Soccer: I’m Building a Giant in the Premier League

Chapter 29 – I'm Not a Tycoon

"That's twenty million pounds!"

"Ah Cheng, I'm not doubting you, but even if you sold me, you still couldn't come up with that kind of money."

"That's two hundred million yuan!"

"Can we really raise that in just two years?"

…

On the way back to central London from Brent Reservoir, Lin Zhongqiu sat in the backseat, nagging nonstop as he tried to talk some sense into Yang Cheng.

Up front, Chris Hunter, who was driving, found the whole scene oddly amusing.

The contrast couldn't have been sharper.

Yang Cheng, young and decisive, had just publicly declared that they'd invest £20 million over two years in building a training base. With that kind of commitment, Chris knew that if he couldn't secure the deal with the government, he'd lose all credibility in the City.

And then there was Lin Zhongqiu, his exact opposite—ultraconservative, cautious to a fault. Just hearing "£20 million" seemed to have pushed him to the brink of collapse.

Still, thinking it over, Chris couldn't help but feel a little sympathetic toward the poor, loyal CFO.

Given Bayswater Chinese FC's current situation, raising £20 million wasn't realistic.

And yet… somehow, Chris still believed in Yang Cheng.

In the passenger seat, Brian Kidd was already used to these kinds of conversations. When he saw the look on Chris's face, he simply smiled.

"This won't work. Absolutely not," Lin insisted again.

"Relax, Uncle Lin," Yang Cheng replied with a chuckle. "I'll take care of the money. You don't need to worry."

Yang looked at his loyal, but overly cautious elder with a mix of affection and helplessness.

He was beginning to realize that Lin Zhongqiu might become a bottleneck for the club's future.

Maybe it was time to send him back to China.

But who could replace him?

Finance is the heart of any club. Without someone capable and fully trusted in that role, Yang wouldn't feel secure.

Every top club in the world handled finances with utmost care.

At Barcelona, Ferran Soriano served as Vice President in charge of finance—Laporta's right-hand man. His exceptional track record at Barça landed him the role of CEO at Manchester City under the Abu Dhabi group.

At Real Madrid, the Vice President of Finance was just as critical. Under Florentino Pérez, Madrid poached elite professionals from major multinational firms to construct a finely tuned wage structure and support player recruitment strategies.

It was the same at every top club.

A club's financial structure is part of its core competitiveness.

A well-run wage system motivates players, encourages a healthy internal hierarchy, and fosters long-term sustainability.

This principle had been proven countless times.

But Bayswater Chinese FC didn't have any of that.

And Yang couldn't build it alone.

To work in the UK, you needed someone legally eligible, competent, and most importantly—trustworthy.

Yang racked his brain.

He didn't know anyone who fit… or wait.

Maybe this time around, he did.

…

Back from Kimberley Green to the city, Yang dove back into intensive pre-match preparations.

The team was stable, but the EFL Trophy Final was fast approaching.

It would be the club's first chance at a professional title in its history.

Everyone at Bayswater wanted to bring that trophy home.

Yang's father even called from China to ask about the land deal.

No doubt, Lin Zhongqiu had updated him.

But his father didn't ask questions—he simply offered full support.

He also said he planned to fly to England to watch the final in person.

On March 2, Bayswater beat Sheffield Wednesday 2–0 at home in League Two Round 34.

But four days later, in Round 35, they were held 0–0 away by Notts County.

With both QPR and Plymouth also drawing, Bayswater's lead remained unchanged.

With only 11 matches left, promotion was now almost guaranteed.

That stability gave Yang time to focus on other things.

…

Mention Fleet Street, and the first thing people think of is tabloid journalism.

Once the headquarters of the British press, it was a legendary hub for newspapers and media.

But times had changed. Only Reuters remained, and even they were rumored to be planning a move.

The big players had shifted to Wapping and Canary Wharf.

And the symbolic title of "Fleet Street" faded along with them.

Still, the area was buzzing.

Law firms had taken over almost every block.

Rivercourt House, at the eastern end of Fleet Street, had once been the headquarters of The Daily Telegraph. Now it served as the UK offices for Goldman Sachs.

During afternoon tea, in a small donut shop across from Rivercourt, Yang Cheng sat by the window, sipping coffee, waiting.

Ding-ling.

The door chimed.

In walked a stylish woman in a black pencil skirt and a crisp white V-neck blouse.

Clearly a regular, she greeted the owner casually with a "Same as always," while her eyes scanned the room.

It didn't take her long to spot Yang Cheng.

In this life, Yang's memory of his university senior Xia Qing was vague, but one word stuck:

Beautiful.

Their school never officially voted on a "campus queen," but whenever the guys talked about attractive girls, Xia Qing from the business school was always at the top.

To be honest, Yang—who'd seen plenty of beauties in both lifetimes—was slightly underwhelmed at first glance.

She was gorgeous, yes. Classic features. Delicate, poised.

But she didn't have that shock factor, the kind that made your heart skip.

Then he looked a second time—and found himself surprised.

Her face was flawless, almost like it had been sculpted to golden-ratio perfection.

And by the third look, her beauty had depth—the kind that grew on you.

Slim figure, about 5'7", straight black hair tied behind her neck.

Her monochrome outfit hugged her figure perfectly, radiating clean, efficient elegance.

But there was still a soft grace beneath that businesslike exterior.

On the fourth look, her eyes finally met Yang Cheng's.

She smiled—and the world around him seemed to glow with warm light.

"Have you been waiting long?"

She walked over gracefully and sat down across from him, her soft gaze fixed on him—warm and inviting.

It put Yang at ease.

"Not long. I just got here."

He lied casually—only for her to glance down at the empty coffee cup in front of him.

Busted.

"Okay, fine. I got here half an hour ago," he confessed.

"Sorry, I've been tied up with a project at work."

Xia Qing hadn't been late—but she still apologized.

"I get it. You're an Oxford Business School grad, an investment analyst at Goldman Sachs, handling multi-million-pound deals every day."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't flatter me. In a place like that, I'm just a lowly office drone."

"Well, hearing that makes me feel even worse," Yang grinned.

Just then, the server brought over her coffee and donut. Yang used the chance to order another black coffee.

"Alright, enough joking. You've been in London for over six months. What made you finally reach out to me?" she asked, sipping her coffee with a smile.

Yang gave a wry smile. "I came to ask for help, of course."

"Don't fake it. I've seen your name in the papers. Top of League Two, everyone says you're the promotion favorite."

She eyed him like she was seeing him anew.

"That's all for show, Senior. Trust me."

She didn't respond, just kept smiling.

Yang realized: not only was she beautiful, but she loved to smile.

And her smile made her even more beautiful.

She carried herself with the kind of confidence only someone untouched by hardship could.

It reminded Yang of an old university rumor:

Xia Qing came from an exceptional family.

Wealthy, beautiful, capable—and above all, down-to-earth.

He'd first met her during his freshman year. She was volunteering with the student council, welcoming new students.

What he didn't know was: while he had been observing her, she had been observing him too.

In just three years, this junior had changed a lot.

"So? What's the issue?" she asked, checking her watch.

Yang got straight to the point, handing her a folder.

He laid out Bayswater's current challenges and his goals in detail.

"You majored in accounting, right? And interned at one of the biggest firms in our province?"

Xia Qing furrowed her brow, studying the documents intently.

Yang just watched her, fascinated.

When she was focused—she was even more beautiful.

"Alright. I don't have time now. I'll take this home and go through it later. I'll see if I can help."

"Thanks, Senior."

"But about that £20 million training base… I think you should reconsider."

"Why?"

"Interest rates are going up."

That caught Yang off guard.

"If I'm not mistaken, you plan to buy the land and use it as collateral for a loan to build the base, right?"

"But you're overlooking something—the interest rate hike."

"For years, the UK's rates were stable. But in November, they rose to 3.75%. In February, they went up another 25 basis points, now at 4%. And they'll probably keep climbing."

She looked genuinely concerned.

"Ah Cheng, during a rate-hike cycle, taking out a large loan like this—especially with your current revenue—it's risky."

Yang had been too focused on football to track the financial news.

This alone proved he needed a top-tier financial expert by his side.

"I do plan to borrow, but I won't rush into it," Yang replied.

He briefly laid out his funding strategy.

Some from his own pocket. Some from the bank.

He'd also apply for youth development grants from the FA, which offered subsidies for clubs investing in academies and infrastructure.

"Most importantly, I hope the FA will help us secure a low-interest loan."

After all, it wasn't like he was Abramovich.

Xia Qing thought it over and nodded. "If that's the case, then yes, the pressure will be much less. But it all depends on how much that loan covers."

Yang nodded. "Don't worry, Senior—I won't make reckless decisions."

Then, his eyes twinkled. "Besides, I've got you watching my back, haven't I?"

Xia Qing instantly saw through his flirtation and stood up with a laugh.

"I'm swamped every day. Where would I find time to babysit you?"

She said that—but she still took all the documents with her.

Yang smiled as he watched her leave, finally breathing a little easier.

If what Xia Qing said was true, then yes—he couldn't afford to be reckless.

But no matter what, the youth academy had to happen.

Otherwise, they might not even qualify for the Championship.

And the stadium…

Just thinking about all that gave Yang a splitting headache.

Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.

Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10