Chapter Three: The Last-Place Club's Secret Adviser

No one knew that the man who had turned the game sat at the least important desk in the park. Afterward, Tang added a handwritten clause to Cheng's contract: attendance at tactical meetings, win bonus doubled. “What's his title?” a coach asked. “Special Language Adviser,” Tang decided. Gao laughed. “Secret Adviser sounds better.” Only Lin did not smile. After the others left, she placed a sheet before Cheng. It listed the times of his seventeen instructions. Beside each was the same number. Ten seconds. “Luck doesn't arrive exactly ten seconds early every time,” she said. Before Cheng could answer, static crackled from an old headset on the desk. Its power cable was disconnected. A strange man's voice came through the foam earpiece.