I Just Wanted to Play Soccer, But I Became a Hollywood Heartthrob

The match between Southampton and Northampton continued on the TV screen.

Being a local derby, both teams played aggressively, almost recklessly.

Though Northampton was technically inferior, they didn't play like an underdog.

They resorted to brutal tackles, sneaky shirt-pulling, and outright flying kicks.

Southampton, unwilling to be outdone, retaliated with equal force.

The game was tense and chaotic, frequently interrupted by fouls.

By halftime, both teams had racked up five yellow cards each, but the score remained:

Southampton 1:0 Northampton.

PFFT!

Andrew popped open his fourth beer, smirking smugly.

"Gu, I'm sorry to say, but your money is down the drain.

"In just 45 minutes, my bet will land me 185 pounds in profit!

"I told you, you don't understand football!

"You should've listened to a 30-year veteran like me!

"Now look at you—your entire month's rent is gone!"

Gu Ran just smiled.

So far, everything was exactly as he remembered.

Which meant…

He wasn't worried at all—in fact, he was a little excited.

Fifteen-minute halftime break.

The second half began.

54th minute—

Southampton launched a long pass down the right wing.

Striker David Connolly used his strength to shove aside his defender and got to the ball first at the edge of the box!

Andrew gripped his beer can tightly, eyes shining.

"CONNOLLY—SHOOT! SHOOT!"

Before Connolly could fire, a Northampton defender lunged in with a vicious sliding tackle, smashing into Connolly's supporting ankle.

BAM!

Connolly collapsed, clutching his foot in agony!

The Southampton players erupted in fury and swarmed the referee.

One of them charged straight at the Northampton defender and dropkicked him in the chest!

TOTAL CHAOS!

Players from both teams started brawling!

Even the substitutes and coaches rushed onto the field to fight.

The managers hurled water bottles at each other.

Fans joined in, throwing beer bottles and flares onto the pitch!

It was absolute madness.

This was lower-league British football.

Forget tactics—fistfights were the real tradition.

"HAHAHAHA! YES! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

Andrew chugged his beer, pumping his fists.

"SAINTS! CHARGE! BEAT THOSE NORTHAMPTON BASTARDS!"

He started singing Southampton's club anthem:

"Oh When the Saints Go Marching In!"

Gu Ran tried not to laugh.

BEEP! BEEP!

The referee desperately tried to restore order, frantically flashing cards left and right.

Players were getting sent off one after another.

Since Southampton had the upper hand in the fight, they also got the most red cards.

Andrew's smug expression suddenly froze.

"Wait—what the hell?! REF! STOP!

"WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF PLAYERS!!"

Gu Ran feigned ignorance.

"Uncle Andrew, what happens if a team doesn't have enough players?"

Andrew gritted his teeth.

"Ugh, fine! I'll explain—since you clearly don't know anything about football!

"According to the rules, if a team gets five players sent off, the match automatically ends!

"If Southampton drops below seven players, they'll forfeit and lose 0-3 by default!

"And guess what? Betting companies count that as an official result!"

Gu Ran blinked innocently.

"Oh? So if that happens, I'll win my bet?

"But Uncle, you said my prediction was impossible.

"You even said Chinese people are dumb and rich!

"I couldn't possibly win, right?"

Andrew froze.

A cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

Technically, this kind of bet should NEVER win.

But who could've predicted that the match would descend into complete anarchy?!

Andrew, a 30-year betting veteran, had just been outsmarted by a rookie gambler.

Gu Ran glanced at Andrew's pale face.

What a shame—his collection limit had already been reached today.

Otherwise, he could have picked up Andrew's skillset.

As a logistics worker, Andrew's skill would probably be… driving?

BEEP!

The referee showed another red card.

Fifth Southampton player sent off.

MATCH ENDED!

Final score: Southampton 0:3 Northampton.

Gu Ran's 86x odds bet had just hit!

1,000 pounds turned into 86,000 pounds!

HELL YES!

Sure, 86,000 pounds wasn't a life-changing fortune—but it was more than enough to live comfortably for a while.

Even better—his bet amount wasn't suspiciously high.

Betting companies wouldn't notice him yet.

If he found more underdog games from his past life memory…

This could be a very profitable side hustle.

Gu Ran stretched lazily.

"Wow, betting is actually pretty easy.

"Uncle, I told you—I had a good feeling.

"I even offered to let you bet with me.

"But now… your private savings are gone."

Andrew's face twitched violently.

For the first time in 30 years, he realized…

He had been betting the wrong way all along.

Finally, after a long silence…

Andrew lowered his head.

"Big Brother… please teach me."

WHAT THE HELL?!

YOU'RE ACTUALLY CALLING ME BIG BROTHER?!

Gu Ran panicked.

"NO, NO! DON'T CALL ME THAT!

"I don't know anything about gambling!

"Chinese people are dumb and rich, remember?"

Andrew clutched his head.

"Uncle was wrong! Gu, your instincts are terrifying!

"You guessed the exact score—how the hell did you do that?!

"Chinese people must have some mysterious Eastern magic!

"Please, Gu, let me follow your bets next time!"

Then he groaned loudly.

"JESUS! WHY DIDN'T I FOLLOW YOU?!

"If I had placed the same bet, I'd have 86,000 pounds too!

"DAMN IT! DAMN IT!!!"

His precious few strands of hair trembled in despair.

Gu Ran snickered and casually grabbed a football newspaper from the table.

"Uncle, have you finished reading this? Can I borrow it?"

Andrew waved his hand.

"Gu, just take whatever you want!

"You're a rich man now!"

"Thanks, Uncle."

Gu Ran headed back to his room, suppressing a huge grin.

Behind him, Andrew was still beating his chest.

"I WAS SO CLOSE TO 86,000 POUNDS!

"Next time, I'm **100% following Gu's bets!!"

Back in his room, Gu Ran shut the door.

Then he silently pumped his fists in the air.

HELL. FREAKING. YES.

(End of Chapter)