Chapter 337 - 270: The Spirited Miss Translator

"Relax, I won’t charge you!"

The two large men stood up like a pair of giant grizzly bears, still clutching their steak knives and forks, radiating fury.

Ni Bingyan stood before them, looking perhaps half as wide as either man.

’Honestly, I’m pretty nervous.’

She wasn’t sure what had just come over her, standing up on impulse like that. Seeing them glaring at her, she was starting to regret it.

But it was too late for regrets now. She had to see it through.

"I think a lot of your anger is coming from a misunderstanding caused by the language barrier. I happen to speak your native languages, so maybe I can help you better understand each other. What do you think?"

Neither of them seemed very good at English, so Ni Bingyan spoke deliberately slowly, only breathing a sigh of relief when she was sure they both understood.

It’s incredibly frustrating to let loose a whole tirade during an argument only for the other person not to understand a word of it.

Now someone had shown up offering to be their translator. Even though she’d be working for both sides, it was still much better than the current situation.

Both men agreed to her help. Ni Bingyan cleared her throat and told them to continue their argument.

Having their argument interrupted midway, only to be told to resume, left both men’s emotions feeling a bit disjointed.

But they were clearly experienced arguers and quickly got back into the right headspace.

"That ball hog O’Neil is old! He insists on taking a starting spot just to stroll around the pitch! He won’t give the young players a chance! When it comes to team management, your club is miles behind ours!"

The Norwegian guy gripped his knife and fork, forcing himself to sit back down with great effort.

When she was planning her trip and buying tickets, Ni Bingyan had been glad that those two teams were still playing here. Now, she felt a tinge of regret, since the players weren’t the ones she was familiar with.

’I don’t know anything about these players, and it’s too late to look them up now. I have no idea who’s right, so I’ll just have to translate it as is.’

’However, to de-escalate the conflict, it’s probably necessary to be a little artful with my words.’

’No need to tell them that, though.’

"Gentlemen, why don’t we sit down and talk? All fans are one big family! The truth becomes clearer with debate; violence solves nothing."

Ni Bingyan’s calm demeanor was very convincing.

Of course, the most important factor was that ninety-nine percent of men the world over are willing to give a pretty girl some face, as long as no fundamental lines are crossed.

The two men exchanged a look and, with a silent understanding, sat down.

Ni Bingyan pulled up a chair to sit between them, then translated what the Norwegian had said for the Russian:

"This gentleman just said that for the good of the team, O’Neil should give the younger players some opportunities. Cultivating young, motivated players who feel a sense of belonging is fundamental to keeping a team’s vitality and combat strength."

Whether it was because a woman had joined them or because he felt the other man actually had a point, the tense, hostile atmosphere immediately dissipated.

But one must never lose face. Even if your body relaxes, your words can’t. That’s a man’s true nature.

The Russian immediately switched into taunt mode:

"From an economic perspective, you’ve got a point. Newbies are cheap, after all. Once you scout one, it’s a great deal whether you trade them or add them to your own tactical lineup. But we, the Blue Army, aren’t like certain garbage teams drowning in debt, with no money to sign superstars! They’re forced to focus on things like that!"

The Russian’s expression was very animated. Even without understanding Russian, the Norwegian guy could see the contempt in his eyes.

Seeing the young man’s hand tighten on his fork again, Ni Bingyan made a placating gesture and translated:

"I’ll admit your team is definitely better at cultivating new talent, but it’s also a fact that our team is stronger financially. While I am a bit worried this might put financial strain on the club, to be fair, signing a superstar really has brought a lot more attention. And you know, in this day and age, attention is part of a team’s value!"

Looking at her expression, the Norwegian guy grew suspicious. "Did he really say that? Why do your expressions not match? Hey!"

Seeing him about to resume communicating with the Russian in his broken English, Ni Bingyan felt a pang of panic, afraid they’d discover her editorializing. On the surface, however, she remained perfectly calm and explained directly to both of them in English:

"This is where my professionalism comes in. Regardless of your emotional state, I can remain calm and objective.

"Also, gentlemen, please understand—I am a lady, after all. When you two get emotional, you say some... less-than-elegant things that I don’t feel comfortable translating, so I’ve filtered them out. I don’t think this affects your ability to perceive the other’s emotional shifts, do you?"

Well, her reasoning was sound and convincing. The two men had no further objections.

However, under the circumstances, neither of them wanted to appear vulgar in front of a woman, so they felt too embarrassed to use any more profanity.

"Alright! Since you put it that way, I won’t hold back! Some teams these days are really losing their way! They don’t focus on playing well, just on hyping up scandals! Like your damn club! After the owner changed, the whole operational direction went completely off the rails! Sigh... The era of technical skill is really gone and never to return!"

Ni Bingyan put on a serious face:

"He says that rather than celebrity gossip, he prefers to focus on the team’s tactics and the players’ skills. He feels those things are more important. What do you think?"

"Oh shit! Who could say no to that?"

Excellent. Thanks to Ni Bingyan’s efforts, the two men had found common ground again.

Soon, they were chatting amicably.

When you’re arguing, poor communication is a torment. But when you’re chatting happily, everyone wants to speak for themselves.

It’s like a married couple who, after a fight, use their kids to pass messages. But when they’re being lovey-dovey, they’ll tell their child, "Go play somewhere else and leave us alone!"

Even if they supported different teams, their love for football was the same.

The two men picked up their broken English again and started chatting. Ni Bingyan tactfully returned to her own seat.

Her breakfast was already cold. She forced down a couple of bites and was about to head back to her room when two people holding a bouquet of flowers stopped her.

It was a man and a woman. The man was a typical middle-aged white guy with a drinker’s nose and a potbelly. He came right up and shoved the bouquet in her face.

"We’re terribly sorry, we were just filming a show."

The woman was tall and thin, wearing a skirt suit. She looked like a serious rack of ribs, but when she spoke, it was with her own brand of deadpan humor:

"Thank you, Miss... inspired translator."

Apparently, someone else had been watching the whole thing unfold.

"???"

Just as she was reeling in confusion, the two men who had been arguing came over, both smiling and wanting to shake her hand.

"Haha! Thank you so much!"

’So...’

’I wasn’t using you for content, but you were using *me* for content????’

As someone who often found herself watching drama unfold only to discover she was the main character, Ni Bingyan had been through this enough times to remain relatively calm.

So, she also stood up, her expression serious.

"I’m sorry, but if your show requires me to appear on camera, you’ll probably need to speak with my manager first."