Cheshire.
At Ferguson's home.
The old man wore glasses and held a soft cloth, gently wiping a row of framed photographs on the bookshelf. They were ten team photos of the Red Devils lifting trophies under Li Luo's leadership across the two seasons since he had returned to Manchester United.
From the six-trophy haul of 2016 to the title defenses of 2017.
In every photo, Li Luo stood front and center.
His smile had gone from boyish to assured, his bearing from exuberant to composed. But the confidence in his eyes had never changed.
Jack asked curiously, "Sir, it's been days. Why do you wipe them every day? You're even more excited than when you won trophies yourself!"
Ferguson was silent for a few seconds.
Then he snorted.
He turned, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. As though something had just occurred to him, he said mildly, "Oh, that girlfriend of Li's..."
"They haven't made it official. She's not his girlfriend! Just a friend who happens to be a girl."
Jack corrected him, though he had no idea which girl Ferguson meant.
But that didn't matter.
Tom had told him that, given Li's personality, he would never become a pushover a girl could wrap around her finger.
More importantly, Li didn't regularly see any one girl.
What did that tell you?
Li was in charge of his love life too.
A man like that would never turn into a wreck.
Altrincham Manor.
Rain drizzled steadily outside.
After breakfast, Li Luo sat down on the sofa and turned on the television.
He flipped through several channels.
Nothing caught his interest. Every channel was reporting on his successful title defense and the victory parade.
Manchester United had already broken up for the summer. Over the past two days, Ancelotti