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

Gu Ran took a step forward, moving toward the visibly frustrated Beckham. As he got closer, he discreetly nudged the glowing blue bubble with his foot.

The bubble burst instantly, dissolving into a streak of light that surged into his body.

Ding—

"Host has acquired a professional football skill from an enriched bubble: Golden Right Foot – Precision Long Pass +1. Today's collection progress: 9/10."

Oh?

A steady yet satisfied smile crept onto Gu Ran's face.

Finally, a proper football skill!

Golden Right Foot – Precision Long Pass!

This was Beckham's signature move!

In his mind, Gu Ran could already see flashes of Beckham's golden era at Real Madrid, perfectly linking up with Zidane and Ronaldo in one brilliant play after another.

A strange sensation crept over his right leg. He could feel the intricate shifts happening within his muscles. His ankle, which had always felt a bit stiff and rigid, now moved with effortless fluidity—like it had been lubricated to perfection.

Damn, this felt good!

He had the sudden urge to test out a long pass right now.

Not yet.

He still had one more collection left for the day. He couldn't afford to be reckless and expose his ability too soon.

If he played his cards right, he could squeeze another skill out of Beckham.

Gu Ran looked at Beckham, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Beckham, noticing Gu Ran's gaze, mistakenly assumed he was just another assistant sent by the director to rush him into filming. Irritated, he snapped, "Leave me alone! What kind of garbage commercial is this? I don't want to do it anymore!"

Gu Ran, ever composed, smiled. "You're right, Beckham. The concept for this commercial is terrible. But, I have an idea. Want to hear it?"

Beckham scoffed. "You? You're just a backup cameraman. What kind of idea could you possibly have?"

Gu Ran remained calm. "Director James wants you to showcase your dribbling and footwork, but that only highlights your weakest area. My idea focuses on your strength—your signature bending shot."

Beckham raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you propose we do that?"

Gu Ran pointed toward the beach. "See those three trash cans over there? You take a shot from forty meters out and curve the ball into each one using your famous free kick technique. After nailing all three, you casually crack open an ice-cold Pepsi. That way, not only do you display your jaw-dropping technique, but you also reinforce the brand's image effortlessly."

This was the exact concept that the commercial would eventually settle on!

Even without Gu Ran, the director would have likely reached this conclusion after rounds of failed attempts.

But Gu Ran had beaten them to it, dropping the idea at the perfect moment, when everyone else was still clueless.

Beckham's eyes flickered with interest. "Hmm… that's actually a pretty damn good idea."

Gu Ran, however, suddenly shook his head. "No, no, wait. Never mind. Forty meters is too far. You probably can't make those shots. Forget I said anything."

Beckham was instantly provoked. "I can't? Get me a ball! I'll show you what a real bending shot looks like!"

Gu Ran let out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, alright. If you insist."

He gestured to the crew, who quickly brought over three footballs. Meanwhile, he discreetly positioned a hidden stationary camera.

Beckham, barefoot, placed the three balls in a straight line on the uneven sand.

Taking a deep breath, he hopped lightly on his feet, took his signature approach, bending his knee and tilting his body at a 45-degree angle. His right foot swung through, striking the lower right side of the ball, sending it flying with a magnificent arc.

The ball curved beautifully through the air, bending in a perfect arc before dropping straight into the trash can forty meters away!

The crowd on set gasped in awe.

This was Beckham's legendary technique!

It wasn't just about raw power or even skill. This was a technique that was almost impossible to replicate.

It wasn't the difficulty of execution that made it rare—it was the sheer risk involved. The technique required insane control over the ankle, and one wrong move could cause serious injury. Most players wouldn't gamble their careers practicing something so high-risk.

Even if a player managed to master the curving trajectory, without Beckham's "Golden Right Foot" precision, the shot would still lack the necessary accuracy.

To execute the perfect bending shot, it required both ankle control and pinpoint precision.

Gu Ran clenched his fists. He had already gained Beckham's Golden Right Foot: Precision Long Pass +1, which meant his understanding of ball control had also advanced to another level. Judging from Beckham's execution, if this were measured on the system's scale, Beckham's Golden Right Foot would be at least +9, with his bending shot technique at a similar level.

This was the difference between an international superstar and an ordinary player.

Beckham had spent countless hours training, sweating, and recovering from injuries to achieve this level of mastery.

As for me? I just need to… keep freeloading!

Beckham didn't stop there. With the same fluid motion, he curled the second ball in. Then the third.

Three shots. Three perfect hits.

Absolutely flawless.

The entire set erupted into applause.

Beckham grinned smugly and turned to Gu Ran. "Well? Backup cameraman, do you still think I can't do it?"

Gu Ran casually shut off his hidden camera and smiled. "No doubt about it, you've still got it, Beckham. You're already thirty-five, and yet you can still pull off perfect bending shots like this. Impressive, impressive."

Beckham laughed. "Haha… wait, what? Thirty-five?"

Gu Ran shrugged, looking innocent. "What else? England didn't call you up for the World Cup this year. They said it was because of your injury, but you've clearly recovered. If the national team still won't take you back, isn't it obvious? They think you're too old. They just didn't want to say it to your face."

Beckham froze.

Gu Ran's words had hit him in the heart.

Playing for the national team, competing in the World Cup—this was what he had always wanted the most.

Now, despite being fully recovered, he hadn't even received a call-up.

Wasn't this just their polite way of telling him he was past his prime?

F*! They're casting me aside!**

The more he thought about it, the more it stung. His breathing grew heavy, his frustration boiling over.

"I WANT TO PLAY FOR ENGLAND! I'M NOT OLD! I CAN STILL RUN! I CAN STILL PLAY! I'D EVEN TAKE A BENCH ROLE! I JUST WANT TO PLAY IN THE WORLD CUP! AND THEY THINK I'M TOO OLD? THEY THINK I'M FINISHED?!"

Watching Beckham's composure shatter into pieces, Gu Ran couldn't help but feel a little… thrilled.

Ding—

"Host has collected 91 points of negative emotion from David Beckham. System bubble generating…"

Oh?

91 points?!

Looks like I really struck a nerve!

With such a high emotion value, this has to be a top-tier football skill, right?

A glowing blue bubble appeared at Beckham's feet.

Gu Ran calmly walked over, gently patting Beckham's shoulder as if offering comfort. At the same time, he subtly brushed the bubble with his foot.

The bubble burst into shimmering light, absorbing into his body.