Chapter 107 — The British Sweetheart and the Magical Girl
At the Emirates Stadium, Arsène Wenger and the substitute players burst onto the pitch to celebrate.
Far away at Manchester's Carrington training base, Sir Alex Ferguson sighed, a mixture of envy, irritation, and sourness in his mutter: "Arsène, have some shame. How old are you playing with kids? What a lucky fellow. Damn Manchester City — they say distant relatives are not as good as neighbors; why give me a break but not give others one? I hate neighbors like you!"
A roar pierced Manchester's night sky… and thus the derby legend was born.
At the estate of the Florentino Pérez in Madrid, José Mourinho and the presidente were together.
"José, that kid at Arsenal is not bad."
"Yes, Arsenal doesn't deserve him."
"You think Arsenal doesn't deserve him too?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"His position and Cristiano Ronaldo's…"
"No conflict. Xia Qi can play left winger, center forward, even attacking midfielder."
"If you win the Champions League, he'll be your gift before next season starts."
"Thank you. If that happens, I'll found an entirely new dynasty here."
Florentino was pleased with Mourinho's work, though Real Madrid fans were not happy with a 1–0 tactical approach.
As everyone knows, the ungrateful wolves at the Bernabéu are the harshest supporters on the planet.
And Real remains a membership club, so Florentino Pérez can't ignore the "votes" of the fans.
But that didn't stop him from PUA-ing Mourinho; after drawing the big cake, the two happily raised cocktails.
It wasn't all PUA — Florentino genuinely had interest in buying Xia Qi.
Whether Mourinho would be the coach who would manage Xia Qi after buying him was another matter.
In Munich at Bayern's headquarters, Karl-Heinz Rummenigge and Pep Guardiola were talking.
"Josep, what do you think of the kid?"
"Are you doubting Coach Hais' eye? But he'd probably be like Messi — not for sale."
Rummenigge wore a strange smile.
Pep yelled: "Wenger won't be that foolish, will he?"
"Mr. Wenger certainly won't," Rummenigge replied. "But Stan Kroenke is a businessman — you see what I mean?"
"Sir, he's my Messi — no! He's even more moldable than Messi…"
…
In the dressing room,
"Ouch, ouch… a bit softer…"
Xia Qi winced as the physio worked on him while he received system notifications.
"Ding — this match has ended. Calculating rewards…"
"This match the host played 88 minutes, participation A+, performance S+, reward: 10 attribute points."
"Ding — host awarded Premier League Man of the Match, reward: 5 attribute points."
"Ding — host achieved Champions League five-goal haul in a single match for the first time, reward: 5 attribute points."
"Ding — host completed hidden task, reward: Kingly Aura attribute."
"Ding — regional legend +1."
"Ding — regional legend +1."
"…"
At the post-match press conference:
Tito Vilanova was most asked by reporters: how likely is Barcelona to progress to the semis?
"Trailing by three goals is a significant gap, but we once came back from two down to eliminate AC Milan, so if we can do it from two down, we can also do it from three down against Arsenal."
Xia Qi, who scored five in the match, was lauded by the media afterward.
"Mr. Vilanova, during the match we saw you clasp your head and call to God several times — do you only pray to God when in trouble?"
"You might say, double up on Xia Qi, or do this or that. But I ask you: when Messi is in that mad state, how effective is extra marking? What tactic can truly stop a Messi in that mode? That big boy is the same — no one can subdue him except God."
"Tonight Xia Qi's five goals equaled Messi's single-match European record for 2011–2012."
"A superhuman can't be restricted by tactics."
"Does that mean in the next round we'll be helpless against him?"
"We have Messi. Using one hero to beat another is one approach; another is to cut off the hero's connections. We have a week to study new strategies."
Wenger's view differed from Tito Vilanova's. He believed Arsenal's victory was the result of a whole-team effort.
Of course reporters knew this was diplomatic talk.
They thought there'd be no juicy headlines to dig out of the suave Wenger.
But Wenger went on: "We hope to erase the history of finishing seasons without trophies. Now we want to challenge for a domestic-league and Champions League double."
The reporters perked up — the ever-polite Wenger would not make hollow boasts…
"Ice-Cream Prince's counter-killing 'one-man show,' Arsenal set sights on the double."
"Prince crowned at the Emirates, Wenger vows to go for both trophies."
"The man who gave Sir Alex and 'The Magician' nightmares returns with the European Golden Boot!"
…
All first-leg Champions League quarterfinal results:
Arsenal 5–2 Barcelona,
Paris Saint-Germain 2–2 Juventus,
Málaga 0–0 Borussia Dortmund,
Real Madrid 3–0 Galatasaray.
The second legs would be played eight days later.
…
That night after the match,
Xia Qi's whole body ached; he declined to party with teammates.
The paparazzi tailing him assumed he'd be meeting that busty female reporter — after all, he seemed so hungry on the pitch — and followed him home, waiting all night, only to be left with nothing but loneliness.
"Fuck, we should've followed Balotelli."
"No, this is the story."
"Ah! Boss, we didn't get any shots?"
Their editor smugly pulled out a pen and scribbled:
"All-team nightclub revelry after thrashing Barça — Xia Qi conspicuously absent, rumors about Xia Qi's sexual orientation."
"Huge scoop! Team disharmony behind the victory? Xia Qi shunned by teammates and skipped team bonding?"
"Is it moral collapse or human corruption? The Champions League hero ostracized by his team!"
"What do you think? Good headline?"
"Boss — perfect! All three are great."
"One to The Sun, one to The Times, one to…"
"One story sold to three outlets — brilliant!"
The next day all of London, even the whole of the UK, talked about Arsenal's alleged dressing-room problems.
Xia Qi returned from his morning jog, showered, and downstairs Jack said: "Xia, we support you."
Xia Qi assumed he meant support about the match and murmured consent. At that moment Emma approached, hesitating.
Xia Qi sized her up and said, "You want an autograph or to borrow money?"
Emma thought for a moment and gathered herself: "You don't like Emma and me, and that big scary reporter, right?"
Xia Qi could only give a noncommittal "mmhmm" — what other answer was there?
Emma sighed and patted Xia Qi's shoulder: "Relax, I support you! I won't judge you."
"Judge me about what?"
Emma waved it off without answering and went to class with a worried look.
Xia Qi, puzzled, drove to training.
At the entrance to the Colney training ground, reporters swarmed him.
"Xia, can you talk about the dressing-room issue?"
"You and Wil — who would win between you two?"
"Which of you does Mr. Wenger favor?"
"I heard you don't like girls — what are your requirements in a partner?"
Boom!
Xia Qi was stunned… the echo of "you don't like girls" filled his head — no, it was noise!
He felt as if he'd understood something, yet also nothing at all…
Sitting at home, calamity falls from the sky.
"What are you saying? I don't understand."
After ten o'clock, his teammates came into the dressing room one by one, puzzled.
They'd been out late last night and hadn't had time to watch the morning news — like Xia Qi, they only learned of the scandal at the training ground.
Xia Qi handed his teammates the morning papers he'd grabbed from the reading room.
"WTF! Isn't this nonsense? Hey Xia, are you really having orientation issues?"
"Shut up!"
"I'm one meter eighty-nine and doing a Messi stoop — you think that's easy? You didn't go partying last night, decided to be out, and you mock me?"
"That's a good idea!"
"What?"
Mikel Arteta clapped his hands: "Brothers, tonight we'll hold a party with female companions. No one in the squad is allowed to miss it. This will clear all these lies. Xia, call Emma and ask her to bring some celebrity friends."
"Vice-captain, I know Kaya Scodelario…" young Luke Shaw, younger than Xia Qi, said. "I can try inviting Cheryl."
"Wow!"
"Captain, I didn't expect you to be that kind of guy."
Thomas Vermaelen scratched his head awkwardly: "I said 'try.'"
At this time Cheryl was Britain's sweetheart, much more famous than Emma. The difference between the two was like two big stars.
Cheryl's ex-husband was former Arsenal player Ashley Cole; they met in 2006 and divorced in 2010.
Now Cheryl was single, so inviting her wouldn't be a "wife-swap" scandal.
…
A players' party draws attention.
Although a bit rushed, many socialites showed up: Cheryl, Emma, Kaya, Collins… the food, music, and the beautiful people were all present.
Emma had tightened her chest area that night to appear fuller and chose a dress that revealed half a breast.
At twenty-four Emma was indeed beautiful; under flattering lights that lovely face and the glimpsed curve made Xia Qi swallow.
Xia Qi's celibacy period had ended; his hormones had nowhere to go.
Just then, a sharp-eyed waiter brought over two cocktails at the perfect moment.
The English customarily have a drink; Emma had been rumored to drink secretly while filming the Harry Potter cast.
The "lady drunkard" could talk at length about cocktail culture.
"Ding dong — detected host urgently needs mixed-drink culture and technique. 30,000 regional legend points can be redeemed."
"Redeem."
In Xia Qi's mind the cocktail-making methods and cultural notes immediately appeared.
Two people with similar interests often chat easily.
After chatting happily, Xia Qi took off his jacket and went behind the bar; he mixed a martini for Emma with tequila + vodka + coffee + egg white, garnished with an olive.
"My martini — strong, awakening, long finish. Try it."
System-made, must be fine!
Emma took a sip and immediately collapsed into it. She'd already had a bit of a crush on Xia Qi; now she became more infatuated.
Their interaction attracted attention.
To the socialites, players are "rural rich guys" — few are truly cultured.
Cheryl, the nation's sweetheart, approached skeptically: "Can you make one for me?"
"Of course — it's an honor to serve you."
Cheryl tasted it and said: "Dry martini! It's okay, but I prefer it sweet."
"Can you be more specific? Maybe I can tailor one to your taste."
"I like sweets, but not cloying — something that leaves a fragrant aftertaste…"
"That martini won't suit you. I'll make you an Angel's Kiss."
As the name suggests, Angel's Kiss is sweet as a kiss from an angel.
Xia Qi mixed rum + brandy + red wine + fresh milk in proportion and garnished with a cherry.
Cheryl tasted it and blinked in surprise: "Were you a bartender before you played football?"
"This is delicious! I swear I'm not flattering — it's really good."
Women are naturally curious; nearly all of them gathered around.
"Can you make me one…"
"I like …"
"Xia, I'm Kaya…"
Xia Qi refused no one and cheerfully took on the promising bartending job. As he mixed, he noticed a few hostile glances locking onto him.
He looked up and saw Mario Balotelli making a throat-slitting gesture.
Xia Qi scanned the room and realized he'd walked into a land of women.
Damn — the locker-room rift rumor might be coming true.
"Ladies, enjoy these cocktails. I'll just pop to the restroom."
No choice — a tactical exit.
Leaving the restroom, he bumped into Cheryl while washing his hands.
At thirty, Cheryl was at a woman's most beautiful age; sweet-looking, devilish figure, a European style icon.
They chatted casually while washing hands.
As they walked out together, Cheryl's drunkenness made her sway. Xia Qi steadied her.
In that instant their eyes met!
The alcohol heightened sensations; love at first sight can exist in reality.
Cheryl kissed him; Xia Qi's head buzzed and he lost himself.
They kissed as they walked back to the restroom.
Xia Qi was inexperienced, but Cheryl was practiced…
After a few bouts, Xia Qi returned to the party.
The fierce fire in his heart had not been extinguished by repeated encounters; it raged stronger.
After greeting his captain Mikel Arteta, he took Emma away.
Emma had come for him; the two were mutually attracted and at the hotel later engaged in more trysts.
The next morning
Xia Qi woke up rubbing his slightly swollen head, recalling the previous night.
He felt ridiculous!
His first time gone just like that — alcohol is powerful.
He patted Emma's butt: "Lazybones, get up."
"You go first, Xia. I'm too tired."
Xia Qi tenderly brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her: "Sorry, I was too wild last night."
Emma wrapped her arms around Xia Qi's neck and kissed him: "No, I like it! Let me rest; tonight I'll wear a maid outfit…"
On April 6, Premier League Matchday 32 kicked off. West Brom at home lost 0–3 to Arsenal; Manchester United lost 1–2 at home to Manchester City.
After this round, Manchester United trailed Arsenal by four points — Arsenal's title prospects suddenly brightened.
On April 12 Arsenal traveled to Barcelona. Emma saw Xia Qi off at the airport; their relationship had been sweet and frequent in public, often photographed together, and was semi-public.
(END CHAPTER)
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Bankai10