"One million."
Strutz sputtered, turning to Heidel in disbelief. "One million? RMB?"
"Euros!"
"My god, you couldn't get that much even if you sold me."
"We've never won the Bundesliga or the DFB-Pokal. Who could have imagined this?" Heidel was also at a loss for words.
He couldn't just run out and tell the players, 'Hey, how about we don't win the title?'
That would be even more absurd, wouldn't it?
Besides, winning the title comes with hefty prize money.
"What about the Champions League and the UEFA Europa League?"
"Champions League is 500,000. UEFA Europa League is 300,000."
Strutz paced back and forth in the office, unable to stay still.
This meant that based on the future he had just promised in the locker room—winning the DFB-Pokal and qualifying for the Champions League—the club would have to pay out 1.5 million euros in bonuses to Wang Shuo alone.
'Dear God, what kind of cosmic joke is this?'
But could you really blame Heidel for this?
Not at all!
