you feel, Tony?"
Twain asked blankly, "Where am I?"
Fleming turned around and cursed. He had been really unlucky recently. "Des, Des, come here!" He waved to a blond man in the technical area to come over.
The man called "Des" ran over. "How's Tony?" he asked softly.
"Terrible. He even asked me where we are just now. "
Des's reaction was the same as Fleming's earlier. He also turned his head and cursed.
"I suspect this is the result of him hitting the back of his head when he fell to the ground just now."
"Is the situation very bad, Gary?" Des bit his lip, his expression grave.
"I don't know. Maybe it's good, maybe it's bad." Fleming shook his head.
"What do you mean?"
"The best case scenario is that he only loses his memory temporarily. He'll recover after some rest. The worst case scenario … Do you still need me to say it? "
Des waved his hand, indicating that he understood. "Then what do you think we should do now? Send him to the hospital? But the game is still going on, and we're behind. We need him to direct the game … "As he spoke, he turned his head to look at Tony Twain beside him. But he was shocked to find Twain slowly moving towards the players' tunnel alone.
"Hey!" Des hurriedly left Fleming and ran forward to pull his colleague back. "Tony, where are you going?" In the noisy environment, Des's brandishing claws and shouting actually only had the effect of "whispering."
Tang En turned his head to look at Des blankly. The look in his eyes made Des's heart turn cold. Right now, the golden afterglow of the setting sun above their heads shone brilliantly, but he could not see any light flowing in those eyes.
"Tony, where are you going?" Des repeated.
"I … I don't know. Maybe … I'm going home …" Tang En mumbled, still trying to break free from Des's grip.
Fleming also ran over from the side. "Tony, you can't go home right now. We're in a match, and you're the manager. You have to direct the team! "
The three men's tug at the tunnel entrance attracted the attention of the substitutes from both teams, as well as the stands. Even the players on the field would occasionally glance over.
Tang En suddenly laughed. "I'm the manager?" This is ridiculous. How can I be the manager? Although I'm a fan and often play Football Manager, how can I be the manager? This must be a dream, and a goddamn nightmare at that! "Alright … Alright, you're …" He looked at Des as he spoke.
Fleming introduced the two of them as if they were meeting for the first time. "He's Des, Des Walker. He's a former England international who plays as a center back. He only retired from the team last season. Now, he's your colleague and your assistant. "
Tang En nodded, then said to Des, "Alright, you'll be directing the match on my behalf now. I'm going to rest." With that, he broke free from Des's grip and walked into the tunnel, ignoring the loud boos and the two dumbfounded people behind him.
Fleming looked at Tang En's back, then looked at Des Walker.
Walker sighed heavily, turned around, and walked back. "This match can't be played anymore!"
Tang En sat in the tunnel with his back against the wall, blankly looking at his surroundings. On the white wall opposite him was a huge logo. Below the big red "mushroom" were three wavy lines, and below it was the English word: Forest.
Where am I now? What's going on? I just drank a little too much, got into a fight with two brats, and got ambushed. Then … How did I end up here? Looking at those people outside with high noses and blue eyes, who speak in bird's language, was I dreaming? Or was I watching a movie?
Tang En touched the back of his head, which still hurt faintly.
Damn it, ambushed me, hit me from behind!
He bared his teeth and cursed.
He was originally a football fan who liked to drink a little when he had nothing to do and watch matches in crowded places, such as a bar. Recently, his favorite team had not won in a row, either with a draw or a loss. He was already in a bad mood, so he was agitated by the two opposing fans. With the alcohol and anger, the two sides came to blows. He was one against two, but he was not afraid. Helpless, the other side played dirty. One was in front to attract his attention, while the other sneaked around to his back and gave him a shock.
Then, he opened his eyes to find himself in a noisy environment, and was knocked to the ground by a black man. The others were speaking in a language he did not understand. He could understand every word they said, but he could not understand their meaning. He felt as if his brain had been torn apart and split into two parts. One part was familiar with the environment, and the other part was at a loss and uneasy.
"What's my name?" He muttered to himself, but suddenly covered his mouth. It was only then that he realized he had been speaking in bird's language — English.
"Damn it, what's going on?" This time, it was his native dialect again.
Tang En was going crazy. He found that there seemed to be two completely different thoughts in his mind. One moment, he believed that he was an Englishman named "Tony Twain," and the next moment, he thought that he was a Sichuan man named "Tang`En" from China.
He banged against the wall hard, and finally calmed his feverish mind a little. He began to close his eyes and search carefully. Then he found himself in a football field, the City Ground. At this time, the game that was going on outside was an ordinary English First Division game. Nottingham Forest, which was coached by him, was up against Walsall.
Tang En, who finally understood where he was, was stunned once again. It was too unbelievable, so much so that his brain stopped responding after being overloaded with calculations. He sat paralyzed in the players' tunnel, facing the emblem of Nottingham Forest. Loud boos rang out from outside. And all of this seemed to have nothing to do with him.
"… The above is what happened in the City Ground this afternoon. Forest's acting manager, Tony Twain, was knocked down by his team member while standing on the sidelines. He then seemed to fall into a temporary coma. When he got up again, he walked straight into the players' tunnel. Des Walker took his place to direct the rest of the match and attended the press conference. But during the press conference, Manager Walker refused to reveal anything about Manager Tony Twain. "
Where was Tang En at the moment?
He was in his own home, fighting with the mirror.
Compared to the bright lights and laughter of the surrounding neighbors, Tony Twain's home was as gloomy as a ghost castle. It was eight o 'clock at night, and it was still dark. Not a single light was turned on. Tang En stood in the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror with the dim light from the street lamps outside. He was a middle-aged Japanese man with a tall nose bridge, deep eye sockets, blue pupils, and slightly curly brown hair.
In reality, Twain, who came from Sichuan, China, was only 26 years old. At this moment, the person in the mirror even had forehead wrinkles! 34 years old! This was Tony Twain's age. Before this, Tang En had already been forced to accept another fact: it was not 2007, when he fought with others, but 2003, January 1st, 2003. The price for him to accept this fact was the New Year's calendar printed with the Nottingham Forest team's 2002-03 season photo that was torn to pieces.
Not only had he inexplicably possessed an Englishman, but he had also traveled forward four years and three months!
Although he had never felt that he was handsome enough to attract the attention of many women, he had never thought that he was handsome enough to attract the attention of many women. But in any case, he had seen that face for 26 years and did not feel sick of it. Now that he was suddenly asked to accept another version of himself, another face, he only felt frustrated.
"Who the f * ck is this?!" He roared at the mirror, and then smashed the mirror with a punch. The reflection of himself in the mirror immediately became countless, and the fragments fell to the ground with a clattering sound. Countless faces looked at Tang En, as if laughing at him.
Tang En felt a little dizzy. He took a step back and leaned against the smooth wall, panting heavily.
Why was it him?
Tang En, who stayed quietly in the darkness for a few minutes, gradually calmed down. He decided not to think about such a complicated problem for now. He had a habit in China. Whenever he encountered something that did not go his way, he would find a place to drink. There were CD bars everywhere, and he might even be able to find a bar or something along the way. He habitually treated Nottingham as a CD in his heart, and decided to find a bar to drown his sorrows. He did not care what his current identity was.
Looking at the hazy sky outside, he put on a thick windbreaker and walked out the door.
"Losing 0: 3 to the weak Walsall on their home ground, Forest has indeed had a bad year recently. Paul Hart, who had high hopes placed on him, did not bring good results to the team. He submitted his resignation request to the team chairman, Nigel Doughty, after the last round of matches, and it was quickly approved. Today was their acting manager, Tony Twain's first time coaching the First Team, and he did not expect to be hit by one of his own players at the sidelines. Let's take a look at the video again. He seemed to be stunned and forgot to dodge … "
The television fixed on the elevated platform was currently broadcasting the day's sports news, and the focus was naturally on everything that had happened at the sidelines of Nottingham Forest's match.
A wave of boos rang out in the noisy bar.
"I've never seen such an embarrassing manager!" A drunken man stuck up his middle finger at the television. "I know that Tony Twain! He used to be Paul Hart's assistant in the youth team. To be honest, I don't have a good impression of him. He's quiet and looks like he's afraid of trouble. Do you expect a coward like him to lead Forest out of this predicament? Nigel, that old fellow, has also lost his former lofty aspirations. Forest is finished today! Finished, finished … "He muttered as he sprawled on the table. Beside him was a pile of empty beer bottles.
Just as the drunken man finished his tirade, Twain pushed open the door and entered. The sound of the door attracted the attention of most of the people in the bar who were drinking and chatting. Everyone's gaze turned to the door. When they saw who entered, they were first surprised, and then a mocking smile appeared on their faces.
"Heh heh, look!" A typical British middle-aged man stood up with his glass raised and shouted, "Our manager, Tony Twain, has arrived!"
"Boohoo!" The people in the bar let out a "welcome" sound.
"Cheers for his beautiful defense against Johansson's breakthrough outside the field!" The middle-aged man raised the glass in his hand, and the people around him immediately followed suit and raised their glasses. "Cheers!!"
Another man, who was obviously drunk, stood up unsteadily and walked to Twain. With a beer bottle in his hand, he raised it to his mouth and asked with a burp, "Manager Tony Twain, that was a beautiful defense, but the referee and the public clearly don't … don't think so … Uh! You, what, what do you think? "
After asking, he turned his head and laughed loudly at the other people in the bar.
Twain did not want to cause trouble. He was here to drink away his worries. So, he pushed away the beer bottle in front of him with a gloomy face. Then, he walked straight to the bar counter and said to the bartender inside, "Please give me a …" He habitually wanted to say a bottle of "Xiao Er" — a small bottle of Erguotou. Although he was from Sichuan, he went to university in the north. Since then, he had fallen in love with this kind of strong alcohol. However, he realized that he did not know how to say "Xiao Er" in English. More importantly, he quickly realized that he was in England, not China. He lowered his head and muttered a curse. Then, he changed his words and said, "Give me the strongest alcohol."
The people who had been watching him from the side all jeered when they heard him say the strongest alcohol.
"Yo! The coward Tony actually drinks too?! "
"We have freshly squeezed milk. Do you want to try it? I still think milk suits you better, Tony! " A fat man squeezed his clearly sagging chest with both hands and screamed. The people beside him laughed until they were sprawled on the table.
The young bartender was at a loss in the face of these excited customers. He wanted to go get the alcohol but was stopped by the drunkards. "Give him juice! Juice! "
"No, no, more milk. We have the freshest milk!"
"Ahaha!"
The owner of the bar was alarmed by the noise outside. He came down from upstairs and stood at the top of the stairs. He saw that almost all the customers who had not fallen asleep on the table were gathered in front of the bar counter. In the middle of them sat a man wrapped in a black trench coat. He was being laughed at by the drunkards to their hearts' content.
"Guys, what's going on?" His loud voice immediately silenced the bar. When the arrogant drunkards saw the person standing behind them, they immediately quietened down.
Tang En thought it was strange. Who could make this group of people behave with just one sentence? He turned his head slightly and saw a man walk out from the shadows at the top of the stairs.
The young bartender hurriedly pointed at Tang En and said to the man, "Boss, he wants a hard drink."
After the man saw clearly who was sitting, he was a little surprised, but he still said, "Just give it to him."
"But … but they won't let …" The bartender looked at the drunkards who had already returned to their respective seats awkwardly.
The man looked around the bar. Everyone who was swept by his gaze lowered their heads. They were either pretending to be asleep or lowering their heads to drink with all their might. Tang En became more and more interested in the capable middle-aged man in front of him.
"I see that no one has any objections. Pour him a glass of Scotch whiskey. It's my treat." The bar owner turned to ask Tang En, "Single or double? With ice and water? "
Tang En asked in surprise, "With rocks?" (In the bar, they did not say "With ice," but "With rock.")
The drunkards who were watching the commotion laughed.
The bar owner also laughed. "I forgot who you are …" He poured half a glass of golden whiskey into the glass and added half a glass of water. Then he handed it to Tang En. "This is the liquor from my hometown."
Tang En took a sip and immediately coughed. He rarely drank foreign liquor. Moreover, this pure Scotch whiskey had a strong charred smell.
A wave of gloating laughter rang out in the bar.
"The Tony Twain I know never drank. He lived like a true, traditional Puritan. And he wouldn't look at me like this. Don't you know who I am? "The man stared at Tang En. Tang En realized that he seemed to be seen through by this man. He had to find a way to conceal himself.
"Uh … I …" Tang En lowered his head and took another sip. This time, he did not dare to let the liquor stay in his throat for a second longer. He swallowed it directly. That uncomfortable feeling was indeed lighter. "I fell on the side of the court in the afternoon …"
Another wave of laughter rang out.
The man touched the back of his head to express his understanding.
Someone at the side helped Tang En out. A loud voice shouted, "Looks like our Manager Tony really hurt his head from the fall! The person sitting next to you is the pride of Nottingham Forest, the hero of two European Champions Cups, the winner of the 1978 Stanley Matthews Award, Mr. Kenny Burns! He's a hundred times better than a stupid donkey like you! Stupid donkey! You're a stupid donkey! "
Even though Tang En was grateful to this person for helping him introduce the big shot in front of him in detail, it did not mean that he had to accept such insults. It was easy for a person to be nervous and restless when they first arrived in a foreign environment. There would be a lot of nameless anger in their hearts. And this nameless anger had been accumulating ever since he lost face on the court today. When he entered the bar, those people insulted him. He had tolerated it, but it did not mean that he could continue to tolerate it. Moreover, he was not a kind person. When he was in China, he was a short-tempered, impulsive "angry youth." Otherwise, he would not have transmigrated because of a fight.
The person behind him laughed heartily, calling out "stupid donkey" non-stop. However, the person he was mocking suddenly turned around and spilled the remaining half a glass of whiskey in his hand. The golden Scotch whiskey shone brilliantly under the lights. It drew a beautiful arc in the air, and then shot accurately at the unlucky person's face. It was as accurate and beautiful as a David Beckham's right foot free kick.
The unlucky person had just wiped the wine off his face when he opened his mouth to curse, "You f * cking bastard …"
"Bang!" His vulgarities were smashed back by a thick glass of whiskey. Tang En pounced on the other person at a speed that no one could have imagined. He could not take it anymore. He had come to this place for no reason, had transmigrated forward four and a half years, and had been ridiculed and insulted for no reason. He wanted to find someone to vent his anger on, regardless of whether he beat the other person down or the other person beat him down.
The two of them crashed into the table behind them. The empty bottles fell and shattered on the floor with a crisp sound.
The laughter stopped abruptly. Everyone was stunned. They did not expect the cowardly Tang En to suddenly explode.
The first person to react was the owner of the bar, Kenny Burns. He pushed the fat man standing beside the bar and shouted, "What are you guys standing there for? Pull them apart! "
His voice woke everyone up. They swarmed forward and struggled to pull apart the two people who were entangled together. Other than the tragic scene on the floor, the person who had been hit had blood seeping out of his forehead. There was a red circle there, the mark of the glass. Other than that, his left cheek was red as if he was drunk from a punch.
As for Tang En, other than messing up his hair and clothes, he was fine. He seemed to have vented his anger after being pulled up. He did not look like he was going to pounce on the other person. He tidied his clothes and hair, then spat at the unlucky person who was being held by his companion. "I don't f * cking care who you are, but don't mess with me."
He then turned to Burns and said, "I'm sorry for making such a mess here. Today was too f * cking … "He was furious at the thought of being transmigrated." Another day … I'll personally apologize. Please don't worry about the compensation. "
Then, without waiting for the owner of the bar to say anything, he turned and walked towards the door. When he passed by the fat man, he even mocked, "You'd better save your milk for yourself, fat pig."
Everyone watched as he pushed the door open and walked out, but no one thought of stopping him. They just watched him leave, leaving behind a mess.
The bar was silent. At that moment, the drunk man sat up from the table. Looking at the silent people and the mess in the room, he asked in confusion, "Did I miss something?"
Tang En walked blindly, lost. He crossed one street, then another. He did not know where he was until he felt tired. He sat down on a bench by the side of the road. He had just fought, but his mood did not improve. Instead, he felt even more distressed. Because he realized that he could only accept the helpless reality — he had become an Englishman, and he could not go back.
This d * mn day. He looked up at the sky, but he could not see anything other than the thick dark clouds. He still did not understand why he was that person. If all of this was fate's arrangement, then was there any special reason for fate to pick him? Or was fate like the lottery, randomly picking out a ping-pong ball from a pile of ping-pong balls? Serves me right for being unlucky.
I don't want to be this d * mn coach! I don't want to be a foreigner! Let me go back, let me go back! Could Tang En shout like that? No. In his twenty-six years of life, Tang En had never bowed down to anyone or anything. He was like a stone in a latrine pit — smelly and hard. Therefore, he achieved nothing. Since primary school, he had been listed as the most difficult student to discipline by his teachers. Because he was not liked in university, he did not have a share in any good things like joining the party or staying in school. After he graduated, he was ostracized everywhere he went. Until now, he did not even have a girlfriend. In short, it was a rather failed twenty-six years of life.
Tang En raised his head again and looked at the dark night sky. He suddenly thought it through. Since his "previous life" was quite terrible, why not use this opportunity to have a different life? Although he had never been a football coach, he had watched football for more than ten years and played every generation of football manager games. He more or less understood the nature of a coach's work. Was this not a good opportunity for a challenge?
He no longer thought about such a boring question as why God had chosen him. Now, he only needed to think about how to be more like a real professional coach. Although it would be difficult, it was worth a try.
"Hey, buddy. You barged into my house without my permission. I'll call the police if you don't leave after I count to ten! "An old voice suddenly rang out beside him. "Ten, nine, eight …"
Tang En looked blankly at the old man standing opposite him. He was holding many newspapers in his arms and a half-bitten hamburger in his hand.
"This … is your house?" He pointed to the bench under his butt.
"Of course."
"Ah, sorry to disturb …" Tang En stood up from the chair. The old man immediately sat down and lay down. He covered himself with the newspapers in his arms and pressed them firmly between the back of the chair and his body.
Looking at the beggar lying in the "newspaper nest" while eating his hamburger contentedly, Tang En even wanted to thank God for not letting him "possess" the beggar's body. Fate did not treat him badly.
A taxi alighted in front of him. He quickly walked forward and got in. Tang En took one last look at the beggar enjoying his "dinner" in the cold wind and let the driver take him back to the unfamiliar home.
From today onwards, a whole new world slowly unfolded before Tang En's eyes.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
