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

As the Buckhorn Stags entered the field for their warm-up session, the stadium DJ enthusiastically announced the starting lineup, one by one. 

Each name was met with thunderous applause and the rhythmic pounding of jazz drums.

"…And now, introducing the Stags' number 3, left-back, from China—Gu Ran!"

Hearing his name, Gu Ran paused his ball work and raised a hand toward the stands in acknowledgment.

The applause wasn't as intense as for some of his teammates…

But the screams from the girls? It was like a pop star's concert.

The male students at Southampton weren't as familiar with Gu Ran. Many only knew that their school team had a draw and a win, but they hadn't actually seen how he played.

But the girls didn't care about stats.

They only cared about one thing—was he handsome?

And Gu Ran was too handsome.

Especially in the red-and-white-striped Southampton jersey, standing tall on the pitch—he looked absolutely unreal.

His usual demeanor was calm, his eyes gentle, his posture carrying the natural reservedness of a Chinese upbringing.

But the moment he stepped onto the field, wearing his jersey, waiting for the game to begin—

He transformed.

His gaze was sharp as a blade, his entire aura radiating intensity, and every movement carried a raw masculinity.

In school, any guy who was both handsome and a top athlete was automatically a campus legend.

And Gu Ran had just become one.

His personal fan club had gone into overdrive.

Banners waved high in the stands.

"Gu Ran, I love you!"

"Gu Ran, my idol! Let's go!"

"Gu Ran, if you make it past the group stage, I'll go on a date with you!"

"Gu Ran, qualify and I'll have your babies!"

"Forget Sophie, let's start over!"

"Gu Ran, do you remember my pink love letter?"

Compared to the girls' high-pitched excitement, the male students were… less thrilled.

"Wait, isn't our number 3 supposed to be Olin? When did this Chinese guy take his spot?"

"Dude, you're so out of the loop. Olin transferred out the day before registration."

"So he just got lucky and took the spot?"

"Damn, if I'd known it was that easy, I would've tried out for left-back. Then I'd have a fan club too."

"Bro, if you don't have a mirror, just pee on the ground and take a look."

"Jokes aside, does anyone actually know how good this guy is? Can he even play?"

"No idea. But I heard a bunch of girls talking about him. Apparently, they've been watching his 'videos.'"

"Wait. What kind of videos?"

"No clue. But every girl who watched it started fangirling like crazy."

"Damn… maybe I should make some videos too."

"My real concern is, what if this Chinese guy sucks and we lose? No group stage qualification? Then what?"

"If that happens? No debate—we beat him up."

A few guys even rolled up their sleeves in preparation.

Gu Ran was oblivious to the conversations in the stands, completely focused on his passing drills with his teammates.

Every pass he made triggered another wave of high-pitched squeals.

The guys scoffed.

"His passing looks normal. Nothing special."

"Yeah, I could do that."

"Same, I could totally do that."

At that moment, the team's striker, Bread, misjudged a long ball, sending it rolling toward the main stands.

Gu Ran jogged over to retrieve it.

The girls gasped in unison.

"Oh my god~"

"He's even handsome when picking up a ball!"

"I can't take it anymore—I need CPR!"

"Gu Ran! Over here! Look at me!"

Gu Ran didn't even glance up. He picked up the ball and jogged back to the field.

"He totally heard me calling him! He remembers me, but he's just too shy to respond!"

"He's so cute! So hot, yet so shy!"

Ignoring them only made them even crazier.

But among the crowd, one woman was unimpressed.

"Hmph. A bunch of little girls who've never seen the world…" muttered Maria.

Then she casually wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth.

Maria was standing in the medical zone, dressed in a white lab coat over black stockings, ready for any injuries.

Since this was a home game, Southampton was responsible for medical coverage for both teams.

Of course, Maria had already made sure she was only handling the Stags.

And this time—before Carter even asked—she had volunteered to personally provide Gu Ran with a leg massage at halftime.

Carter, completely oblivious, felt deeply moved. He believed his sincerity had finally won over Maria.

The warm-up session ended, and Golden Fleece still hadn't set foot on the pitch.

The Stags returned to the locker room for final preparations.

Carter stood in front of the team and spoke in a deep voice.

"Everyone, close your eyes."

The players hesitated but complied.

Ten seconds passed.

Then Carter asked, "Now, tell me. What do you feel?"

The team exchanged confused glances.

Bread hesitated. "Coach… all I hear is the crowd outside."

Carter nodded. "And what does that mean?"

"I know!" Rusty shot up his hand. "Coach! It means… our locker room has bad soundproofing!"

"Get out!" Carter snapped. "Gu Ran, you tell me!"

Gu Ran straightened his back. "It means this is our home turf. We owe it to every single fan cheering for us. It means we fight for them, with everything we have."

"Exactly!" Carter's voice boomed. "This is OUR field. Those spoiled brats from Golden Fleece refused to eat in our cafeteria. They didn't even bother to warm up on our field. They think they're above us!"

"Tell me—what do we do?!"

"DESTROY THEM!"

"SHAVE THE GOLDEN FLEECE BALD!"

The locker room shook with the players' roars.

Carter threw up a fist. "Enough talk! Get out there and CRUSH THEM!"

"YES, COACH!"

The team stormed into the tunnel.

Golden Fleece players finally arrived, straggling in lazily.

Neither side gave the other a single glance.

At 2:55 PM, led by the referee, both teams stepped onto the field.

The Southampton students pounded the drums and erupted into cheers.

Gu Ran stood in place, feeling the adrenaline course through his veins.

After the pre-match handshake, the captains met at center field for the coin toss.

Golden Fleece's captain wasn't Jolly Walsh—he was relaxing on the bench.

In fact, just as Carter predicted, most of Golden Fleece's starting lineup was benched.

They hadn't even bothered to bring out their best players.

The referee flipped the coin.

Bread called it right.

The Stags won the right to choose their side.

The students cheered wildly.

Even winning the coin toss felt like a victory.

Golden Fleece would start with possession.

The home crowd turned their chants into jeers.

"Bald sheep! Bald sheep!"

One particularly bold student even mooned the Golden Fleece players.

Gu Ran winced.

Damn.

Southampton's home crowd was hardcore.

Compared to this, pirate ship stadiums and boar-headed jazz clubs were nothing.

Both teams got into position.

Golden Fleece, in gold kits, lined up in an aggressive 4-4-2 formation.

But their setup was different—when attacking, their wingers pushed up, effectively turning it into a 4-2-4.

When defending, they pulled back into a standard 4-4-2.

This meant their wingers had to be physically dominant—to push past the opposing fullbacks with sheer power.

Their strategy was simple.

Dominate the flanks.

Overpower their way through.

Brute force.

The Stags, on the other hand, stuck to their usual 4-4-2 diamond formation.

The plan was clear—stay compact, absorb pressure, and hit them on the counter.

The referee blew the whistle.

Game on.

Golden Fleece wasted no time.

From the center circle, their midfielder immediately launched a long ball down the right flank.

Their right winger, built like a rugby player, powered through Southampton's right back, shouldering him aside like a ragdoll.

Then he took off down the wing.

The Stags' right back scrambled to recover—but he was already too far behind.

Golden Fleece's right wing.

That meant—

Gu Ran's left-back zone.

The Southampton crowd held their breath.

The guys groaned.

"Damn. Even our veteran fullback got bullied. This Chinese kid's gonna get wrecked."

Some of the girls started praying.

The Golden Fleece winger thundered down the pitch, his touches sloppy but powerful.

British football—brute force over finesse.

Gu Ran spotted his opportunity.

He signaled Bread to cover his position.

Then, he took off.

His golden Messi boots dug into the familiar home turf.

His body felt weightless.

Explosive.

He sprinted straight for the Golden Fleece winger.

The girls shrieked in excitement.

The boys watched in doubt.

The Golden Fleece winger smirked.

He didn't even see Gu Ran as a threat.

That was his mistake.

Because Gu Ran wasn't aiming for the ball.

He was aiming for him.

Ball can pass.

But you?

You're not going anywhere.

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