"Haha..." The reporter was directly amused, with a few traces of speechlessness in his expression. "Then, similarly, are the La Liga defenders also unfamiliar with you?"
"Enough!"
Fabregas stepped forward to grab the reporter’s press badge, frowning, "Are you a reporter from the Spanish dia?"
"Yes." The reporter nodded, smiling as he said, "Please answer my question."
"I have very little playing ti." Fabregas threw out an excuse, gritting his teeth, "Calculating by the ti per goal, my efficiency is higher."
The reporter didn’t plan to let him off, pointing out the flaws in his previous words, "And you said he has more shooting rights and offensive focus, but you don’t, right?
"Doesn’t this represent your predicant in the Spanish league, which is sothing you don’t want to face?
"It’s very strange, why did you abandon Arsenal, who treated you as a treasure, and co to Barça, which puts you in a predicant?"
Fabregas’s teeth were chattering, his body slightly trembling, and his fist under the table was already clenched.
The reporter noticed this, stood up to pack his microphone, ready to leave, and before going, he didn’t forget to make a final heart-wrenching comnt, "Lastly, Fabregas, you should compare him with your performance at 18.
"You’ve already considered him a player of the sa level as you are now, which doesn’t match the indifference you previously showed towards him."
Fabregas suddenly erupted, hating when others brought this up because it was the point he feared most, "But I have championship titles! He has nothing! Understand?!
"Staying at Arsenal, he’ll have nothing, even if he’s better than I was at 18!"
The reporter was startled, took two steps back, and his press badge fell to the ground. As he reached to pick it up, everyone saw the Arsenal jersey under his vest.
"Hehe..." Being found out, he chuckled awkwardly, pointed at the TV, and said, "By the way, I think Arsenal will win this match. Goodbye."
"Cut it!"
"Cut it all!"
"Bang!"
That day, all the Barcelona players heard the sound of a glass cup shattering from upstairs.
...
London, beside White Hart Lane.
The Arsenal bus slowly arrived, attracting a siege from many Tottenham fans.
"Fack you!"
"Bitch!!"
"Ma’el, if you have the guts, co down!!"
They threw rotten eggs and tomatoes at the bus, mixed with so leaves... even the police couldn’t stop so who took advantage of the chaos to cause trouble.
Ma’el sat on the bus, watching their antics, and joked with Van Persie beside him, "Add so bacon, so at, you can make a hamburger and replenish so energy."
"Haha..." Van Persie laughed twice, looking at the eggs and tomatoes on the bus window, feeling less affected and finding it sowhat cute instead.
"Season tickets."
Wenger ca to Ma’el at this mont, holding four tickets, "You’ve seen the situation outside, should I have the staff give it to them?"
"No problem." Ma’el glanced outside and said, "I’ll get off at the railing, I promised to give it to them personally."
"Be careful." Wenger handed the tickets to Ma’el, secretly amazed, not expecting Ma’el to be so attentive to such matters.
"Bullshit!"
"Slut!"
Soon, the bus slowly stopped at the railing, and the Arsenal players quickly walked through the red carpet amid the insults to enter the stadium.
"Bastards without parents!"
"Poor thing!"
"Do you need grandpa’s pity?"
Ma’el had it worse, his background gave these fans the opportunity to attack and ridicule him.
He gritted his teeth silently, glared at these few Tottenham fans, noted it in his heart, and then walked towards the corner of the railing.
He was now Ma’el, without a doubt, feeling a few strands of anger and sadness rising in his heart, unsure whether to mourn for his life’s background or miss his parents from his past life.
But it was okay; the blossom of the plum flower cos from the bitter cold... What doesn’t defeat him will only make him stronger and more resilient.
"He actually dares to co over?"
"What’s he going to do?"
Many Tottenham fans saw Ma’el heading towards the guardrail post and quickly crowded over, looking at him in astonishnt, even forgetting to throw the eggs.
Ma’el quickly found those four fans, their characteristics were very distinct.
"Long ti no see."
He walked up, under the abuse and the watchful eyes of hundreds of Tottenham fans, with the warst smile, embraced the little girl standing at the front.
The little girl’s complexion changed, yet she couldn’t express her emotions, clearly feeling the pressure from the Tottenham fans.
In a hurry, with tears in her eyes, she stamred and pointed constantly at the door leading into the stadium, suggesting Ma’el go inside first.
"Go in quickly, Ma’el! I know what she wants to say, we will always be your fans in this lifeti!"
The old man in a wheelchair showed his affection towards Ma’el, and David and the little boy quickly nodded, agreeing with the sentint.
The little girl was still anxious, she ca to the back of David, placing a paper on his back, quickly writing sothing.
When she lifted the paper, Ma’el saw the words, they were very simple: "I will always love you, today I wore the jersey you left a ssage on, hoping they won’t bully anymore, hoping I can celebrate your goal ’loudly.’"
The little girl tugged at her jersey, cried while smiling, and made a fist gesture at Ma’el to cheer him on.
Within Ma’el’s heart surged a mix of complex emotions—tenderness, pain, sympathy—all entwining, leaving him unsure of what to do.
"What’s your na?" he asked as he stepped forward.
"—Chloe."
She wrote down her na and showed it to Ma’el.
Ma’el patted her shoulder, knowing the aning of this na, budding and youth, yet it was unfortunate the girl’s childhood and adolescence weren’t happy.
Hoping he could bring her happiness on the football field... he confird sothing in his heart, turned around, and hugged the other three.
"Co on, Ma’el!"
"You’re the best!"
"Win the derby for us!"
"Thanks for your season tickets, if you need us to do anything for you, please be sure to contact us... although we may not be able to help you much."
Ma’el nodded to comfort them, before leaving, saw Chloe hurriedly writing sothing, so he waited a bit.
"—King!"
Seeing the smile on her face, Ma’el’s heart seed to lt; he gave a gentle smile and waved to her one last ti.
Then he headed towards today’s battleground.
.....
Monthly update: 31.5K, Goal: 540K
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