Chapter 197 195: Strange Old Man
The lazy morning sun spilled down as the indigo night sky slowly receded. A gentle breeze swept past, bringing an involuntary shiver. Though September in California was still the height of summer, San Francisco already had a hint of early autumn in the air. No wonder Mark Twain said, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."
In the blink of an eye, Wednesday had arrived. Before he even had time to process everything, the short break was over, and the hustle for the third week of the regular season had to begin.
Today would be an incredibly busy day. First was media day, then a photoshoot for the San Francisco Chronicle, followed by recovery training, and finally, the entire team gathering to watch the game film from the second week—
Although Lu Ke had already spent the better part of yesterday watching game film, that was his personal preparation. Today, however, was for the team's collective preparation: analyzing tactics, coordination, gains and losses, and so on.
After two weeks of adapting, Lu Ke was slowly adjusting his training schedule. From Monday to Friday, his daily training plan had to be adjusted according to the team's needs and the game schedule.
Take today, Wednesday, for example. After getting up, Lu Ke didn't immediately jump into strenuous exercise. Instead, he first jogged on the treadmill for twenty minutes, then began his warm-ups: pull-ups, parallel bar dips, and push-ups, doing three sets of fifteen to twenty reps for each. This was followed by a 10,000-meter interval endurance run, after which he would head to the training facility for strength training.
Overall, Lu Ke had divided his daily training into three parts, to be completed at three different times throughout the day. This not only aligned with the team's schedule, allowing his team training and system missions to complement each other, but also fit the "recovery training" theme of a Wednesday, letting him slightly lower the intensity of his workouts.
Of course, adapting to the Professional Alliance was a long process. It had only been two weeks, so his schedule was bound to have some flaws. As he gained more experience, he would gradually get the hang of it.
After changing into his clothes and running shoes, he left home, ready to start the day's interval endurance run. He began to pick up his pace along the slope, heading uphill and adjusting his breathing for the climb. But just half a block later, at an intersection, Lu Ke came to a halt.
An elderly man with white hair was sitting on the roadside, a wooden cane by his feet. He was wiping sweat from his forehead with a dark blue handkerchief, and his pale complexion suggested he was in physical distress. He paid no mind to his dark gray custom suit, sitting cross-legged on the ground, panting heavily.
"Sir, do you need help?" Lu Ke walked back, squatting down to ask with concern.
It was just a little past seven, and the chilly air raised goosebumps on the skin. There weren't many pedestrians out; the weekday morning was just beginning to stir, a quiet, crisp air flowing through the residential neighborhood. It looked like the old gentleman had run into some unexpected trouble during his morning walk.
The old man didn't speak. Instead, he methodically regulated his breathing, taking one deep breath after another. A wry, self-deprecating smile appeared on his weathered, wrinkled face. "The cycle of life... Once you reach a certain age, your body starts to go on strike. A lot of the parts start breaking down."
"I thought that was a problem everyone has to face, regardless of age." Seeing that the man seemed okay, Lu Ke relaxed a little and said with a smile, "It's just that age brings a few more problems, but it also comes with life experience and wisdom. So, you win some, you lose some. We can't be too greedy."
Noticing the old man's smile, but also his furrowed brow, Lu Ke asked again with concern, "Are you alright? I can call '911' if you need."
In the United States, "911" wasn't just for the police. It was a universal number for any request. You could describe the situation to the operator, who would then make a judgment and dispatch the appropriate help, be it a hospital, police station, or fire department. So, when you were unsure who to ask for help, dialing "911" was the simplest and most direct option.
The old man said nothing, clutching his heart. It seemed to be under excessive strain, setting off a chain reaction in his body.
Without hesitating, Lu Ke took the phone from his armband and prepared to dial.
"Don't worry." The old man raised his right hand and gave a small wave. "It's just an old man running out of steam." To convince Lu Ke, he looked up and gave a big smile. "Believe me, I have no intention of surrendering just yet. If there was a real problem, I'd be more anxious than you."
Lu Ke was taken aback for a moment. Then he saw the playful, teasing glint in the old man's eyes and let out a chuckle. "You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure." The old man gave a slight nod, his faint voice filled with conviction.
He looked to be around sixty, perhaps even older, his cheeks covered in wrinkles like a dried-up orange peel. His immaculate three-piece suit seemed out of place, far too formal for the occasion, yet it spoke to his taste. He looked like a man of class and status.
A faint flush now colored his pale cheeks, and the sweat beading on his forehead and neck betrayed his weakness. Yet, he had a pair of bright eyes that shone a clear, emerald green in the thin morning light. Their spirited gaze revealed a youthfulness that belied his age and physical condition.
Lu Ke nodded slightly, indicating he understood. He believed the old man was indeed alright.
"Good." Lu Ke didn't press the issue. "I'm in the middle of my morning run, so I'll be going now." He didn't linger, but he didn't leave immediately either. Looking around, he added, "If you still feel unwell, this is the Casani Family's house. He's Italian—warm and hospitable, though not very reliable in a crisis. But you can trust him to do something as simple as calling '911'."
The old man chuckled and nodded slightly. "Thanks for the advice."
Lu Ke smiled, gave a wave, and started off again, resuming his run for the day.
Lech Steineberg let out a long, long breath, the tightness in his chest easing slightly. He lifted his head to watch Lu Ke's departing back, his eyes following the young man until he receded into the distance. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, the flush on his cheeks gradually faded.
'It was just a brief encounter, but Lu Ke had left quite an impression on him. He was warm, witty, and approachable. In an emergency, he could make a quick judgment; he was helpful, but not overbearingly so, doing just what was necessary. More importantly, his eyes were firm, his will tenacious. And he consistently maintained a high intensity in his daily training.'
'For a young rookie not yet twenty-two, that was truly rare.'
'Of course, as the first starting Chinese-American quarterback in the Alliance's history—one who had also led his team to two consecutive wins—the player was bound to have qualities others didn't. Otherwise, attributing it all to luck just wasn't a plausible explanation.'
'Still, it wasn't unheard of for an Alliance rookie to have such composure; it was rare, but it happened. The question was, how long could it last? Especially once the spotlight found him, once wealth and fame surrounded him—how long could that sincerity endure?'
Not in a hurry to get up, Lech sat peacefully where he was, quietly waiting for his breathing and heartbeat to steady.
Once he had fully recovered, Lech grabbed the cane beside him and used it for support to wobble to his feet. Then, at an unhurried pace, he started down the slope. After just half a block, he reached his destination and stopped in front of a house.
Resting his overlapping hands on his cane, he leaned lightly against the fence. His gaze fell on the red mailbox beside it, which had "LU" painted in white.
This house was Lu Ke's home.
'His task this morning was to visit and get to know Lu Ke. The minor heart trouble was an accident, and the premature encounter with Lu Ke was an even bigger one. But one accident had run into another, yielding an unexpected reward. Now that the accidents were over, it was time to get back on track.'
Patiently, ever so patiently, Lech showed no sign of hurry, waiting right where he was.
After some time, the sound of jogging footsteps and steady breathing reached his ears. Lu Ke came into view, slowing his pace. He was covered in sweat and his face was flushed, but his eyes were still clear and bright, though they held a hint of surprise. He clearly wasn't prepared for this reunion.
"Hey, can I help you with something?" Lu Ke stopped about five paces away from Lech, his entire posture radiating caution—
'The old man from that accidental meeting earlier was now standing in front of his house, and so early in the morning. Everything about this was strange.'
Lech didn't seem to mind, shrugging with a smile. "Relax, I'm not a crazed fan here to cause trouble." He knew about the fans' recent extreme behavior, which had put Lu Ke on high alert.
But those words did little to ease Lu Ke's tension. Lech leisurely pulled a small silver box from his suit pocket. It was adorned with an exquisite design and a vintage clasp—a small object that nevertheless exuded an air of distinction.
Opening the box, Lech drew out a white card of exceptional quality and handed it over. "Good morning. Although we've already met, allow me to formally introduce myself. Lech Steineberg, agent."
Lu Ke took the card and glanced down. It was a business card—simple, elegant, and tastefully classic. He could feel its fine texture and embossed pattern with his fingertips. It had no unnecessary frills, only a name and a title:
"Agent, Lech Steineberg."