I Just Wanted to Play Soccer, But I Became a Hollywood Heartthrob

Gu Ran heard the familiar system notification ring in his mind.

Ding—

"Host has acquired a professional football skill from an enriched bubble: Free Kick – Curving Moon Slash +1. Today's collection progress: 10/10."

Hell yes!

It was exactly what he wanted—Curving Moon Slash!

Today's collection was perfect! He had secured both Precision Long Pass and the legendary free-kick technique!

Scenes of Beckham's signature free kicks played in slow motion in Gu Ran's mind, each detail etched into his memory.

At the same time, he could feel subtle yet real changes in his legs—stronger muscles, more flexible joints, and an enhanced sense of balance in his ankles and knees.

Today's haul was complete.

Gu Ran, ever composed, turned to Beckham, who was still wallowing in his emotions. "Come on, Beckham, don't be too upset. At least your commercial is done."

Beckham froze. "What? Done? Weren't we just testing it?"

Gu Ran smiled. "No need for retakes. My filming style is all about capturing raw, natural moments. Trust me, your free kicks in that unplanned setting were more spectacular than anything we could have scripted. You and the director should check the playback."

Beckham immediately rushed to the stationary camera while the director hurried over to join him.

The moment the footage played, the director gasped. "Incredible! Absolutely incredible! Whether you believe it or not, I was just about to suggest shooting it this way. Looks like the higher-ups sent us a real pro! Beckham, this is it! No reshoots necessary—one take is all we need!"

Beckham wiped his tears and beamed. "Director, this is all thanks to that young cameraman! He's the one who fired me up! Wait, where is he? Someone find him—I have to thank him properly!"

The entire crew scrambled to locate Gu Ran.

But he had long since slipped away while Beckham was distracted, ditching his wig and fake mustache, swapping out his vest, and vanishing without a trace.

Just as he got into a taxi, his phone buzzed with an eye-popping notification.

William Hill Betting Company has transferred £86,000 to your account.

The payout was in!

Gu Ran calmly opened the betting app, randomly picked another match, and placed a £1,000 bet on the highest possible upset outcome.

He already knew this match was a lock, meaning he was guaranteed to lose the bet.

But that was exactly the plan.

He had to keep losing—tomorrow, the day after, and for at least ten matches in a row.

Every time, he would bet on the most unlikely upsets, reinforcing his identity as someone who only bets on dark horses.

After a few well-placed losses, when he finally placed a bet on a real upset, the betting company wouldn't find anything suspicious.

As for the remaining £70,000? That was his to enjoy.

Just as he stepped out of the taxi, ready to drop his bag off at home, his uncle, Andrew, appeared out of nowhere, dragging him conspiratorially to a corner.

Gu Ran frowned. "Uncle, what's going on?"

Andrew smoothed down his sparse, wispy hair with the dignity of a man who still had faith in his receding hairline. "Gu, tonight is the Manchester United vs. Liverpool grudge match. Tell me—what's your bet?"

Gu Ran chuckled. "Uncle, last time was pure beginner's luck. I just got lucky."

Andrew squinted. "Gu, have I ever treated you unfairly? Every weekend, I have Aunt Sally make you lamb kidney pie. You owe me, kid. Now spill—did you place a bet or not?"

Gu Ran sighed. "Yeah, I did…"

Andrew's eyes lit up. "How did you bet? Come on, tell me!"

Gu Ran shook his head. "Uncle, I placed a completely random bet. There's no way it's going to hit. You should definitely not copy me."

Andrew let out a dramatic sigh. "Gu, we're practically brothers. And this is how you treat me? Keeping secrets?"

Gu Ran had no choice. "Fine… I placed a three-part accumulator. United leads at halftime, Torres scores a hat trick, and the final score is 2-5. The odds are 275 to 1."

Andrew's wispy hairs nearly stood on end. "What?! That's complete nonsense! That's just reckless betting!"

Gu Ran exhaled in relief. "See? I told you!"

Andrew stroked his few remaining strands of hair, deep in thought. "United leading at halftime makes sense, sure. But Liverpool making a comeback at Old Trafford? United is top of the league, and Liverpool is barely fighting for the top six! And 1-5? Five goals in one half? Torres was great last season, but he's been out of form lately—he's practically playing like a center-back! And you think he'll score a hat trick?"

Gu Ran grinned. "Exactly, Uncle. That's why I'm saying don't follow my bet. Someone as knowledgeable as you, a betting master, can instantly tell that I'm just making a joke bet."

Andrew sucked in a deep breath. "But… last time, you had a feeling, and it hit! And this situation feels eerily similar… You know what? I'm in. Football betting is all about going against logic—'Bet against reason, and you'll have a mansion by the sea!'"

Gu Ran froze. "What do you mean, it's similar? It's completely different! Last time was last time! This time is—wait, Uncle, hold on!"

Andrew clapped his shoulder. "Kid, I believe in you! Chinese people always have that mysterious sixth sense!"

Gu Ran felt his soul leave his body. "Uncle, listen to me. This time, I really have no feeling. I just made a random bet!"

Andrew laughed. "Nonsense! I have faith in you!"

Gu Ran facepalmed. "Uncle, didn't you say you only had £1,000 of spare cash? You're just betting a small amount this time, right?"

If it was just a casual £30 or £50 bet, losing wouldn't be a big deal.

Andrew gave him a knowing smirk. "Gu, my boy, when you get to my age, you'll learn never to reveal your true finances. I actually have another £1,000. And you better not tell Aunt Sally."

Gu Ran's jaw nearly hit the floor.

Holy sht.*

Panic set in. "Uncle, seriously! Don't do this! My bet is absolute nonsense! You're going to lose all £1,000!"

Andrew frowned. "Gu, are you mocking me? Is this revenge for when I told you last time your bet would never win? Is that it?"

Gu Ran was speechless.

Andrew clapped his hands. "Alright! I'm placing my bet. 275 times the odds! Do you know what that means? If I win, I'll make £275,000! I've already planned my celebration dinner! Gu, no more lamb kidney pie—we're having Gorgonzola cheese with fish head biscuits!"

The mention of "Gorgonzola cheese" made Gu Ran's stomach churn.

Oh, hell no.

"Uncle, I have things to do this afternoon. I won't be home for dinner."

"What a shame! How about after the match? Perfect timing for a victory meal!" Andrew grinned.

Gu Ran immediately countered, "Actually, I'll be out really late. Don't wait up for me."

Andrew sighed. "That's unfortunate. Want me to save some for you?"

"No, no, no! Really, Uncle, I insist—please don't!"

Andrew chuckled. "Alright, kid, go do your thing."

Gu Ran quickly escaped to his room, dropped off his vest, freshened up, and stepped outside.

As soon as he did, he found Sophie standing on the staircase, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"What were you and my dad whispering about in the corner just now?"