Speaking of Brazil, the first thing that Tang En thought of was football. The second thing was still football. When it came to Rio de Janeiro, it still reminded Tang En of football. He was a football fan at heart; football was everything in Brazil. Brazil was football; the two equaled each other.

But when he came to Rio de Janeiro, his eyes were not drawn to football, but to its exotic atmosphere, which was different from Britain and China.

He was no stranger to football. Football was his job every day. In Brazil, he suddenly turned a blind eye to the kids who played football in the streets.

The sunny beaches, tropical weather, passionate and bold bikini beauties, and the palm trees swaying in the sea breeze. The sounds of the distant tide and rippling blue waves were in his ears.

"Too bad it's not February, or else you wouldn't be able to turn your eyes away." Next to him, Shania piped up suddenly.

"February? Why February?" Twain was puzzled.

"Because of the Rio Carnival; the world-famous carnival in Rio de Janeiro-" Shania dragged out her voice.

Twain turned to look at Shania. The young girl was looking less and less like a child. Of course, now that they were both in Rio de Janeiro's most famous Copacabana beach, there were people everywhere on the white-silvery beach. It was exceptionally lively.

Twain stared at Shania for a while until Shania seemed somewhat self-conscious. Then he chuckled as he turned his head back. "I'm not interested in that." He said as he laid down, "Everyone squeezed together, there's nothing to look at. But Brazil is really a good place to be." He opened his eyes to look at the clear blue sky and white clouds. It was basically impossible to see such a sky in the United Kingdom.

Next to him, Shania hummed gently.

"What do you think of my mother and father?" She turned to Twain and asked.

"Better than I'd imagined..." Twain continued to look up. He could not get enough of the sapphire sky.

"Huh? What'd you imagine?" Shania was very curious. Twain had never told her his impression of her parents.

Twain's gaze remained unchanged, but yesterday's scene appeared in front of his eyes.

※※※

He and Shania arrived in Brazil the previous day. They had just arrived at the airport when Shania's father was already outside of the airport, waiting with his car.

Shania's father was as polite as he was when they had first met. And Shania's mother was a lot nicer than when they had first met. Her manner was very consistent with the image of the wealthy middle class. There was always a smile on her face, and it made Twain feel a little less unfamiliar. Perhaps he was so accustomed to Shania's sassiness that he was not used to a somewhat formal meeting all of a sudden.

Not knowing why, Twain was easygoing with Shania during their chats, but when he was speaking with Shania's parents, his back would involuntarily straighten, his speech would become slower, and his tone would be even. No one asked him to do that, and Shania did not give him a fair warning in advance about how to talk to her parents. It was all his subconscious behavior.

That discovery made him a little annoyed, but he could not show it. He did not want to leave a bad impression in the minds of Shania's parents.

They treated him like a distant visitor and took great care of him. There was nothing to complain about. Both of them worked and were very busy. So, they let Shania take care of him in Brazil and accompany him on the sightseeing. They arranged the schedule and activities on their own without the two parents' involvement. From this point of view, they seemed quite at ease about Twain.

Early this morning, when Twain had woken up from his sleep after he got used to the time difference, he found that Shania had already made breakfast.

While having their breakfast, Shania asked Twain where he wanted to go. Twain was not familiar with Brazil, so he naturally could not say. Then Shania decided to go to Rio de Janeiro's most famous beach, and the world's most famous beach: Copacabana Beach.

This place was the first stop for nearly all visitors to Rio de Janeiro. Shania also had a little selfish motive of her own: she really wanted to go to the beach to sunbathe. In Britain, it was impossible to see such a beach in the cold, damp Newcastle.

Twain had no objections. Either way, as a coach, he was still in good shape. He was not afraid to wear his swim trunks on the beach.

※※※

"Anyway... Your parents are more easy-going than I thought." Twain said.

"Is it because of that time when my parents went to England to fetch me that you have that impression?" Shania giggled.

"How can you still laugh about that?" Twain glared at her, "It was on you. You made a fool out of me."

His remarks made Shania giggle even more. Her feet tapped on the fine sand with her head lowered and her shoulders trembled in laughter.

Twain cleared his throat. Finally, when Shania's laughter subsided, she flipped her messy hair and smiled as she glanced at Twain. "Sometimes I think you're just too cute."

Twain huffed and reached his hand out towards Shania's underarm. "I'm going to tickle you for being so cheeky."

Shania pulled her arm away, but Twain did not give up and extended to her other side. This time, Shania could only lean towards Twain to dodge the attack from the other side. Twain seized the opportunity to move forward and blocked Shania's escape route. At this point, Shania could withdraw within his arms as she giggled and begged for mercy.

"Spare me, Tony. Uncle Tony!"

Shania laid on the beach and Twain propped himself up with both hands. Shania's face was flushed from Twain's tickling. Her breathing was ragged as she laid weakly on her back, breathing heavily. Her bellybutton was like a tiny mouth opening and closing with her breathing.

The two of them suddenly became quiet. Shania's smile froze on her face, and Twain's hands were motionless. They could hear the laughter of the young and gorgeous people around them, accompanied by the sound of the crashing waves.

He suddenly snapped out of it and turned his body over to lie down. He was afraid to look at Shania lying beside him. He could hear her timid voice, "Uncle Tony..."

When her voice reached Twain's ears, he could feel the fine hair in his ear tickled by a warm breath. It was ticklish and tingling. His heart trembled as his gaze turned to the distance and became unfocused without a focal point. He just wanted to keep his attention away from his side for the moment.

"The weather is so nice. Much better here than in England." He gave a cough.

"Well, actually, I don't like England at all!" Shania sat up. Her voice regained its vitality again.

"Then why did you go there to be a model? If you wanted to be a model, wouldn't you be able to do it in Brazil? Modeling isn't football; the world's center isn't in England."

Behind him, Shania was silent for a moment, and then she softly said, "The English weather and food are very bad, but it is not all bad."

"A place like England, you'll get used after living there for a long time. I just thought of a joke about the weather. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes, I want to. Let's hear it!" Shania was always very interested in fun stuff like jokes.

"Well, it's actually not really a joke. This really happened. It is said that somewhere in England, there's a magical stone which can automatically forecast the weather, and it's very accurate!"

Twain successfully piqued Shania's interest with his words. She frowned and asked, "Is that possible? Can a stone really predict the weather?"

"Of course, it can. It goes like this... The magical stone is tied to a rope and hangs in mid-air. Behind the stone, a sign reads: Gary's weather forecast stone. You'll know exactly what the weather will be if you compare what he has written down line by line. It says, 'If the stone is wet, it's raining. If the stone is dry, it's not raining. If the stone casts a shadow on the ground, the sun is out. If the top of the stone is covered in white, it's snowing..."

Shania began to laugh when she heard up to that point. Her laughter started softly and became louder as her shoulders shook.

Twain was still talking about the stone with a serious tone of a weatherman, "If the stone cannot be seen, it means there's fog. If the stone is swaying, its windy. If the stone is shaking up and down, that means an earthquake. If the stone disappears, there is a tornado!" He made an exaggerated expression with his hands waving like a gust of wind was blowing.

Shania sat on the ground and thumped the ground with her hands.

Twain looked at the happy Shania. He reached out to brush the fine white sand off her long hair and then used his hand to gently comb her hair. He carefully gathered and combed the scattered and messy strands of her dark hair.

Shania's laughter gradually subsided. She buried her head between her arms, "Uncle Tony..."

"Yes?"

"I'm so happy to be with you..."

"Okay."

"So, thank you."

"There's no need to thank me. I should thank you instead. Without you, my life would be boring."