Chapter 6 – Come to London with Me!

Chapter 6 – Come to London with Me!

Yang Cheng had already laid it out so clearly that unless Damir Vrbanović had no interest in forming a relationship with him, it would've been difficult to say no.

And judging by everything Yang Cheng had said up to this point, Vrbanović's impression of him was that of someone far beyond his years—someone intimately familiar with European football, especially the inner circle of its major players.

So without hesitation, Vrbanović agreed on the spot.

After making a quick phone call to Mamić, he returned with confirmation: Yang Cheng could take Luka Modrić, and the transfer fee would be quite reasonable.

2.5 million kuna.

That was around €350,000, or 3.5 million RMB.

Converted to pounds, it was £230,000.

This was the power of exchange rates.

In Croatia, paying 2.5 million kuna for an underperforming young player like Modrić was actually a decent price.

But in euros or pounds, it was a bargain.

However, a new issue immediately arose: How would Modrić even be able to play in England?

Mamić, with his background in football agency, knew the process and promised full cooperation.

The only hiccup: even though Bayswater Chinese FC was only in League Two, foreign players still required a work permit.

Croatia wasn't part of the EU yet, and Modrić hadn't played for the national team, so he didn't qualify.

But when Mamić brought this up, Yang Cheng simply smiled cryptically.

"Don't worry. I'll find a way to get the work permit. All I'll need from you, Damir, is a small favor at the right time."

Both Mamić and Vrbanović were surprised.

Yang Cheng had only been in Zagreb for two days. This deal wasn't even a big one—more like testing the waters.

But everything Yang Cheng did felt unpredictable and full of mystery.

Maybe this was just the start—and the real business was still to come.

So both Mamić and Vrbanović pledged to fully cooperate.

Yang Cheng didn't explain further.

This was something he'd learned in his past life dealing with agents:

Always maintain control of the situation.

Otherwise, these vampires would strip you to the bone.

…

After the deal was done, Yang Cheng found time to speak privately with Modrić.

If Modrić had looked thin on the training ground, then meeting him off the pitch made it abundantly clear why Dinamo didn't think much of him.

He was painfully skinny.

Of course, Dinamo's doubt was relative.

Modrić had still been selected for youth national teams at every level.

But he was never a starter.

This was the dilemma that had haunted his early career: How do you use a player like him?

His technique was fantastic, his touch and control were rock-solid—but he lacked speed, and his dribbling was average.

Put him on the wing? He had no real threat.

Put him in the middle? As a traditional No. 10, he was too short, too slight, too weak—how could he survive?

Traditional No. 10s that fans adored were either powerhouses like Zidane and Gullit, with strong physiques and elegant technique…

Or they were small but explosive talents like Maradona, Aimar, and Platini—quick, skillful, full of flair.

Modrić was neither.

And even in the years to come—after he'd shined at the Euros and proven himself in the Premier League—he would still face similar doubts at Real Madrid.

But Yang Cheng knew how to use him.

In his previous life, when he took over Real Madrid, the very first player he brought in was Modrić.

He built his midfield around the Croatian.

Though Yang Cheng never won a title with Madrid, the tactical structure and lineup he built became the foundation for Madrid's later dominance—the squad that dethroned Barça's Dream Team III and won three straight Champions Leagues.

Even years after Yang Cheng left Madrid, Modrić would still call him regularly.

So he knew exactly how to speak to the young Croatian now sitting in front of him.

"I believe you're very aware of your current situation," Yang Cheng said.

"Listen, Luka, you have two choices right now."

"First—you stay. You remain in Zagreb, grind away with the reserves. But you know what that means."

"Second—be brave. Take a risk. Embrace a new challenge."

Modrić had always been smart, always reflective. Even at a young age, he knew what he wanted.

That was rare.

So Yang Cheng didn't sugarcoat it. He told the truth.

"If you want to take a chance, there's Bosnia—you could go on loan. The upside? You'd have some support there."

"Or—come to England."

"We're only in League Two, sure. But it's still a step up from the Bosnian league."

"More importantly, our goal is to reach the Premier League in two years. And when that day comes…"

Yang Cheng looked straight into Modrić's youthful face, eyes firm.

"Luka, my friend—when that day comes, you'll be 20 years old, and you'll be a full-fledged Premier League starter."

At those words, Modrić's eyes lit up.

The Premier League, even then, was only Europe's third-ranked league.

But to a Croatian boy, it was still one of the biggest stages imaginable.

More than that—if he made it, he'd be called up to the national team, earn a lucrative contract, and his family's entire life would change—his parents, his two sisters, all of them.

That was why he played football, wasn't it?

Clearly, Modrić was moved.

But he quickly regained his composure and looked at Yang Cheng with a gaze far more mature than his age.

"Sir, you probably don't know this," he said quietly. "After primary school, I enrolled in a vocational school for tourism and hospitality. I worked as a trainee waiter at a seaside restaurant in Zadar. Everyone said I was good at pouring wine."

Yang Cheng listened closely.

"When I came to Zagreb, I kept studying. I went to night school—hotel management."

"But I've never told anyone this—I hate washing dishes. I don't like pouring wine. And I especially don't like bowing and scraping to hotel guests."

"But I had no choice."

"I had to reassure my parents—make them believe that even if I couldn't make it in football, I could still find a job and support them."

Then Modrić looked up suddenly, eyes locked onto Yang Cheng's.

"But, sir, only I know the truth—I only have football left."

"I have to make it. I don't have any other options. Do you understand?"

Yang Cheng was stunned for a moment—then he nodded.

Yes. This was the Modrić he knew.

The resilient, unyielding, never-say-die midfield engine.

"I understand, Luka. Come to London with me."

Yang Cheng extended the invitation again.

"I promise you—one day, you'll look back on this decision with nothing but pride!"

…

According to Modrić, his parents had already entrusted him with full decision-making power before he turned 18.

He didn't even need to call them about a transfer.

After Yang Cheng gave him a detailed tactical breakdown of the team and his future role, the Croatian teen agreed without hesitation.

English football was known for its physical intensity?

Modrić didn't flinch.

"I'll adapt. I promise!" he said firmly.

Still, there were lots of procedures to handle.

It was an international transfer, after all.

And there was the work permit issue.

After three days in Zagreb, Yang Cheng flew back to Frankfurt.

Slovenia—Croatia's neighbor—also had a few promising young players, great value for money.

But unfortunately, because of UK work permit restrictions, Yang Cheng couldn't sign them this summer.

Fortunately, if he remembered correctly, Slovenia would officially join the EU in 2004.

Once that happened, Slovenian players would no longer count as foreign imports.

Upon landing in Frankfurt, Yang Cheng didn't immediately return to London. Instead, he boarded a flight south to Bordeaux, France.

From there, he drove northeast for about 100 kilometers to Limoges.

In the southeastern suburbs of Limoges, at Limoges Football Club, he found the lost and uncertain right-back:

Laurent Koscielny.

Koscielny, about to turn 18, was the great-grandson of Polish immigrants, born in Tulle, in south-central France.

At 8, he joined Tulle's youth system. At 10, he moved to nearby Brive-la-Gaillarde and played for Brive.

At 12, he briefly returned to Tulle, but most of his development happened at Brive.

Until last year.

Both Tulle and Brive were low-tier amateur clubs.

So in 2002, when the biggest club in the area—Limoges—offered him a spot, Koscielny was persuaded to join their ambitious push for promotion to the third division.

But to his surprise, not only did the promised opportunities never come, the club soon fell into financial crisis and declared bankruptcy.

Even youth players like Koscielny were left to find their own way.

Without standout performances and stuck in the amateur leagues, Koscielny deeply regretted his decision a year ago.

And that was when Yang Cheng found him—and handed him his first professional contract.

The salary wasn't high, but it was the first time a club had ever formally offered him a professional deal.

Other clubs—including Ligue 2 side Guingamp in the northwest—had only ever invited him to train with their youth teams.

After much discussion with his family and agent, Koscielny was convinced by Yang Cheng and decided to sign the deal and head to England.

Since Limoges had gone bankrupt and owed wages and allowances, they didn't block the move. On the contrary, they facilitated the transfer—Koscielny was able to join Bayswater Chinese FC on a free.

After sealing the deal in Limoges, Yang Cheng didn't stop.

He immediately headed north to Boulogne-sur-Mer, on the coast of northern France—just across the English Channel from England.

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