An Upgrade in Insight and Perception! The Christmas Fixtures Kept Coming!

When Chivu asked the question, Tang Long looked up at the heavy snow falling all around him.

Snowflakes fell softly, blanketing the already gloomy Manchester sky, turning it a hazy gray.

"Are you kidding, Mr. Chivu? I estimate there must be at least several hundred snowflakes!"

Tang Long answered casually, but Chivu took it seriously.

"Specifically, the football struck 2,453 ice crystals, and the airflow as it passed through the air altered the falling trajectory of 3,489 surrounding snowflakes."

Chivu held the snow-covered football in both hands.

Some of the snowflakes melted from the warmth of his black plush gloves, soaking Chivu's hands where they rested in his palms.

Tang Long knew Chivu wouldn't lie to him, but the number, accurate to the single digit, truly captivated him.

Recalling yesterday's match, in the [Fly Eye] Beta test version, I saw the pores and hairs on the faces of the opponent's two center-backs, as well as the beads of sweat about to be flicked off the goalkeeper's forehead, which was enough to amaze me. But compared to what Chivu just said, it was nothing.

"Don't be surprised. With your current abilities, you still need to start with the most basic training."

"Remember, keen visual perception, which allows you to accurately judge the distance and speed of the ball, can help you discover many hidden opportunities on the ever-changing field."

"Perception—you need to improve not only your predictions, but also your depth of perception."

Chivu returned to the other end of the pitch.

Soon, he kicked three soccer balls in a row.

Tang Long stared wide-eyed at the snow-covered landscape, his mind filled with images of footballs striking snowflakes.

Chivu's high balls were light and airy, but each one hit Tang Long's forehead with pinpoint accuracy.

Afterwards, Chivu led Tang Long to a small room in the training ground.

The two first brushed the snowflakes off their clothes, then Chivu turned off all the lights in the room and drew down the thick blackout curtains, turning the small room into a dark, secret chamber.

Please look at the screen.

When Chivu clicked on the computer screen, a whole page of densely packed Marseille immediately appeared.

These Marseille, like a Rubik's Cube covering the entire screen, with their colorful patterns, rhythmically jump and move, making people dizzy and even a little lightheaded.

"In the compound eyes of a fly, each ommatidia can form an image independently. The object it sees is like Marseille image composed of hundreds of identical images. It can quickly perceive the overall outline, movement, and positional changes of an object, thus effectively carrying out activities such as navigation, foraging, and avoiding predators."

"Think about why it's so difficult to catch a fly with your palm, and you'll understand."

Tang Long laughed and said, "So, Mr. Chivu, you want to turn me into a fly on the football field?"

"No, you certainly won't be a fly, but you can become as elusive as a fly, sensing your opponent's movements instantly and escaping pressure and encirclement."

There are approximately a thousand Marseille squares on the computer screen, of which about one-sixth are blue.

These blue squares kept jumping, weaving, and flashing among the other squares—red, green, yellow, black, and white.

Following Chivu's instructions, Tang Long focused his attention as much as possible on the blue squares.

After half an hour of training, they felt a wave of dizziness. Chivu stopped the training, opened the curtains, and the room was bright again.

"I feel this is similar to my [Chess Insight] ability, which also involves dividing the playing field into many squares."

"No, [Chess Insight] improves your perception of the game space, while [Fly Eye] trains your perception of the movement and speed between the ball and players."

A small town in southern Italy, reminiscent of Venezia.

In Venezia during winter, a chilly atmosphere hangs over the town like a veil.

The canal's surface shimmered with a cool light, like a giant mirror, reflecting the outlines of the ancient buildings on both banks.

Diletta's grandmother's red house, near the stream, stands quietly on the riverbank.

The walls of the house are a dark red that has been stained by time, as if they have been dyed by the passage of years.

The walls were somewhat mottled, the roof tiles were uneven, and a few withered yellow vines hung down from the eaves, swaying gently in the cold wind.

The house had small windows, and a thin layer of mist covered the glass. Through them, only a blurry yellow light could be seen inside, which was quite cozy.

Diletta, who had returned to Venezia from London for Christmas, quickly tied up her blonde hair and spent the afternoon cleaning her grandmother's red house near the canal. Then she put on an apron and cooked a sumptuous dinner for two.

Diletta's grandmother is over seventy years old and has elegant short white hair.

Her figure is very similar to Diletta's; from her slightly hunched yet still slender body, one can vaguely see the charm of her youth.

After slurping down two mouthfuls of delicious Italy spaghetti, Grandma pulled down her reading glasses and glanced at her granddaughter.

"My dear child, I'm telling you, you're not getting any younger. Christmas has come again, and you still haven't brought your boyfriend to meet me. When are you finally going to get married? Sigh, at your age, your mother could already be running errands."

Diletta smiled, remained silent, and slowly ate Italy pasta.

Occasionally, she would rest her head on her hand and look at the scenery outside the window.

A cold wind blew, rippling the water's surface. In the distance, a small bridge spanned the canal, and a few pedestrians occasionally hurried across it with their heads down.

Seeing that Diletta remained silent, Grandma leaned forward and tentatively asked:

"I heard that you've been spending time with a young China man who plays football in UK lately. Is that true?"

Diletta asked curiously, "Grandma, where did you hear this fake news?"

When she denied it, her grandmother immediately became agitated.

"Oh, don't deny it. It was Grandma Erica who lives next door who told me. You never bring anyone to see for me. I always have to ask you. I'm so annoyed by your constant nagging."

"Then how did Grandma Erica know?" Diletta countered with her grandmother's question.

"Your Grandma Erica said that Grandma Sharon told her about it; she said she saw it in the newspaper."

"Kid, I know those soccer players are all tall and handsome, and spirited young men, but don't be fooled by them. These kids love to play; they're not good men."

"If you ask me, you're not getting any younger, you should be more realistic."

Diletta looked up at her grandmother, and without having to guess, she knew what her grandmother was going to say next.

"You know Grandpa Taylor's house at the top of our town, right? Grandpa Taylor watched you grow up. His grandson, Emerson, is a civil servant in the Venezia local transportation department. He's not married yet. How about I set you two up?"

"Taylor's grandson Emerson? Maybe not, Grandma..."

Diletta choked on her noodles, almost bursting out laughing.

She hesitated, unsure how to explain this to her conservative grandmother.

Yesterday, she had just returned to the town of Venezia from London. On the first day of her Christmas holiday, she ran into her childhood friend Emerson on the street.

To her surprise, while Emerson greeted her warmly, his other hand was linked with the arm of a young man, and the two appeared quite intimate.

Grandma thought that Diletta looked down on Taylor's grandson because he was too old, and she started nagging him in an annoyed tone.

"Are you saying Grandpa Taylor's grandson is too old at 35? Sigh, aren't you 29? When I was your age, your mother was already old enough to run errands. Honestly, what kind of world is this? Young people don't like to get married anymore. At this rate, will I ever see you holding a child in my lifetime? Sigh!"

In a small town in southern Italy, family values remain conservative.

Pressure to get married is an inescapable issue for young people like Diletta.

But each time, Diletta would use her busy work at the television station as an excuse to avoid it.

"Work, work, all you ever talk about is work. A girl has to get married eventually. The better you do in your career, the fewer men you'll be interested in. Your grandma has been through this, and there are some things you need to listen to."

During these Christmas holidays, my grandma keeps nagging me whenever she has a spare moment.

At first, Diletta could tolerate it;

As I listened, I became increasingly annoyed.

"Dear Grandma, the TV station has given me a job, so I have to go back to London first. I left you 3,000 euros under your pillow in your bedroom. Buy as many cakes as you like, don't be stingy. I'm off now!"

On the morning of December 29th, after staying at home for four days, Diletta, wearing a thick down jacket, boarded a wooden boat under a small bridge in the water town and left.

Instead of returning to London, she immediately bought a plane ticket to Manchester.

As soon as the plane landed, he sent Tang Long a text message.

[Get me a ticket to your home game against Bournemouth; I want to see you play.]

[Huh? You're not going out to have fun for Christmas, but watching a game? Have you had enough of your job as a reporter? Have you gone crazy from working so hard?]

[Yes, I didn't get enough. I'm stupid.]

[Sure! Would you like a VIP room?]

No need, a regular ticket is fine.