Check out advanced chapters on P@treon: [email protected]/CosmicKaminari
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"Lance!! Over here!!"
"Vamos!!! (Come on, come on!)"
"Hurry!! Hey man!!"
"Pendejo!! (Idiot!)"
Vicente Calderón Stadium, also known as Wanda Metropolitano Stadium.
The cheers from the stands couldn't drown out the shouts from the pitch, where 22 players were intensely running and clashing.
One might think both sides were evenly matched and locked in a fierce struggle.
But a quick look up revealed otherwise.
Wow—
"The second half is currently in the 83rd minute, and Atlético Madrid is temporarily leading Celta Vigo 6-0."
"Atlético Madrid still maintains the initiative, continuously pressuring Celta Vigo."
"It's clear that the draw and loss in the two games before the New Year have put a lot of pressure on Atlético Madrid."
The commentator was also amused.
According to their usual style, Atlético Madrid typically wins by small margins.
After securing a lead, they would likely fall back into defence, using a low block in the 30-metre zone to wear down the opponent's stamina, conserving their own energy.
Real Madrid was also temporarily leading Atlético Madrid in the standings due to a superior goal difference.
In this match, it was clear that the Atlético Madrid players were very serious, perhaps even overly so.
It was like a boxing match where the Celta Vigo fighter was dazed and unable to retaliate, whilst the Atlético Madrid fighter still had him cornered, delivering a continuous barrage of punches.
Blame Real Madrid and Barcelona.
"Today, Lance's performance was still outstanding, with one assist and one goal in the first half, helping the team to a two-goal lead."
"In the second half, he created numerous excellent chances, single-handedly drawing all of Celta Vigo's attention. He continuously assisted Torres and Griezmann in scoring."
"Just now, it was Lance's world-class goal that extended the team's lead to 6-0!"
"With this, Lance has now scored 30 goals in 19 rounds!"
"He has set the record for the fastest player to reach 30 goals in La Liga history, and is also the youngest player to surpass 30 goals in the La Liga top scorer list."
The commentator got goosebumps just thinking about it.
In his first year in the Bundesliga, Lance broke Gerd Müller's record of 40 goals.
In his second year, he again broke his own record, scoring 47 goals, a feat unmatched in history.
In his first year in La Liga, 30 goals in 19 rounds!
Looking at the top scorer lists from other seasons, Diego Forlán, van Nistelrooy, Eto'o, Raúl... numerous world-class superstars didn't score more than 30 goals in an entire season!
Only two players have managed to break the 30-goal barrier: Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.
In the 2010/11 season, Cristiano Ronaldo set a new record with 40 goals.
In the 2011/12 season, during Barcelona's peak, Messi again broke the record with 50 goals.
Last season, Cristiano Ronaldo scored 48 goals, nearly breaking Messi's record.
Barring any surprises, Messi's 50-goal record should stand for at least 30 years or more.
Mundo Deportivo even published an article declaring, "This is La Liga's highest peak, from now on, no one can cross even half a step!"
Lionel Messi's name will forever be etched in the long history of La Liga.
Who would have thought that a black-haired, yellow-skinned Chinese man could challenge this insurmountable peak?
30 goals in 19 rounds!
There are still 19 rounds to go!
...
Atlético Madrid thrashed Celta Vigo 6-0. Griezmann and Saúl were eagerly preparing for interviews.
They both scored and assisted today, performing excellently.
But predictably, the cameras and reporters were all gathered around Lance.
"Damn it!! He's hogging all the limelight!"
"No choice, he's Lance. We should be happy to have such a powerful teammate."
"But it still stings!" Saúl gritted his teeth.
"Indeed." Koke mumbled in agreement.
"Limelight is earned through one's own play."
Griezmann, who usually seemed lively, casual, and often made lewd jokes, suddenly spoke a serious remark.
"I wonder if we'll have a chance against them in the European Cup this summer."
Griezmann gave a bitter smile.
Logically, the French National Team in 2016 was gradually developing the strength to win.
They had Giroud, himself, and Manchester United's Martial in attack.
Pogba in midfield, and Lloris in defence.
There were also two newly emerging monsters that filled Griezmann with confidence.
One was Mbappé, and the other was the relatively unknown defensive midfielder, Kanté, who suddenly rose to prominence this season at Leicester City in the Premier League.
Griezmann was determined to win the European Cup this year.
But looking at Lance's performance, and De Bruyne's performance at Manchester City, Griezmann was already starting to panic half a year in advance.
"Lance, you've scored 30 goals in 19 games, leading Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo by over 10 goals... Do you have confidence in breaking Messi's 50-goal record this season?"
This reporter was clearly trying to stir up trouble.
The 'Messi and Ronaldo show' between Messi and Ronaldo had lost its media hype; it was always the same old clichés.
But bringing in Lance this year changed everything.
The three attacking each other created different promotional combinations, making it more entertaining than ever.
According to Lance's usual style, he was generally low-key and humble.
The PR manager, Ms Hanna Mouller, dressed in an OL outfit, stood by, constantly winking at Lance.
The agent team's PR strategy hoped to build Lance's image as humble and sunny, to prevent him from appearing too arrogant.
People who are too arrogant rarely benefit.
Just look at the current public opinion in Spain; Messi's approval ratings are relatively higher everywhere.
Cristiano Ronaldo is also very popular, but he is also full of controversy.
When he wins, everyone praises him, but whenever he loses, public opinion will kick him whilst he's down.
Mendes and Ms Hanna Mouller were both very worried.
If public opinion spiralled out of control, this young man, Lance, would likely find it very difficult to cope.
Facing the reporter's question, Lance had been humble for half a year and no longer wanted to be.
Just look at how Barcelona and Real Madrid's mouthpieces, like Mundo Deportivo and Marca, smeared him.
Especially after the team lost in the previous two weeks, Lance seemed to be portrayed as Atlético Madrid's chief culprit, used to elevate Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi by putting him down.
Moreover, it was a Chinese, an East Asian, treading on the forbidden ground of these white people.
The more panicked the Spanish were, the more intense the smear campaign became.
Therefore, Lance ignored Ms Hanna Mouller's winks and showed a confident smile.
"The 50-goal record, you say? It doesn't feel very challenging. Why don't you be bolder and guess how many goals I'll score this season?"
After dropping that line, Lance, like a mic-dropping rapper, turned and walked away.
If he had a trench coat draped over his shoulders at that moment, it would have been even cooler.
The live stream's bullet comments would definitely have been flooded with "OHHHHHH—"
"Hey! Lance, wait a moment!"
"Lance!! Oh dear!"
No, sis?
Lance had intended to make a cool exit back to the changing room, but a panicked cry from behind broke his composure.
Ms Hanna Mouller lay on the ground, her face contorted in pain, clutching her ankle.
Lance quickly went to check on her.
"It's twisted, needs immediate ice application."
Lance, having experienced his share of bumps and bruises during training, understood basic sports injury treatment.
He crouched down, ready to carry her on his back, wanting to get Ms Hanna to the medical team faster.
"Hey, hey, no, no need!"
Ms Hanna, whose professional face was usually cold and serious, rarely showed such a touch of a young woman's shyness.
"We're all mates, what's there to be afraid of."
"I'm fine, can you help me to rest over there?"
Ms Hanna looked at him with her sparkling eyes.
"Alright then."
Anyway, it wasn't a serious situation, so Lance helped up the capable, blonde, mature woman.
During the process, he accidentally felt the softness in front, and Hanna let out a slight hum, not knowing if it was from ankle pain or some other reason, but her milky white face was completely flushed.
The stadium corridor was busy with people coming and going, and even if staff saw the two, it wasn't convenient to interrupt them at that moment.
Lance helped Hanna into the adjacent lounge, then turned to leave.
"Well…"
Hanna still wanted to say something, but seeing him leave mercilessly, she lowered her hand again.
It's normal.
A professional player, and a superstar in the spotlight.
In the team's schedule later, Lance also had to attend a press conference with Simeone.
Busy, being busy is good.
Anyway, Ms Hanna Mouller wasn't a key person, and a twisted ankle wasn't serious; a short rest would probably fix it.
Hanna quickly pulled out her phone to handle work.
Today, in addition to liaising with the club's PR and coordinating Lance's post-match public relations, there were also endorsement contracts with TAG Heuer, Armani, Mercedes-Benz, and other online marketing activities that required Lance's cooperation.
Engrossed in processing emails, Hanna was focused on typing rapidly on her phone, when she suddenly heard urgent yet orderly footsteps approaching. Before she could even look up, her high heels had already been removed, followed by a cold sensation that made Hanna involuntarily hum again.
"Mmm-hmm—"
"What are you doing?"
Western women don't seem to have the same tradition of shyness about their feet as Eastern women, but being held in a handsome man's hand was still a bit uncomfortable.
The high heels lay crooked on the ground, and Ms Hanna Mouller's size 38 small foot was placed on Lance's knee.
The cold touch of the ice pack made Hanna's pale toes, painted with red nail polish, involuntarily wiggle.
"Don't move."
Lance commanded unequivocally.
Usually, it was Hanna who regulated Lance's public words and actions, almost treating this big boy as a younger brother.
Suddenly being yelled at by him, Hanna looked at his caring demeanour and slightly domineering aura. Her chest inevitably fluttered.
"Can, can you let go now?"
Hanna didn't know why, but she, who never used a cutesy voice, suddenly spoke in a soft, weak tone.
Lance looked up at her with a strange expression.
As if to say, why are you acting like a cute girl too?
Because of the strong and powerful nature of German, her 'cutesy' voice was indeed quite noticeable.
"Then you handle it yourself, keep icing it."
Lance also felt something was off, because whilst squatting, his peripheral vision accidentally caught a glimpse of something from under her professional pencil skirt.
Plus, holding someone's foot wasn't really appropriate either.
"Well, you rest here for a bit, I'm going back to the changing room."
"Okay... you go."
Lance nodded and turned to leave.
"Lance!"
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing, you played great today."
Hanna, uncharacteristically, forced a smile and gave Lance a thumbs up.
"You should maintain this tone in the future."
"Hey! I'm not that fierce, alright!"
"Anyway, thank you."
Lance smiled brightly and turned to leave; he still had to attend a press conference with Simeone.
With Ms Hanna not around, he could finally speak his mind a little more freely.
Little did he know, after Lance left, Hanna gazed wistfully at his retreating figure, then smiled and shook her head.
"What are you thinking? My God, be professional, Hanna."
She admitted that the moment Lance crouched down to carry her, her heart did beat uneasily; she almost wanted to fall onto his broad back.
But at that moment, Hanna's mind flashed back to the scene of Lance hastily getting into a sports car in the car park on New Year's Eve.
A woman's intuition told her, Lance's expression at the time could not possibly have been for work reasons.
Combined with the occasional rumours that surfaced during his time at Bayer Leverkusen, it was most likely that exquisitely beautiful, Barbie-doll-like girl.