Tang En scratched his head, "Have we arrived at an early 1990s' refugee zone?"

Moore pointed to a yellow long wagon and announced, "The modernized wagon is part of the nomadic way of life, Mr. Twain. Freddy Eastwood, who you're looking for, is such a Romanichal Gypsy."

"This sounds like a fantasy novel," Tang En chuckled. "Can he do divination? The sparkling magic crystal ball, the mysterious cabin with the half-covered hanging screen by the door."

Moore shook his head. "He can't. But ..."

"But?"

"It is said that his wife is able to. She is also a Romani."

Looking in front of him, Tang En had no idea what to say. He came here to find the wonderkid from the game, not a Romanichal Gypsy who was living with his wife in a wagon outside mainstream society.

The white curtain in the third window frame from the left, directly opposite them, swayed a little. Moore called attention to Twain who was still in a daze, "It seems that the sound of our conversation has awakened the owner here, Mr. Twain."

"Huh? What?"

Tang En's question was interrupted by the creaking sound of a door opening.

A girl in pink pajamas with messy hair, wearing a black fur coat on the outside–Tang En was not able to say if it was a woman in front of him because she looked too young–stuck her head out of the wagon.

"You two gentlemen, are you here to buy a car?" The girl's voice was crisp, like the song of a bird in the morning.

"Buy a car?" Tang En thought he had heard wrong.

Moore's slow, deep voice rang out in his ear again. "He has joined a local amateur team and is helping his father sell second-hand cars when he's not training or playing."

Tang En glanced at Moore. "Mr. Moore, do you know anything else about him that you can tell me all at once?"

When Moore was about to open his mouth, the girl jumped down from the wagon and stood barefoot on the grass in the early winter morning. She curiously sized-up at the two visitors. "It appears that you are not here to buy a car, nor are you here for divination. Are you guys sent by the old man Boris?"

"Who is Boris?" Tang En did not understand. With all these things happening, he felt that he should not have gone out today!

"A local councilor." Moore explained again. "He has publicly condemned them on many occasions that it is illegal to put their home on the community greenbelt. And he has also appealed to the relevant authorities to investigate the matter."

"Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Moore." Tang En nodded. He was completely out of temper.

"You're welcome, Mr. Twain."

"But, I don't think you look very much like government people either." The girl was also observing Twain and Moore while they were talking. "In that case, what exactly are you here to do?" Out of nowhere, she pulled out a deck of playing cards, shuffled them in her hands and played with them over and over. Tang En's attention was caught by her excellent card skills.

What kind of people are from this family?!

At this time, he heard a burst of "clop clop" sound from behind him. Then a loud and sharp male voice suddenly rang out, "Hey, Sabina! Do we have visitors? Are they here to buy a car or looking for a divination? Is the baby awake, did you give him milk? Oh, quickly go back, you have no shoes on!"

This sudden voice sounded like a machine gun. He was speaking very quickly, and his elocution was unclear, ratatatat, ratatatat... Tang En simply could not catch what he had said in time and then it was over.

He and Moore turned back to look, and a man's head appeared above the bushes. "Good heavens, he's really tall!" exclaimed Tang En. Although the bushes were not that tall, they were as tall as a man, and this man looked taller than the bushes. Was he another Jan Koller? No, he remembered this man in the game was not tall at all.

"Mr. Twain, in fact," Moore corrected Twain's remark, "he is not that tall. He seems tall to you, because..."

Eastwood looked at these two unfamiliar men in front of his eyes, shook his head curiously, and then came out from behind the bushes.

"...because he's riding a horse."

When he saw Eastwood "walking" out, Tang En heard something clicked in his brain.

Moore was right, the man was indeed riding on the back of a black steed! The horse flicked its tail continuously and snorted.

"Oh my god! Am I in the Middle Ages?" cried Tang En. He might never forget what he had seen today for the rest of his life—Tang En's medieval fantasy trip!

The gypsy couple looked strangely at the man who was scratching his head and wondered what he was doing. At this time, a baby's cry could be heard in the wagon, and the woman hurriedly ran back. The man jumped down to lead the horse to the woods behind and fasten the reins to a tree. Having done this, he walked back to the wagon, sat down in the chair by the doorway, and studied the two men.

Tang En finally recovered from the bewilderment. He stepped forward, gave a cough, and then introduced himself. "Hello, Freddy. I am... um, I'm..." He was stuck. How should I introduce myself?

"It doesn't matter who you are, Sir." Eastwood sat on his chair in a very relaxed manner, shaking his head. "What's important is your purpose in coming here."

"Freddy, do you want to play professional football?" Tang En got right to the point.

This question caught Eastwood's attention and he scrutinized Twain for a long time. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh, rose from his chair, and shouted at Twain, "I remember now! You're that guy from Nottingham Forest!"

Tang En nodded, "Just as you thought. I'm that guy." It was a good moniker which saved everyone a lot of trouble.

Eastwood snorted, "Whose fault was it that I was kicked out of West Ham United? You have some nerve coming here to look for me. Are you planning to let me play for you?"

Hearing the other person say so, Tang En scratched his nose abashedly. The matter with what Wood did was indeed a little unscrupulous, but if it were not for that foul, how could he have found out what position Wood was good for? If this person in front of him was not injured at that time, he might not be reduced to the point of playing for an amateur team. But if it did not happen this way, how could they have such a face-to-face opportunity today?

Ah, karmic retribution.

When Tang En saw him, he was certain that this man was the very stubborn Freddy Eastwood in his memory. His slender figure, pale face and brown hair completely matched his impression of his face. It was this man who helped his team eliminate the mighty Manchester United with a direct free kick in the EFL Cup in the 06-07 season.

The only concern Tang En had now was that he could not remember the reason for his abandonment by West Ham United; was it because West Ham thought he had no potential or was it because of his injury? Did George Wood's foul toward him affect his future ability? Was Eastwood, standing before Tang En now, still the one who would wipe out Manchester United?

Eastwood was still complaining on and on when his wife, who appeared behind him carrying their child, gave a cough, "Don't look for excuses, Freddy. Haven't you always wanted to play professional football? Heres your chance now."

Eastwood was immediately muzzled.

Then the woman smiled at Tang En. "I'm sorry, sir. That injury was really a huge blow for Freddy."

Tang En apologetically nodded. "He has every reason to do this. It is me who should say sorry for that matter."

Eastwood's wife continued, "When Freddy's leg was healed, he had once thought about giving up football and concentrating on helping Dad with his car dealership. I persuaded him to try his luck at the other clubs, and he went to Charlton…."

As his wife was recounting these past events, Eastwood sat in his chair and looked up at the sky as if this had nothing to do with him.

"But when the people at Charlton heard that Freddy had just broken his leg a few months before, they didn't even spare him a minute's chance."

All this was caused by Wood. Although it did not have much to do with Tang En, he shouldered the responsibility for this. "I am sorry, madam. We've come to him now, hoping to make up for this regret." After saying that, he looked at Eastwood and quietly waited for his answer.

"Freddy!" His wife raised her volume to call her husband's name.

He finally lowered his head to look at Twain and grunted, "We Romani Gypsies are particular about fair dealing in our business. Since you have come all the way from Nottingham to find me, you have shown your sincerity. Then I also must show my ability. Or you would be worried if I could still play after my right leg had been broken."

Tang En smiled. "No, I'm not worried."

"This afternoon at the New Recreation Ground, come watch me play in a game!"

This was a Southern Amateur Football League game. What was said to be a game at the New Recreation Ground was only an ordinary soccer field and a small stand made of steel frames. Tang En once lamented outside the Bernabéu Stadium that the Forest team home ground was like a sports field in a high school as compared to the Real Madrid home ground. But now the "Playing Fields" in front of his eyes were 100 percent a "high school sports field."

Almost everyone stood on the sidelines of the field watching the game. There was no billboard to circle the football field, no television broadcast, no large number of news reporters, and no locker room... nothing whatsoever.

Looking at such a surrounding for a match, Tang En felt sorry for Eastwood and at the same time, even more deeply apologetic in his heart.

"Stimson is a good man. When I wasn't playing, he asked me to come to Grays Athletic. Even though they are amateur games, I can always stay in shape and maintain my feel for the ball. I think he'll be happy to see that I can return to professional football. To repay him, I'm going to score a lot of goals in this match." Eastwood said this to Twain before the game, as if scoring goals came easy to him, like he could score as many as he wanted.

And now he was standing in the center circle on the field, getting ready to kick off.

"What do you think, Mr. Moore?" Tang En asked for the opinion of the Forest football club's former chief scout on the sidelines.

"I have not watched his matches before, Mr. Twain," Moore answered truthfully. "But those cheers with his name around the field should be able to explain some things."

"I think so too," said Tang En with a smile.

The game had only gone on for 50 minutes, and Tang En already could not contain his excitement. He really saw it. He saw the Freddy Eastwood who was exactly the same as that Freddy Eastwood in FM. The wonderkid with player attributes like Scoring - 18, Passing - 17, Free Kicks - 19, Technique - 18, Dribbling - 17, Long Shots - 16, Flair - 18, Acceleration - 17, Balance - 17, Pace - 15!

The spectators around New Recreation Ground shouted Eastwood's name, worshipping him like a god!

In the 50 minutes, he had already scored six goals! A penalty kick, a free kick, a long shot, a corner kick, and dribbled past the goalkeeper to shoot a goal in! He performed almost every scoring method as if he were demonstrating his shooting ability to Twain.

"What do you think now, Mr. Moore?" Tang En said to Moore standing next to him amidst the cheering sounds.

"Just as you said, Mr. Twain. He is a genius." Moore's face finally showed a slight change of expression as he answered with a slight smile. Clearly, the Romanichal striker's performance also won over the picky old scout.

"He's only 20 years old!" Tang En applauded Eastwood with the people around him. "He does not belong to such a shabby stadium and a match with no television broadcast and reporters! We must sign him. He will become a sharp tool on the Forest team's frontline!"

"I agree too, but I have an issue with this from the beginning, Mr. Twain."

"Huh?"

"Signing new players seems to be the job of a First Team manager."

Tang En turned to look at the old scout standing beside him. "You can see me as the future Forest First Team manager." He saw there was a flash in the old man's deep-set eyes. "Mr. Moore, are you going to reconsider your decision to retire?"

"No, Mr. Twain, I will not withdraw my decision."

Tang En was a little disappointed when he heard Moore say that. It still did not work. This old man is really stubborn!

"But, just like this, you can ask me for help in your individual capacity, Mr. Twain." Old Moore still had no expression, but Tang En seemed to see an old man smiling at himself.

There was cheering around him once more. Eastwood had scored again.