After Paris Saint-Germain was removed from the list, I led England to victory!

(Regarding the romance plot, Tomato Novels has a keyword search function in its table of contents. If you don't like romance plots, just search for the keyword "Lin Jianwei" and then skip to the next chapter.)

Early October night, Imperial College London, South Kensington campus.

This is the Thames River, not far from the campus.

Lin Jianwei sat alone on the cold bench by the river, her back ramrod straight, yet she looked weak as if her bones had been removed.

Her gaze was fixed on the blurry, flickering lights on the opposite bank of the river, but her eyes were unfocused.

The interview that ended an hour ago left her head buzzing; all that remained were a jumble of fragments and a tinnitus-like echo.

This interview was for an internship at Goldman Sachs' London office.

In the final interview room, behind the large walnut wood table, large enough to reflect one's image, five interviewers calmly yet penetratingly scrutinized each other.

One professional question after another, each one interconnected and pressing in relentlessly.

From the underlying algorithms of cutting-edge financial derivatives pricing models to exploring the potential applications of quantum computing in risk modeling, and simulating the path of systemic financial risks triggered by the extremely fragile global supply chain network...

Each question is like a carefully designed trap, testing the limits of your knowledge, the resilience of your logical thinking, and your reaction speed under intense pressure.

During the interview, Lin Jianwei remained calm and composed for most of the time, demonstrating clear thinking and solid data and research.

But just as it was nearing its end, one of the interviewers who had remained silent suddenly spoke up.

Suddenly, a tricky question was posed, which delves into a theoretical ambiguity in the framework of her thesis that is not yet fully self-consistent.

As she was explaining, a key term suddenly caught in her throat under pressure, her mind momentarily frozen, though it was only a two-second blank.

But the sharp judgment that flashed in the director's eyes seemed to give her a bad review.

"We'll be in touch." The interviewer's formulaic closing remark was polite yet distant.

As Lin Jianwei stepped out of the interview room, the London night wind blew against her face, and she realized that her back was covered in a cold sweat.

She planned to walk home alone.

After the interview, I was exhausted and disappointed.

This exhaustion stems not only from that high-pressure one-hour interview, but also from the culmination of weeks of relentless, high-intensity work.

The heavy coursework of her postgraduate studies at Imperial College London, the almost demanding teaching assistant work she was in charge of that required high standards from undergraduates, and the sheer volume of cutting-edge papers and mock cases she had to cram into to polish her resume and prepare for interviews...

All of these things came crashing down at that moment.

Tonight, Lin Jianwei didn't want to go back to that small, quiet apartment to face the pile of draft papers on the table and the modeling software on the computer screen.

She just wanted to be here, in this deep night, to let the wind blow away some of the confusion in her mind, even if it was just a little bit.

Coincidentally.

A black Mercedes-AMG with a very dynamic design drove by.

In the driver's seat, today was supposed to be Yan Yuan's rest day before his UEFA Nations League match.

He took advantage of his day off to go back to the Imperial College data center to check a newly published reference by a professor.

Because the investigation took a long time, I got back a little late.

As he turned, his headlights swept across a bench by the river, where a figure could be seen.

Familiar hairstyle, familiar back view.

"Hmm...why does this look familiar?"

He examined it for a while longer before slowly confirming that it was Lin Jianwei.

That aloof senior student in the library who solved his algorithm problem with just a few words.

But at this moment, Lin Jianwei, curled up in a thick wool coat, looked at the Thames River, and his usual almost intimidating confidence and coldness had completely disappeared.

The streetlights outlined the delicate yet forlorn shape of her nose, her long eyelashes drooping, her eyes vacant beneath the light.

An extremely oppressive sense of weariness and frustration emanated from her.

Yan Yuan almost thought he had mistaken someone for someone else.

But the athlete's innate keen observation skills instantly captured the details.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her hands, resting on her knees, were clasped tightly together, her knuckles turning slightly white.

At this moment, Lin Jianwei was neither Professor Chris's capable teaching assistant nor a genius student.

Instead, she is a young girl who has been hit hard by the weight of reality and is temporarily unable to find her balance.

Yan Yuan quietly pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it.

The car door opened and closed, and the sound of footsteps was particularly clear on the quiet riverbank.

Yan Yuan did not sit down next to her directly, but stopped a few steps away.

"Senior? Is that you?" His voice was very soft, with a hint of uncertainty.

Lin Jianwei looked up abruptly as if startled, her eyes flashing with surprise, disbelief, and a hint of embarrassment at being caught in the act.

In the dim light, Yan Yuan could see clearly that her eyes were slightly red, though she quickly suppressed it with composure.

She quickly adjusted her posture, as if trying to regain her impeccable image.

"Yan Yuan?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, almost imperceptibly. "What a coincidence." She tried to force a polite smile, but her lips twitched weakly before she gave up, her gaze instinctively averting.

"I...I'm fine, I was just...sitting by the river."

The air fell silent for a few seconds.

Yan Yuan did not leave, nor did he say any polite words.

He glanced at the empty seat next to her, walked over naturally, and sat down beside her.

However, he maintained a just-right distance, a space where neither of them would feel disturbed.

He didn't turn to look at her, nor did he ask anything. He simply watched the blurry light and shadow on the opposite bank in silence, just like her.

The night breeze from the Thames carried the fishy smell of water as it caressed the two of them.

The faint rumble of city traffic in the distance only served to accentuate the tranquility of the place.

The prolonged silence actually made both of them more and more relaxed.

The tension in her body gradually dissipated in the silence.

After an unknown amount of time, perhaps softened by the silent embrace of the night, or perhaps the accumulated fatigue and frustration finally broke down the dam of pride.

Lin Jianwei didn't look at Yan Yuan. Her lips parted slightly, and her voice was very soft and low, more like a murmur to the cold air, filled with vulnerability.

It was unclear whether she was speaking to herself or to Yan Yuan.

She kept repeating it.

"My interview... I messed it up... I feel... I didn't answer that last question well..."

The moment the words left her lips, Lin Jianwei was startled by her own choked sob. She bit her lower lip hard, forcing back the even stronger soreness in her throat.

She turned her face slightly to the side, her fingers gripping the fabric of her coat tightly around her knees.

This was the first time Yan Yuan had seen her vulnerability.

She is no longer the aloof, cold beauty who solves problems with sharp insight, but a girl who feels wronged and powerless because she failed to achieve the expected results after her hard work.

This stark contrast.

It was more impactful to Yan Yuan than any words.

Yan Yuan turned his head to look at the taut curve of her beautifully contoured profile.

The dim light shone on Lin Jianwei's face; she seemed to have cried not long ago.

Otherwise, why would the area around my eyes be so red?

Yan Yuan showed no surprise; his gaze was focused and gentle.

"Senior," he began, his voice calm and gentle, like a falling feather.

"Top financial companies, their final interviews are designed to pick the best out of everyone; the questions aren't meant for everyone to answer."

As he spoke, Yan Yuan's voice softened, carrying a composure that seemed unusual for his age.

"Even if you didn't answer that question, what you showed in your previous answers has already explained a great deal."

He didn't just say "you are excellent" in a vague way, but pointed out the essence of the cruel selection process.

Lin Jianwei shifted slightly, seemingly surprised by his junior's evaluation.

Yan Yuan turned his head and looked at the river, continuing to speak in that calm tone.

"Sometimes, even if you try your best, you can't always completely control the outcome. I feel this most deeply on the court."

Yan Yuan didn't look at her reaction; he was simply sharing a mundane experience.

"Last season's Champions League semi-final, we played Real Madrid at the Bernabéu. The game was intense and close, we played our part, and we gave it our all... but the last goal before the 90th minute was offside, and all our efforts were in vain. That feeling was truly..."

Yan Yuan chuckled self-deprecatingly, seemingly savoring the bitterness.

"And then there was the World Cup this summer, the knockout match where I represented England against Croatia. The whole team was playing like crazy, running all over the field. I think our passing and movement was the best game my national team ever played."

They scored within the first twenty minutes... but still couldn't hold on, and the opponent tenaciously equalized, ultimately leading to an extra time loss.

Yan Yuan let out a soft breath.

"The moment we lost, all the sweat and plans seemed to have been wasted. I lay on the grass, my mind blank, and I felt... there was an invisible wall between the effort and the outcome."

"Senior, what I want to say is that it is the motivation to pursue a good result that makes the effort meaningful, even if the final result may not be satisfactory after the effort."

Football is like that, and so is life; this is my understanding of life.

Yan Yuan's words were neither a passionate consolation nor a condescending lecture.

He simply laid out calmly the contrast between the equally unforgettable efforts and disappointments he had experienced in another field.

The immense pressure of top-level competitions, the pinnacle of tactical execution, the near-death experiences after giving everything...

These words, narrated by a young man who has truly experienced the brutal baptism of top-level competition, carry a sense of authenticity.

This sense of realism is exactly the resonance that Lin Jianwei needs deep in her heart at this moment.

Her setbacks, her efforts, her resentment

This is not an isolated case, nor does it signify failure itself.

Yan Yuan's calm words, like a warm current, seeped into Lin Jianwei's weary heart.

The cold stone that had been pressing on his chest seemed to have been gently pried open, leaving a small crack.

Her shoulders, which had been tense, relaxed almost imperceptibly.

She finally turned her head slowly to look at Yan Yuan sitting next to her.

In the dim light, the distinct lines of his profile were sculpted with exceptional clarity by the interplay of light and shadow.

He has prominent brow bones, a straight and high nose bridge, and a sharp jawline that gives him a calm and reliable appearance.

The usual flamboyance and sharpness of football superstars have now settled into a restrained warmth and peaceful inclusiveness under the glow of the streetlights.

This composure created a striking contrast with Yan Yuan's 18 years of age.

Lin Jianwei gazed at him quietly, the frost in her eyes shattering and melting away.

That wall she built around her heart to isolate herself from the world and to arm herself.

On this slightly cool riverbank, in front of this 18-year-old sports star she once regarded as "all show and no substance," she quietly collapsed.

Lin Jianwei quickly looked away, lowered her head, and unconsciously twirled a thin thread at the hem of her coat. Her voice was clearer than before, but still a little hoarse.

"Thank you... thank you, Yan Yuan. I've never heard you say these things before, and I never expected you to say them..."

Yan Yuan finally turned his head, met her gaze, and revealed a very faint but bright smile.

"What's so surprising about that? Studying and competing are the same; some experiences can actually help you improve."

Yan Yuan raised his hand and looked at the luminous hands on his watch; the hour hand was already pointing to 9:30.

"But it's getting late, senior," he stood up, his tone casual, "it's windy and cold here at night, shall I take you home?"

Lin Jianwei did not refuse, nodded slightly, and stood up.

"Then... I'll have to trouble you."

Her voice was very soft.

The two got into the car.

Today, the sound of the car engine starting was a bit lower than usual.

Yan Yuan drove smoothly towards the single apartment near Imperial College London that Lin Jianwei had rented, following the directions Lin Jianwei had given him.

The two of them barely spoke the rest of the way; the atmosphere was one of exhaustion and a subtle, unspoken tension.

The car stopped in front of her apartment building.

Lin Jianwei unbuckled his seatbelt and said softly.

"This is it, thank you, Yan Yuan."

Yan Yuan turned to look at her. The faint light from the window illuminated her face, which still showed some weariness but was no longer ashen.

"Don't overthink it, senior. Get some rest tonight. The interview results aren't out yet, and everything is still up in the air."

Yan Yuan spoke earnestly, his tone gentle yet firm, carrying a peculiar power of reassurance.

"Yes, I know." Lin Jian slightly raised her chin, trying to regain some of her usual calm demeanor, but a faint blush subtly crept onto her cheeks.

"Thank you so much for tonight... um... drive carefully on your way home."

"Okay, thank you, senior. Goodnight then." Yan Yuan smiled as he watched her open the car door and disappear into the apartment building.

Yan Yuan only started the car and drove away after the foyer light turned on and off.

The Mercedes-Benz logo blends into the London nightscape, while in the rearview mirror, the lights of South Kensington glitter like a galaxy.

On the riverside bench tonight, he saw a rare vulnerable side of Lin Jianwei.

But Yan Yuan knew that the sharp-minded and aloof Senior Lin would definitely "come back".

A warm current called understanding has quietly flowed across the shores of their hearts without them even realizing it.