Even though they had met underneath the Eiffel Tower, the two did not pay for the elevator to go up for a bird's eye view of Paris. They also did not go to the other famous tourist attractions. After they had taken a photograph at Champ de Mars and eaten ice cream, Twain and Shania walked along the banks of the Seine. They chatted as they strolled along, occasionally taking a few photographs. Twain knew nothing about fashion and had little interest in shopping, and since Shania had access to the latest fashion and cosmetics due to her work, she had no need to go shopping. The two people walked around aimlessly and as they wished.

Twain would ask her about her recent developments but would not criticize her for her little mistakes at work or reprimand her with a serious expression like her parents. Shania loved times like this and felt completely stress-free.

Twain loved it too. Being with Shania made him forget for a while about the upcoming Champions League final. He did not have to worry about the tactical arrangements of his opponent or his own team. He need not worry about this or that, consider his players' tasks, or make an explosive scene with the reporters. He did not have to do anything. He could just be free to stroll along the streets in the lazy sunny afternoon in Paris.

If Shania was the type of girl who would hit the high-end shops the moment they were on the streets and go home with shopping bags, Twain and she might not have the same rapport as they did now.

He was not a person who knew how to deal with women. He would sometimes appear to be to at a loss for what to do in the face of Sophia's warmth. When faced with Clarice's direct boldness, he would feel embarrassed; even when he would be alone with Yang Yan, he would be reserved most of the time. Only when he was together with Shania would he not be pretentious, awkward, or formal. He would mentally and physically relaxed.

He could not read minds and did not know what Shania thought about what it was like to be with him. Looking at the smile on Shania's face right now, he hoped that she would feel the same as him.

Time flew by that afternoon. Even though the sun was still shining, Twain and Shania had to leave. To avoid being harassed by the media, Twain did not send Shania back to her hotel. Shania also did not accompany Twain back. The pair waved goodbye on the streets of Paris.

Twain returned to the hotel after an afternoon of good moods and warm sunshine. His players had already returned in droves. When they had assembled, the team took the bus to the Stade de France to prepare for the final game.

※※※

Until now, Tang En still had an inexplicable feeling; He had watched this Champions League final on television. In the pouring rain, ten Arsenal players had challenged and led against Barcelona for less than twenty minutes before they were defeated in the final moments.

Therefore, now that he was in an historical event and became one of the lead characters, the feeling of his transmigration became more and more obvious.

Arsenal, which was originally supposed to be in the Champions League final, was knocked out by his team; before that, the Spanish team, The Yellow Submarine, Villarreal, which was supposed to be in the Champions League this season, was eliminated by Nottingham Forest, which replaced Villarreal's position in the Champions League. If things had developed according to the trajectory that Tang En knew, the Forest team should have been knocked out by Arsenal in the semi-finals.

Everything had been turned upside down and what had changed all that was him, the bug which had transmigrated through time and space.

Because he was the bug, Nottingham Forest, which he led, also rightly became a bug. Would this bug of his change the future, or would the established Barcelona, highly-regarded by the UEFA, bring history back to normal?

Twain stood in front of his hotel room's window.

He remembered the heavy rain in Paris during the Champions League final.

And now… The gurgling sound of the water could be heard clearly even if the window was closed. The silvery lines of rain poured down in torrents from the sky. The Eiffel Tower could still be seen clearly from here yesterday. Today he could only see a dark, blurry shadow.

He gazed outside at the hazy world, lost in thought.

"Tony." The sound of the door being opened came from behind him, and Kerslake walked in. "It's time to go."

※※※

"Such heavy rain…" Eastwood stood at the entrance of the hotel lobby, looking at the bus parked outside. Unlike Twain in the room with closed windows, the rain sounded more pronounced and clearer from here.

The Forest players had already gathered at the lobby and were ready to set off for the stadium. Playing in a game in the rain was familiar to them. After all, the one thing that Britain did not lack was rain all year round.

However, for the UEFA Champions League final, which everyone attached great importance to, it was still very frustrating and disappointing for it not to be carried out in appropriate weather.

"Will the game be postponed because of the heavy rain?" At the side, the young player Aaron Lennon asked curiously.

Albertini shook his head, "No, the underground drainage system at the Stade de France is well developed. There won't be much water on the ground. And…" He glanced at the reporters, clad in raincoats and filming in the heavy rain, "Such finals are broadcasted live to the world and sponsored by countless advertisers. A postponement will affect the interests of TV broadcasters. They wouldn't agree to a deferment."

"But it feels terrible to play football in such a pouring rain. It's uncomfortable to play dripping wet." Lennon frowned.

"Don't worry, maybe the rain will be less when we get to the stadium."

Lennon nodded as he looked outside, but his knitted brows still did not relax.

George Wood could only watch the game with his mother in the stands. Although he was still with the team at this time, he would go to his mother in the stands' VIP box when he reached the stadium. Hence, Albertini would put the captain's armband back on. In Wood's absence, he was the only person these young players could rely on. In fact, he was the team's captain first. It was only because of his long absence and disruptions due to his injuries that people remembered Wood as the captain.

In the current Forest team, only three players had playing experience in the Champions League finals. One was the goalkeeper, Edwin van der Sar, who had participated twice the Champions League finals while he was in Ajax. The first time, he had won the championship trophy on behalf of Ajax and the second time, he had lost to Juventus' Angelo Peruzzi guarding the goal in the penalty shootout.

The second player to have played in the Champions League final was Nicolas Anelka. However, his situation was quite embarrassing. It was reckoned that he would be unwilling to recall his Champions League final experience. It was his goal in the semi-finals that helped Real Madrid eliminate the Bundesliga titan, Bayern Munich, and advance to the final. It was his first time in the final and he made his first goal. But afterward, when people recalled that Champions League season, they would only remember Raúl's long-range attack that was nearly seventy meters long and Redondo's stunning pivot bypass in the game against Manchester United. They would remember Morientes, Hierro, and many others. But no one would think of him, Anelka. For Real Madrid fans, to score two goals in nineteen games for one season in Real Madrid, Anelka was considered a loser and still was until now.

The last player who had participated in a Champions League final was the team captain, Albertini. Like Edwin van der Sar, he had the glory of winning a Champions League title in the 93-94 season, which was in the twilight of the AC Milan dynasty. It was the final radiance of its glory. After that, AC Milan fell to its lowest ebb.

Anelka was taciturn. It was too difficult for the young players to count on him to impart his experience. Edwin van der Sar was very helpful, but with Albertini around, he still had to be more low-key. After all, Albertini was the captain, but he did not have any rank.

Twain and Kerslake walked out of the elevator and went to the middle of the assembled players.

"Let's go, guys." He clapped his hands and the players got up.

"Chief, the rain is really heavy," someone complained to Twain.

Twain shrugged. "No use complaining to me. I'm not God. But come to think of it, you should be glad."

When they heard him say so, the people around him were very surprised. Why should they be glad about such heavy rain? What was there to be glad about?

Seeing the surprised looks of the players around him, Twain smirked. "When you're playing on the field and you feel something cold falling on your heads, you'll know it's just rain, not just a flock of birds that ate something bad."

Everyone roared with laughter and the gloominess that had arisen due to the bad weather dissipated.

"All right, seriously, the rain is good for us. Those old guys at Barcelona are used to the bright and beautiful beaches, and must not like this weather. So, let's go!" He beckoned, and the players boarded the bus with smiles.

No matter how worried Twain was about the heavy rain that had followed the history in his memory, he still made casual jokes in front of the players so that no one could perceive the faint unease in his heart.

"It was sunny yesterday, and it's raining heavily today. This weather change came too quickly and suddenly, didn't it?" As Ribéry walked past him, he muttered.

"The weather in summer is weird," Chimbonda explained seriously behind him.

Hearing the conversation between the two men, Twain looked up at the sky. Yes, the weather was very good yesterday and the day before. He and Shania even ate ice cream at Champ de Mars under the brilliant sun. And today's temperature dropped by a lot.

Could this be providence?

Bah! Twain spat in his heart. If this was really heaven's will, that's bulls**t. I'm going to defy it today! Twain continued to curse and swear in his mind.

※※※

The heavy rain did not dampen the enthusiasm of both teams' fans. Stade de France, which could accommodate eighty thousand people, was a full house. The UFO-like edge of the stadium's roof completely sheltered the stands so that the fans did not have to sit in the rain to watch the game and seemed to be one of the reasons that the spectators' attendance was not affected.

Nottingham Forest fans turned out in full force, which made the tiny city of Nottingham almost empty. Barcelona had a higher population than Nottingham and the number of the Barcelona fans were more than the Nottingham Forest fans. In the stadium stands, their red and blue colors surpassed the Forest team's dark red, covering more than half of the stadium.

But when it came to singing, the Barcelona fans were no match for the English fans. In terms of the creation of the atmosphere in the stadium, the English fans were well-deserved experts. They did not borrow any modern means, such as a stadium broadcast, but used their voices to create songs to scare their opponents. This was the tradition of English football and something that the English fans were proud of.

The fans' chorus was always the most electrifying sound in the world.

At that moment, the Forest fans, fewer in numbers, used their singing voices to fight against the Barcelona fans in the stands.

As one of the competitors was an English team, there were bound to be a lot of English fans. Therefore, the Parisian police deployed a lot more police and the entire city was on the edge. No one wanted to recreate the tragic scene in which the German football hooligans beat a member of the National Gendarmerie, Daniel Nivel, into a vegetative state during the World Cup. The good thing thus far was that there had been no reports or records of the Forest fans being involved in drunken fights. Gavin Bernard's death caused the Forest fans' rioting to cease all at once, and they became the group of English fans with the cleanest record. However, this price came at a heavy cost.

When the players came out to warm up, the Forest fans loudly sang the songs they had created for the players. These people even had the ability to make up songs on the spot and then used the tune of the latest popular songs to belt it out. By comparison, the methods employed by the Barcelona fans, who were not at the Camp Nou, were more monotonous.

George Wood was not part of the warm-up. He had already left the team to go find his mother in the grandstand box.

As this was the final, the entire team took the game very seriously. Instead of staying in the locker room, Twain went to the sidelines with the team and braved the rain to inspect the field.

He walked up two paces and then frowned.

"The drainage system is quite good, but the field is slippery." Next to him, Kerslake gave his conclusion.

Twain nodded in agreement.

"Go back and let them ready the boots with the long cleats. It doesn't affect us too much, but for Barcelona..." He turned his head to look at the opponents who were warming up in the other section of the stadium. Frank Rijkaard also appeared on the sidelines at the same time and seemed to be inspecting the accumulated water and turf conditions on the field. He could not see his expression clearly, but seeing how the Dutchman continued to look down, he could tell what mood the opponent's manager was in at the moment.

Barcelona was representative of artistic football. They were used to controlling the football at their feet. The football rolled on the ground ninety percent of the time. Ronaldinho, Messi, Eto'o, Deco, Xavi… Those players represented technical football. They were more dependent on the venue and weather than the Forest team. Precise control of the ball, dribbling, and passing required the right conditions on the field. Slippery conditions would greatly limit and affect their play.

Therefore, this bad weather appeared to be better for Twain.

At most, my Nottingham Forest will play traditional English football with all of you. Let the ball fly back and forth endlessly in the air, and then we will rely on our bodies and crude fouls to disrupt the pace of Barcelona's offense. We'll drag you into the rhythm which we are most accustomed to.

If this sudden downpour is a godsend, I don't know who it is for.

Twain did not stay long on the sidelines. He turned back to the locker room after he ascertained the exact conditions of the field. He wiped the rainwater off of his hair and face with a dry towel, hung his damp coat on the hook, and waited quietly for the players to come back.

※※※

The warm-up soon ended and the players continued to return to the locker room. The coaches handed out dry towels to the players and the dry jerseys were already hung on the hangers in locker room cabinets for them to change.

Compared to when they were on the bus, the players were now visibly nervous and quieter. Most chose to be silent.

Twain observed everything.

"Are you nervous, guys?"

No one answered him, but everyone paused for a moment.

"I'm nervous too." When Twain admitted this, those people who took a pause laughed for a bit and continued to busy themselves.

"Get nervous now and forget the word when you get to the game." The players carried on changing their clothes and drying their hair. Twain continued speaking to himself. "This rain came at the right time. The Barcelona players are more nervous about this weather than we are. Did anyone see Rijkaard's face just now?"

He chuckled hoarsely.

When everyone was done with their businesses, they sat down and faced their boss. Twain went on to say, "Play as we usually do."