Chapter 46: Can You Really Handle That?
"Mr. Crozier, I've heard things haven't been going smoothly for you at Royal Mail lately."
After discussing Bayswater Chinese, Yang Cheng naturally steered the conversation toward the real reason for tonight's dinner.
Adam Crozier looked genuinely surprised.
He had originally assumed Yang Cheng had simply wanted to meet him, maybe learn a thing or two.
Now it seemed he'd underestimated this young man's courage—and ambition.
"Just some minor issues," Crozier said casually, clearly not wanting to elaborate.
Yang Cheng understood.
This man sitting across from him was no pushover.
Back when Crozier was at the FA, he'd flipped the entire institution on its head—and nearly gained control of the Premier League.
Then he moved to Royal Mail and made waves there too.
Before Crozier took over, Royal Mail was reportedly losing £1.5 million per day.
Yes—per day.
Most people thought he'd walked into an impossible situation.
Everyone in the UK knew Royal Mail was a mess—slow service, terrible customer satisfaction, constant delays, missing packages. Complaints rolled in by the thousands each year.
If not for the fact that it held a 99% monopoly on the UK postal market, it would've collapsed.
The government pumped hundreds of millions in subsidies into Royal Mail every year.
Then Crozier came in and, just like at the FA, launched sweeping reforms. Out of 200,000 postal workers, he cut over 30,000 in one go.
He trimmed the fat, streamlined management, and turned the company around.
In 2003, Royal Mail turned a profit for the first time in decades.
But success came at a cost.
Crozier became a lightning rod for criticism.
In both 2003 and 2004, postal workers launched major strikes, making his life hell.
Top among the criticisms? He was getting paid too much—huge salary, huge bonuses.
Some media even called him the highest-paid public sector employee in Britain.
Naturally, if Yang Cheng was going to meet Crozier, he'd done his homework.
"To be honest, Mr. Crozier, I think staying at Royal Mail is a waste of your talents."
Sitting beside him, Xia Qing glanced over at Yang Cheng, her eyes seeming to say: You finally said it.
Bold move.
Crozier himself looked a little stunned.
Was this a poaching attempt?
A Championship club, with modest annual revenue, trying to recruit him?
Instead of getting offended, Crozier chuckled.
"Mr. Yang, I'm not Mark Palios or David Davies. Do you even know how much I earn?"
"I do," Yang Cheng nodded.
"The Independent reported that your base salary plus bonuses totals about £1 million. But it's also said you signed a long-term incentive plan with Royal Mail's banking arm."
And that's exactly where the problem lay.
The salary and bonus? Fair enough. Nothing shocking for an executive.
But that incentive plan tied Crozier's earnings to both his personal performance and company profitability.
Back then, with Royal Mail hemorrhaging £1.5 million a day, nobody thought profits were remotely possible.
So when that deal was signed, no one cared.
No one thought it mattered.
But Crozier defied expectations.
He slashed jobs, implemented brutal reforms—things others wouldn't dare do.
And he pulled it off.
In 2003, Royal Mail posted profits.
According to the incentive plan, he was now owed not just salary and bonuses—but a massive performance payout.
On one side, thousands of workers were being fired.
On the other, Crozier was getting a financial windfall.
Can you really blame people for losing it?
Crozier became a target of public outrage.
"If I'm not mistaken, your club's revenue last year didn't exceed £5 million," Crozier said. "Even with promotion to the Championship, it's unlikely to be much higher this year."
He smiled as he looked at Yang Cheng. "Can you afford to pay me?"
That was Xia Qing's exact question.
So when Crozier said it aloud, she turned to look at Yang Cheng too.
Yang Cheng was ready. He glanced at his beautiful senior and flashed a confident smile.
"You're absolutely right, Mr. Crozier. But I don't think your current income is the right benchmark. Realistically, your market value is around £1 million a year in salary and bonuses."
Palios and Davies, who succeeded Crozier at the FA, were only earning £450,000 a year.
Crozier didn't deny it.
"Let's set Bayswater Chinese aside for a moment. Let's just talk about your situation at Royal Mail."
Yang Cheng chuckled and continued, "From what I see, your good days there are numbered. I'm not worried about strikes or protests—but what about the internal resistance?"
Crozier's face turned serious.
He knew Yang Cheng was right.
Yes, his moves were bold, even ruthless.
But internally, the pushback was enormous.
Plenty of people wanted him gone.
"This is a mess that's been festering for decades, maybe even a century. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it—you're not going to fix it."
"That's why I've heard the UK government is already discussing postal reform. Am I wrong?"
Crozier's expression changed drastically.
"How do you know that?"
Even Xia Qing was surprised.
Yang Cheng didn't explain. How could he?
He couldn't exactly say: Because I'm a time traveler and in my past life I coached in England for years.
He even knew that from January 1st, 2006, Royal Mail's 350-year monopoly would end. Companies like DHL, FedEx, and others would enter the market.
If the start date was already set, then discussions and legislation had to be happening even earlier.
But all Yang Cheng could do now was keep the mystery alive.
"You need to really think about what happens when Royal Mail loses its monopoly," he said.
It was a brutal shot straight to the heart.
Because this was exactly the issue that had been haunting Crozier lately.
"We're still a small club right now," Yang Cheng admitted. "And yes, we can't afford your salary—yet. But once we get promoted to the Premier League, we'll have no problem."
"Promotion to the Premier League?" Crozier looked stunned again.
A newly promoted Championship team, just six rounds into the season, talking about Premier League promotion?
"Don't be surprised, Mr. Crozier."
Yang Cheng's tone remained calm and confident.
"Just keep my words in mind today. Hold on to my offer. Come May next year, look back on this conversation—there'll be a surprise waiting for you."
Until now, Crozier had thought he'd seen right through this young man.
But suddenly, he realized it was the other way around.
Yang Cheng had read him like a book.
"To be honest, Mr. Crozier, I think you're a rare talent—especially in football. That's why I've gone out of my way to invite you. I hope we get a chance to work together."
"I imagine when you left the FA, you had something to prove."
"Well now, Bayswater Chinese and I can give you that chance—to return to football and show everyone what you're truly capable of."
"That's all I'll say. You don't need to decide now. Think about it. I'll be waiting for your call."
…
"Good God, Yang Cheng, you are something else!"
"You didn't see it—Adam Crozier looked completely stunned by you just now!"
Walking out of the restaurant, Xia Qing looked at Yang Cheng like she didn't even recognize him.
She had no idea when her junior had gotten so sharp.
That was Adam Crozier!
A million-pound salary. One of the most respected professional managers in the UK.
Yang Cheng just chuckled inside. What's the big deal?
Back in my previous life, I managed players earning ten million a year. Still handled them like a boss.
"Wait a second," Xia Qing suddenly paused, thinking.
"What?"
"I feel like… you've set me up. More than once."
"Unjust accusation, Senior! I swear on my life, my feelings for you are pure and sincere."
Yang Cheng's tone was layered with meaning.
Xia Qing hesitated. She had words—but couldn't say them.
"And besides, Senior, I'm just desperate to find talent."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Yang Cheng grinned. "Didn't you say working at a big firm like Goldman Sachs is exhausting? High pressure, long hours—basically a financial sweatshop. Why not come work with me?"
"I'll make you our CFO. You'll handle all our assets."
"What about that Uncle Lin of yours?"
"My dad wants him to come back to China to help him."
Yang Cheng deflected casually.
Truth was, Lin Zhongqiu couldn't keep up with the pace anymore.
And his capabilities were limited.
"You're really that confident you'll get promoted this season?" Xia Qing asked, intrigued.
Yang Cheng didn't answer.
His confidence said it all.
"Alright then—what do you think of Adam Crozier?" he asked, changing the subject.
"I've heard of him. He's definitely talented. And after tonight, it's clear he understands professional football well."
That was why Yang Cheng valued him so much.
He didn't just have management chops—he understood football.
And he had the connections.
The Premier League was on the cusp of change.
Foreign capital hadn't flooded in yet. Talented executives from other industries were still watching from the sidelines.
Finding someone who understood both football and business was nearly impossible.
That's why Abramovich had tried so hard to poach Peter Kenyon from Manchester United.
Top-tier executives were in short supply.
If Bayswater Chinese wanted to leapfrog the competition, they had to strike first.
Crozier was the best candidate Yang Cheng could think of.
In his past life, Crozier hadn't stayed at Royal Mail long. He later moved to ITV, then BT, and delivered strong results at both.
And both companies would later compete with Sky Sports in the football broadcasting market.
Crozier's track record in football-adjacent industries was rock solid.
Whether he would accept, Yang Cheng remained cautiously optimistic.
"Then it's settled. Once we get promoted, Crozier becomes our CEO. Senior, you'll be our CFO."
"Deal's a deal!"
And without waiting for her reply, Yang Cheng strode confidently ahead.
Xia Qing watched him, baffled.
Where did this guy get his confidence?
Was he really going to make it to the Premier League?
And yet… she couldn't help but start to believe.
And even—look forward to it.
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