Gao Bo was a workaholic.
The lights in his office stayed on until four in the morning. When John Aston walked in at eight, Gao Bo was already dressed neatly, reviewing notes, and preparing to call his assistant for a meeting.
"You really need to get some rest, Gao," John said, concern in his voice. The stadium security staff had told him that Gao Bo hadn't gone home the night before — he had spent the entire night working in the office.
But Gao Bo hardly felt tired. Ever since childhood, he had noticed that when he was deeply focused on something he loved, he needed only two or three hours of sleep to stay alert.
He could fall into deep sleep quickly, allowing his brain to recover energy in a short time.
Many great managers shared this trait. Rijkaard, for instance, was also known as a workaholic — someone who could stay energetic after just a couple of hours of rest.
In truth, it wasn't only football coaches. Many people who had achieved remarkable success in their fields often shared this same ability.
Fate wasn't fair — some people were simply born with different gifts.
"Let's not talk about that, John," Gao Bo said, waving the concern aside. "These are the notes I put together last night. Take a look at them — we'll go over everything in the coaches' meeting later."
He handed John a stack of papers covered in writing.
John flipped through the pages quickly, then looked up in surprise.
"This is your plan for next season?"
"Yes," Gao Bo replied with a calm nod. "We've got a transfer budget of two hundred thousand pounds — not much, but it's something. I've also adjusted the previous training schedule. From now on, we'll follow this new plan."
He turned his desk calendar toward John.
"Today's May 26," Gao Bo said, tapping the date. "We've got two months before the new season starts. The players report back on June 20 — before that, there are several key things we need to settle."
Just then, fitness coach Melvin Donald rushed in.
"Gao, you're a celebrity in Luton now!" he exclaimed, clutching a handful of newspapers.
Gao Bo took them from him. Every front page carried the same story — Luton Town's new head coach.
He had taken over the job quietly. The club hadn't even held a press conference. But for the local media, a struggling League Two side hiring a Chinese manager was enough to create a small sensation.
Given the club's crisis, though, none of the reports were flattering.
Some papers went as far as to claim Gao Bo had gotten the job through connections. Only now did Gao Bo discover that he and the club's owner, David Morton, were alumni — both had attended the University of London.
He skimmed through the articles, lost interest quickly, and set them aside.
Luton wasn't a big club. Outside the local press, few journalists cared about a team buried in League Two. That meant, at least for now, there was no real media pressure to worry about.
"Donald, perfect timing," Gao Bo said, brushing off the topic. "Let's have our meeting together."
He looked at the only two people in the room — assistant coach John Aston and fitness coach Melvin Donald. Including himself, these three made up the entirety of Luton's first-team staff.
"The first priority," Gao Bo said, "is to expand the coaching team."
"In training, I'll work alongside John. Melvin handles physical preparation. What we still lack are a goalkeeping coach and a team doctor."
"I know someone," John offered. "He used to be a goalkeeper coach at Nottingham Forest."
"Then bring him in," Gao Bo replied without hesitation. "I trust your recommendation."
The goalkeeper coach role was specialised, and Gao Bo didn't intend to make excessive demands. After all, this was a fourth-division side — they couldn't afford to be picky.
The discussion about the team doctor, however, was more awkward.
In truth, even some lower-table Premier League clubs didn't take the medical department seriously, let alone a League Two team.
But Gao Bo did. He intended to set up a proper medical unit. Injuries were the bane of every squad, and he knew that many long-term problems began as untreated minor strains. If such risks could be identified early, players could maintain peak condition for much longer.
Unfortunately, finding a doctor who met his standards wouldn't be easy.
"I might know someone," Gao Bo said after a pause.
He recalled Haruko, the Japanese team doctor from Chelsea. She held a master's degree in Sports Medicine from the University of London and was more than qualified to oversee medical operations at Luton.
But would she really leave Chelsea for a small club in crisis? Gao Bo wasn't sure.
"We'll leave the team doctor matter for now," he said finally. "For the moment, let's focus on player signings."
That immediately got John and Donald's attention. Compared to expanding the staff, transfers were far more exciting.
"Drinkwater?" John repeated, trying to read the unfamiliar name on Gao Bo's notes.
"Yes," Gao Bo said. "Danny Drinkwater — he's with Manchester United's U18s. Signing him won't be cheap, though."
He remembered facing United's youth team in the FA Youth Cup final while managing Chelsea U18.
The standout that year had been Danny Welbeck, a bright young striker already included in Ferguson's future plans. There was also Tom Cleverley, another promising midfielder.
Drinkwater, by contrast, had seemed ordinary — one of many hardworking academy players. Yet Gao Bo knew what the future held.
In 2015-16, Drinkwater would become a key figure in Leicester City's miraculous Premier League triumph under Ranieri — the very symbol of football's fairytale season.
That Leicester side was a treasure trove in Gao Bo's eyes. Many of its heroes were still playing in lower-division clubs right now, waiting to be discovered.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
If I sign them now… who will Ranieri have left to build his miracle?
The thought amused him more than it should have.
John, knowing Gao Bo's Chelsea background, wasn't surprised by his attention to academy players.
"Drinkwater's no star at United," John said, "but I doubt they'll let him go easily."
"I know," Gao Bo nodded. "We'll try to buy him first. If not, we'll push for a loan."
For a club like Luton, loans were often the smartest option — Premier League or Championship sides frequently sent their young players out for experience, especially those who couldn't get first-team minutes.
Stars, of course, wouldn't come down to League Two — but an ambitious eighteen-year-old might.
The three men spent the entire morning in discussion — transfers, training plans, preseason scheduling, tactical systems for the new season.
Gao Bo needed to communicate his ideas clearly. A manager couldn't do everything alone; his staff had to fully understand the philosophy he wanted to build.
...
...
"Is that Drinkwater?" John Aston asked, sitting beside Gao Bo.
They were at Manchester United's youth training complex in Manchester. The Premier League season had ended, but for academy players, the campaign was far from over.
For seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds, this was a decisive stage in their careers — a time to prove themselves and fight for professional futures.
On the pitch, the U18 match between Manchester United and Southampton was underway.
"Yes, that's him," Gao Bo said, eyes fixed on the field. Around them sat mostly scouts and a few journalists, mixed among the players' parents and a small group of United supporters.
The Manchester United Academy had long been one of English football's greatest talent factories. Year after year, it supplied players to clubs across the Premier League and Football League.
Because of that reputation, smaller clubs were always eager to sign academy graduates who couldn't break into United's senior squad.
Danny Drinkwater was one such player. Talented, but not quite at the level required for Manchester United's first team.
On the pitch, United's U18s dominated. Before halftime, Danny Welbeck completed his hat-trick, scoring the third goal of the match. The assist came from another promising youngster — Tom Cleverley.
John's eyes remained on Drinkwater. He didn't see anything particularly special. The boy played steadily, made safe decisions, but nothing that stood out. Compared to the lively Cleverley, Drinkwater's presence seemed to fade into the background.
John glanced at his new boss, unsure why Gao Bo was so interested in such an ordinary player.
"Did you notice?" Gao Bo said suddenly, still watching the game. "Up to now, Drinkwater hasn't misplaced a single pass."
John blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't realised that.
Even so, he wasn't convinced. "He hasn't made mistakes, true," he thought, "but he hasn't made much of a difference either..."
Gao Bo didn't share John's doubts. Even though Drinkwater was only eighteen, he could already see the qualities that would define his future.
First and foremost — his positional sense.
From Gao Bo's perspective, Manchester United U18 hadn't conceded a single goal so far, and that owed a great deal to Drinkwater.
A goal doesn't come out of nowhere — it builds up through a sequence of plays. And just as there's a process to scoring, there's a process to preventing one.
Most people notice the dramatic moments — a goalkeeper's diving save, a centre-back's last-ditch tackle — the actions that draw applause. But sometimes, the real work is done quietly, by players who snuff out danger before it ever becomes visible.
Drinkwater was exactly that kind of player.
His positioning was exceptional. As John continued watching closely, he began to see what Gao Bo meant. Whenever Manchester United defended, Drinkwater's awareness of space disrupted Southampton's rhythm. His positioning alone forced their midfielders into uncomfortable decisions.
When John finally set aside his earlier skepticism and focused solely on Drinkwater, he had to admit — this was a very good player.
He might not have the flair or arrogance of a star, but for a club like Luton, such steadiness and intelligence would be invaluable.
What impressed John most was the boy's composure on the ball. His decisions were calm, precise — far beyond his age.
"Will Manchester United really let a player like that go?" John murmured. His doubts had shifted from ability to possibility — could they even manage to sign him?
"Yes," Gao Bo said confidently.
He knew Drinkwater was talented, but not exceptional by Manchester United's standards. For a giant club, a player needed something extraordinary to earn a first-team spot.
Drinkwater wasn't like Welbeck or Cleverley — he was balanced in every aspect, but lacked that one standout quality. And at a club overflowing with prodigies, balanced often meant forgettable.
But for a team like Luton Town, those same qualities could make him a standout.
Gao Bo stood up, eyes sharp.
"Let's go," he said. "Let's get in touch with this kid."
The match ended with a decisive scoreline.
Manchester United U18 defeated Southampton U18 by five goals. Danny Welbeck and Tom Cleverley were the brightest stars on the pitch, their performances dazzling both the scouts and the small crowd of United supporters.
The fans left talking excitedly about the future — about Welbeck's pace, Cleverley's technique, and their promising paths toward the Manchester United first team.
For players like Danny Drinkwater, it was different.
He wasn't a prodigy. He didn't possess the raw flair that drew headlines. And at eighteen, reality had begun to set in — not everyone from the academy would make it to Old Trafford's main stage.
Drinkwater didn't want to leave Manchester United. Playing for the club had been his dream since childhood. But he also understood the truth: the competition for first-team places was brutal.
If he couldn't break through soon, he would have to find another way — perhaps through a loan move, or by leaving permanently to start over elsewhere.
He'd already heard rumours. A few League One and League Two sides were reportedly interested in taking him on loan. But he still hesitated.
At eighteen, a player stood at a crossroads. One wrong decision at this age could send a career spiralling down the long road of the lower leagues.
As the crowd dispersed, Drinkwater slung his training bag over his shoulder and walked out through the academy gates, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Hi, Danny!"
A voice called out.
Drinkwater turned — and saw a young man waiting near the gate, smiling politely. It was Gao Bo.
For Gao Bo, Drinkwater was one of the most challenging targets among the players he wanted to sign.
The midfielder was a product of Manchester United's academy — one of the best in the world — and that made negotiations complicated. Luton Town, a small League Two side, couldn't compete with the status or resources of clubs in higher divisions.
If United wanted to loan Drinkwater out, they could easily find suitors in League One or even the Championship. Against those teams, Luton had little advantage.
That meant the player's own willingness would be crucial.
"You're... the Chinese coach from Chelsea's U18s, aren't you?"
Drinkwater recognized him almost immediately. Not long ago, in the FA Youth Cup Final, Manchester United's U18s had been beaten by Chelsea's youth side — coached by Gao Bo. The loss had infuriated United's academy director, Brian McClair.
After all, while Chelsea had recruited several promising youngsters in recent years, United's academy was still considered the stronger of the two. Losing that final had been a blow to their pride.
"Yes," Gao Bo said with a friendly smile. "I'm Gao Bo. But I'm no longer with Chelsea — I'm now the head coach of Luton Town."
Drinkwater nodded slightly, already guessing where this was going.
"My purpose here," Gao Bo continued, "is to invite you to join my team, Danny. I was very impressed with your performance."
Drinkwater looked momentarily taken aback. If Gao Bo hadn't explained his intentions first, he might have thought the coach was mocking him. After all, being recruited by the manager who'd beaten you in a final could easily feel like an insult.
"I know about Luton," Drinkwater said, his tone cautious. "A League Two team that started the season with a thirty-point deduction. You'll probably be relegated to non-league football soon, Mr. Gao Bo."
"Yes, we were deducted thirty points," Gao Bo replied evenly, "but it's far too early to say we'll be relegated."
The quiet confidence in his eyes made Drinkwater hesitate. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond.
"Young man," Gao Bo said firmly, "come to my team. I know you — I've studied your game — and I know exactly how to use you. You're going to be loaned out anyway, aren't you?"
"I don't want to play in a non-league team," Drinkwater said after a pause.
Gao Bo smiled. That hesitation was all he needed.
"Then we'll add a clause," he said. "If Luton are relegated this season, you can leave immediately at the end of it."
Drinkwater thought for a moment. He was bound to go out on loan anyway, and this coach clearly believed in him. The fact that Gao Bo had come in person — instead of sending a scout — spoke volumes.
It was more sincerity than most clubs had shown.
"I agree, Mr. Gao Bo," Drinkwater said at last. "I don't mind being loaned to Luton."
Gao Bo's smile widened.
"You won't regret this decision, lad."
...
The loan agreement for Danny Drinkwater turned out to be simpler than expected.
Manchester United didn't put up any obstacles. After all, opportunities for young academy players to feature in the senior team were extremely limited. Sending them out on loan for experience was standard practice — and in this case, the player's own willingness was the deciding factor.
Luton submitted a formal loan request to Manchester United, seeking to bring Drinkwater in on a two-year deal. The contract included a clause: if Luton were relegated from League Two that season, the second year of the loan would automatically be cancelled.
After confirming Drinkwater's consent, Manchester United quickly approved the deal.
Luton only needed to cover his wages.
As a youth player, Drinkwater's salary was modest — just £1,500 per week — an affordable figure even for a financially strained club like Luton Town.
Gao Bo didn't personally handle the contract details; the club's legal adviser took care of the paperwork.
By the time the deal was finalised, Gao Bo was already in Basingstoke, a small town in southern England.
He was standing on the edge of a dusty brick yard, of all places. If he was right, this was where he would find the second player on his scouting list — Charlie Austin.
It was 2008.
In another year, Austin would make his breakthrough into professional football with Swindon Town, a Championship side at the time. Over two seasons there, he would score 31 goals in 54 matches, earning a move up from non-league football — specifically from Poole Town, a sixth-tier club.
If Gao Bo didn't interfere with history, Austin would first spend a season at Poole, scoring a staggering 48 goals in 42 games, before Swindon came calling.
This was a striker with a natural instinct for goal — sharp positioning, clean finishing, and relentless drive.
Later, under Harry Redknapp, Austin would join Queens Park Rangers and step onto the Premier League stage.
There, he would continue to shine — even finishing fourth in the 2014–15 Premier League Golden Boot race with 18 goals, recording 41 goals in 82 appearances during his three seasons with QPR.
This was the kind of story that inspired people — a tale of an amateur who dreamed his way into professional football.
For Gao Bo, Charlie Austin was the ideal striker for Luton Town.
First and foremost, there was ability. Austin absolutely had the quality to play in League Two. Gao Bo knew that within a year, the young Englishman would join a Championship side and maintain an impressive scoring record there.
And more importantly, signing him from an amateur club wouldn't cost much — a crucial factor given Luton's tiny transfer budget of only £200,000.
The scene around Gao Bo couldn't have been more different from a football pitch.
There were no walls, only open ground and swirling dust. Trucks loaded with bricks rumbled in and out, while workers laboured tirelessly amid the noise.
Standing there in his black leather shoes and formal coat, Gao Bo looked completely out of place. Drivers passing by slowed down, curious about the man who clearly didn't belong in a brick yard.
Not far away, Charlie Austin, nineteen years old, was stacking bricks one by one. His face was covered by a dust mask, and his movements were steady and precise — his concentration unbroken.
He would stay at the yard until three in the afternoon, then rush off to play for a local amateur team, where he was the main striker and the team's top scorer.
But this wasn't the life Charlie wanted. He longed to become a professional footballer, to step into a real stadium, to hear the roar of a crowd chanting his name.
The young bricklayer hadn't come from nowhere.
In 2005, at just fourteen, he joined Reading's youth academy. But within a year, the coaches released him — too small, they said. After that disappointment, Charlie joined his father's bricklaying business.
Every morning at six, he woke up on time, ate a simple breakfast, then travelled to construction sites around Basingstoke to lay bricks.
He returned home by six in the evening, but even after a long day of labour, he never abandoned football. After grabbing dinner in the back of a truck, he would rush to play night matches for amateur clubs.
Between 2005 and 2008, he played for Kintbury Rangers, Hungerford Town, and Thatcham Town — never giving up on his dream.
Seeing his son work so hard, Austin's father couldn't help but feel torn between pride and pity. Eventually, he allowed Charlie to finish work early — at 3 p.m. — so he could rest before his matches.
Charlie even spent a short period training with Bournemouth, though he didn't earn a contract. Still, the experience improved his game — his pace, movement, and awareness — and that only made his dream burn stronger.
Now, at nineteen, the young bricklayer stacked bricks with the same discipline he brought to football. Each brick placed neatly on the growing wall — like the wall of dreams he was building in his heart.
And just as he set the final brick in place, a co-worker came running, breathless and shouting.
"Charlie! There's a coach here — from a League Two club! He's asking for you!"
...
Inside a small shed at the brickyard, Gao Bo sat across from Charlie Austin and his father.
Old Austin eyed the young man suspiciously.
A Chinese?
A very young Chinese?
A very young Chinese claiming to be the head coach of Luton Town?
Did the Chinese even play football? Old Austin had never heard of a famous player from China. Perhaps Sun Jihai from Manchester City was a decent defender — but a head coach? From China? That was something he'd never imagined.
Cautious and experienced, the older Austin wasn't a man who trusted easily. And this stranger was asking to take his only son away to play for a club he barely knew.
Across from him, nineteen-year-old Charlie Austin could barely contain his excitement.
Luton Town was a Football League Two side — a professional club. Compared to his current team in the eighth-tier amateur league, this was an enormous leap.
The fact that a manager had personally come to find him meant one thing: they truly valued him.
This was it — the opportunity of a lifetime.
A chance to step into professional football.
A chance to turn his dream into reality.
In his heart, the wall of dreams he had been building for years grew higher and stronger. Nothing could stop him now.
Charlie glanced eagerly at his father, silently pleading for approval. But Old Austin still looked skeptical, his eyes fixed on the young Chinese man before them.
Meanwhile, Gao Bo quietly observed the second player he intended to recruit. Without revealing anything outwardly, he activated his system and opened Charlie Austin's attribute panel.
[Player Scan: Charlie Austin]
Position: Forward
Shooting: 76
Heading: 78
Off-the-ball Movement: 72
In other technical areas, most of his stats hovered above 60 — modest but respectable for an amateur player.
What truly caught Gao Bo's attention, however, were Austin's mental attributes:
Work Rate: 80
Teamwork: 76
Willpower: 88
Bravery: 86
Composure: 83
If one ignored his lack of pace and his technical shortcomings, Charlie Austin's mental qualities were nothing short of elite. In terms of mentality, this was the profile of a world-class forward.
Of course, Gao Bo also knew how Austin's real-life career would unfold — his progress would eventually plateau because of those technical limitations, keeping him a mid-tier Premier League striker rather than a top-tier star.
Even so, Gao Bo was more than satisfied with what he saw.
For a League Two side like Luton Town, Charlie Austin's attributes were extraordinary — practically a cheat code compared to the rest of the division.
"Are you really Luton's head coach?" Old Austin asked again, still doubtful.
"Yes," Gao Bo replied calmly. "I've watched many of Charlie's matches. He's a forward with great potential."
Old Austin frowned. "Are you sure you're the head coach?"
"Yes," Gao Bo said with a small smile. "If you don't believe me, take your time to think about it. I'll be waiting in Luton — but I'd advise you not to miss the league registration deadline."
Before his father could speak again, Charlie Austin leaned forward anxiously.
"I'm willing!" he said quickly. "I want to play for Luton! Please, Dad, let me go!"
"Charlie…" Old Austin sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
Gao Bo chuckled. "Uncle Austin, you don't have to take my word for it. Luton isn't far — you can come with Charlie and see it for yourself. Maybe you don't believe there's a Chinese coach named Gao Bo, but at least you'll see the Luton club does exist."
"Dad…" Charlie's voice was pleading, his eyes full of determination.
Old Austin hesitated for a moment, then finally exhaled and nodded. "Alright. I'll take him to Luton."
After all, compared to a life of stacking bricks, becoming a professional footballer was clearly a brighter path.
"We can even go today," Gao Bo suggested immediately. "It's not far."
Old Austin paused briefly, then gave another nod, unable to resist his son's eager gaze.
Gao Bo smiled. It was done — this deal was as good as sealed.
And indeed, after Old Austin confirmed that Gao Bo was genuine, Charlie Austin officially signed a four-year contract with Luton Town, earning a weekly wage of £5,000.
Luton also paid a £15,000 transfer fee to Hungerford Town, the small eighth-tier club that held Austin's registration.
With Austin secured, Gao Bo wasted no time. His next stop was Sheffield, another city in England — the home of his third target.
There, he planned to recruit another future Premier League story — Jamie Vardy.
The tale of Vardy was well-known in football lore: a man who rose from the amateur ranks to become a Premier League Golden Boot winner and title champion.
But in 2008, that story hadn't begun yet.
At twenty-one, Vardy was working as a mason for a construction company and playing part-time for Stocksbridge Park Steels, a club in the Northern Premier League Division One South, England's eighth tier.
He trained twice a week and earned a small £30 match bonus for each game.
So when Gao Bo approached him with an offer to join Luton, Vardy didn't hesitate for a second.
"Jamie," Gao Bo said with a grin, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you and I will create a miracle — I promise you that."
He knew what Vardy would become in the future. Perhaps it was a sense of guilt — for altering that destiny — that made him speak so earnestly.
But inside, Gao Bo was certain:
Premier League champion? I'll get there.
He whispered the words silently to himself, standing on the modest grounds of a fourth-division club.
Vardy, unaware of the weight behind the promise, simply smiled and nodded.
"I'll work hard, coach!"
...
The very next day after signing Vardy, Gao Bo flew to France. His destination: Paris, where he intended to recruit a seventeen-year-old French midfielder named N'Golo Kanté, then playing for the amateur club JS Suresnes.
On a modest training pitch on the outskirts of the city, Gao Bo finally met the young man.
This quiet, reserved teenager couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
A Chinese coach — claiming to manage an English League Two club — wanted to take him to England?
To England… to play football?
For a seventeen-year-old still studying and playing part-time for a local amateur side, it sounded almost unreal. And yet, the temptation of joining a professional team — of chasing the dream — was far too great to resist.
Across from him, Gao Bo studied the young midfielder carefully, a satisfied glint in his eyes.
He activated the system and opened Kanté's player attributes.
[Player Scan: N'Golo Kanté]
Position: Defensive Midfielder
Tackling: 82
Defensive Positioning: 76
Anticipation: 77
Stamina: 80
Just that tackling rating alone made Gao Bo grin in admiration.
This was only a seventeen-year-old. In two or three years, his numbers would rise even higher — and Gao Bo knew exactly where that would lead.
It was completely reasonable that this humble, hard-working teenager would one day become one of the best defensive midfielders in the world.
Kanté's compact build, focus, and relentless energy already stood out. The attributes spoke for themselves — endurance and intelligence that belied his age.
No wonder this short, unassuming young man would one day dominate midfields across Europe.
In the end, the lure of professional football proved too strong. The seventeen-year-old Kanté agreed to Gao Bo's offer and signed a four-year contract with Luton Town.
With that signing, Gao Bo had done it — he had assembled four players who would all one day shine in the Premier League: Drinkwater, Austin, Vardy, and Kanté.
Looking ahead to the new League Two season, Gao Bo felt an unshakable surge of confidence.
If not for that thirty-point deduction, he thought, winning the league title wouldn't be impossible at all.
The thought made him smile — tinged with just a hint of regret.