Chapter 118 - 88: Untitled
Mo Xiaoyu nibbled on her watermelon at the side.
She scooted away in disgust.
"A bunch of psychos. The exams are tomorrow, and they still stayed up all night watching the game."
The boys paid no mind to her disdain.
Once the topic was broached, the conversation flowed like a burst dam.
"Daluo was so damn good!"
Li Nanbai gestured excitedly.
"That haircut of his, shaped like a roof tile... it’s ugly as sin, but it works! An alien is an alien, after all."
Zhang Bai chimed in from the side, gritting his teeth.
"And don’t even get me started on those trash referees this time around! What the hell were those calls?!"
He slapped his thigh in frustration.
"The refs were completely blind! They blatantly cheated to carry the South Korea National Team, knocking out both Italy and Spain. It’s disgusting! If those shitty referees ever dared to come to our country, they’d get beaten so badly their souls wouldn’t know peace!"
"Tell me about it!"
Li Nanbai chimed in with a curse, feeling the same way.
"Watching those knockout matches was enough to give you a heart attack. It was straight-up robbery."
Zhou Kai couldn’t help but chime in.
"The standard of officiating in this World Cup really was a huge problem. The biased calls were just unbelievable!"
After they finished cursing out the referees, Zhang Bai sighed, his tone full of regret.
"Kahn was unlucky, too."
"He’d been making great saves the whole time, but he just had to fumble it in the final. When that ball slipped through his hands, I almost screamed."
Zhou Kai nodded.
"The Germany National Team’s midfield was completely suppressed yesterday. Without Ballack, their defensive steel dropped by more than a notch."
The boys passionately dissected last night’s epic match.
The pre-exam tension in the room was completely washed away by all the talk of soccer.
Chen Zhuo sat on the armchair by the window.
He held a slice of watermelon.
He listened to these young prodigies beating their chests and stomping their feet over a single goal.
He didn’t chime in.
He just nibbled on his watermelon, a faint smile playing on his lips.
After they finished discussing the final, the topic naturally shifted to the World Cup as a whole.
Li Nanbai’s eyes lit up.
He slapped his thigh, brimming with the unique, vibrant optimism of a 2002 soccer fan.
"Our national team might not have scored a single goal and got eliminated, but it’s still a historic breakthrough!"
Li Nanbai’s voice was filled with high hopes.
"Just think about it! Our current crop of players is so solid. We actually got to go head-to-head with the Brazil National Team in the World Cup."
He clenched his fist.
"As long as we keep up this momentum, we’ll only get fiercer. We’ll break out of Asia and take on the world! Next World Cup, we’ll make it to the Round of 16, for sure!"
Zhang Bai nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Yeah! I read in the papers that the pundits are saying the same thing. This time was about paying our dues, getting experience. Come 2006, we’ll definitely have a real shot!"
Even the more rational Zhou Kai had a hint of anticipation in his voice.
"They’re really cracking down on youth development now. We’ll get there, step by step."
Chen Zhuo sat on the sofa.
He had just taken a bite of watermelon.
Hearing Li Nanbai and Zhang Bai’s impassioned declarations, he froze.
Chen Zhuo slowly chewed the watermelon in his mouth.
He maintained a gentle smile on the surface.
He nodded along, even lifting the watermelon rind in his hand to give Li Nanbai a concurring nod from across the room.
But on the inside, he was one step away from coughing up blood.
’The 2002 World Cup wasn’t the beginning of their rise at all.’
’It was the goddamn last gasp.’
’From then on, forget the Round of 16.’
’They didn’t even get to fucking touch the World Cup turf ever again.’
A complex look appeared in Chen Zhuo’s eyes.
’In his past life, he’d gone into every qualifying round with a kind of blind, sentimental faith, deluding himself into thinking *this time* would be the one.’
’He’d even bet heavily on the national team to win a few times.’
’Dreaming of a villa by the sea.’
’And in the end, he’d fucking lost the shirt off his back, and then some.’
’All that money he’d thrown in vanished without a ripple. He never won a single bet back.’
’It all went straight to the fucking bookies.’
Looking at these three innocent boys before him, their hearts filled with boundless hope for the national team’s future.
Looking at the pristine foolishness in their eyes.
Chen Zhuo sighed to himself.
’Dream on while you still can.’
’The day will come when you’ll be throwing remotes and smashing TVs.’
’The bigger you smile now, the fouler your curses will be later.’
Chen Zhuo tossed the watermelon rind in his hand, landing it neatly in the trash can.
He pulled out a paper towel and wiped his hands.
"Alright."
Chen Zhuo glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was already half-past eight.
He stood up and clapped his hands together.
"We’re done talking about the game, and we’re done eating watermelon."
Chen Zhuo looked at Li Nanbai and Zhang Bai, who clearly weren’t finished yet.
"Go back to your rooms, shower, and get to bed."
Zhang Bai glanced at the time and got up from the edge of the bed.
Li Nanbai followed suit, standing up and stretching.
"Alright. After the exam tomorrow, I’ll head to the internet cafe and catch a couple of replays."
Everyone cleaned up the used tissues and sunflower seed shells from the table.
They each returned to their own rooms.
The doors closed.
The room fell quiet once more.
Chen Zhuo walked to the window.
He pulled back the curtains. The plum rain was still falling outside.
Chen Zhuo went to the desk and picked up the remote.
He turned on the TV.
He didn’t flip through the junk channels.
He went straight to the national broadcast channel.
The television emitted a low hum.
The screen flickered, and an image appeared.
He turned the volume down to the lowest setting; only a faint murmur echoed in the room.
A news replay was on the screen.
Chen Zhuo grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom.
「Fifteen minutes later.」
Chen Zhuo came out of the shower and walked over to the TV.
He pressed the power button.
The image on the screen instantly collapsed into a single point of light before vanishing.
The room plunged into darkness.
Only the faint, reflected glow of the city filtered in from outside the window.
Chen Zhuo walked to his bed, pulled back the covers, and slipped in.
Through the wall, he could hear the occasional sound of someone walking in the hallway.
And the ceaseless drumming of the rain outside.
Nine o’clock.
No one was burning the midnight oil.
No one was wrestling with permutations, combinations, or solid geometry.
Everything was calm.
Tomorrow.
July second.