Li Ang once again felt the system's "affection."
Seeing the 30 points land in his account, plus a golden, gleaming Champions League First Victory Gift Pack, his smile almost split his face in two.
Xabi Alonso, thinking Li Ang was simply overjoyed by the win, patted him on the head.
"Don't get too excited—there'll be plenty more chances like this. Co on, let's go thank the fans."
Li Ang didn't explain. He simply tucked his grin away, fell in step beside Alonso, and followed him toward their teammates, who were still embracing and high-fiving after the win.
He gave Cristiano Ronaldo a familiar pat on the backside, tugged Marcelo's hair, exchanged a fist bump and hug with Di María, then lined up with the squad to applaud the Bernabéu stands in all directions.
Everything looked harmonious. The team had won decisively, and both the starters and fans were glowing with happiness.
So substitutes might've felt a bit down about not getting any minutes. But all they could do was double down in training and earn their chances next ti.
Self-pity was useless—at least under Mourinho.
If you worked hard, even if you weren't on good terms with him, you'd get a shot.
But if you did nothing but whine? There was no place for you at Real Madrid.
After the pitchside applause, the players headed back to the locker room, where they bantered and joked before beginning recovery therapy.
They had only two and a half days before they'd have to travel to face Real Sociedad away.
No ti for a break. Training resud the next afternoon.
So the players got their massages, packed up, and headed ho.
Li Ang, buoyed by the points and his new reward pack, was in an especially good mood.
After catching a ride ho with Alonso, he didn't rush to open the pack.
He opted instead for a high-carb, high-protein dinner, then collapsed into bed for a proper night's rest.
His plan was to open it calmly after the next day's recovery session.
But the next afternoon, just as he parked his second-hand SEAT Ibiza at Valdebebas, Benzema—getting out of his car at the sa ti—delivered so less-than-welco news.
"That guy's agent made a bit too much noise. I heard the president called the coach this morning too. You know how it is—coach personally requested him during the sumr window. If he drops him now, the board's going to push back. Just be ready for it, Little Lion."
Li Ang listened quietly, then patted Benzema's arm in thanks and nodded, his expression composed.
That day's training started under a subtle but distinct tension.
The players who had played the night before were placed in a recovery group, while the others went through a regular training session on the adjacent pitch.
The full-team drills wouldn't resu until the next morning, aning Li Ang and "a certain attacking midfielder" hadn't crossed paths yet.
Not that there was any desire for communication between them.
Especially not after the player's agent gave an interview that morning, laced with snide remarks:
"Of course Real Madrid's youth academy is excellent. But I don't think a player who cost the club €18 million was brought here to sit on the bench. While Kaká is injured, my client should be getting more opportunities to prove himself."
After those words made headlines, any potential for friendly dialogue between Li Ang and the so-called deadweight attacking midfielder vanished completely.
Mourinho made a brief appearance, handed off the session to Karanka, and disappeared into his office.
Once Li Ang and the rest of the recovery group finished their massages, Karanka approached him near the physio area.
"Li Ang, coach wants to see you."
Cristiano seed to sense sothing was off. He mumbled sothing in his native Portuguese dialect that most others didn't understand.
Even Marcelo, usually all smiles, went quiet and glanced at Li Ang with furrowed brows.
Several of the players subtly shifted their expressions.
Finally, Alonso patted Li Ang on the shoulder.
"Go. Talk to him properly. Don't get arrogant, but don't back down either. Don't forget—you're not just so random academy kid without backup. Understand what I'm saying?"
Li Ang turned and t Alonso's steady gaze.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronaldo, still proudly aloof, give him a small nod.
Marcelo leaned in, cupped his hand to Li Ang's ear, and whispered quickly:
"I'm on your side."
Then winked.
Li Ang couldn't help but grin. He ruffled Marcelo's hair with practiced ease, gave a respectful nod to Ronaldo and Alonso, and briskly followed Karanka out.
Three minutes later, Li Ang sat once again in his now-familiar seat across from Mourinho.
They said nothing for a mont.
Mourinho rubbed his temples, a deep furrow between his brows.
Then finally, he broke the silence.
"At first, I had high hopes for him. Even though he's poor defensively, and his physicality isn't ideal, his reading of the ga and passing ability convinced to bring him in.
I didn't co to Madrid just to rebuild. I ca to bring this club back to where it belongs—to win the trophies it deserves."
Mourinho's tone was half confession, half frustration.
And Li Ang understood.
This was the pressure Mourinho lived under.
Real Madrid already had a stacked squad, and still, the coach had spent tens of millions over the sumr, handpicking young midfielders for his vision.
At the ti, Li Ang was grinding away at Real Betis, not even on Mourinho's radar.
The manager had a clear plan for his midfield: Khedira for defense, the new attacking midfielder for creativity, Alonso for orchestration.
That was the foundation of the rebuild.
But when so first-team and promoted players began preseason, Mourinho "discovered" Li Ang—a rough diamond hidden in plain sight.
He was exactly the kind of player Mourinho loved.
So when Lassana Diarra was injured unexpectedly, Mourinho imdiately halted the loan deal for Li Ang and kept him with the first team.
The original idea was simple:
Let Li Ang hold the line temporarily. Once Khedira adapted and Diarra returned, loan him back out for further developnt.
But things didn't go according to plan.
Li Ang didn't just fill in. He shined—so much so that Mourinho and the coaching staff had to rethink their entire midfield plan.
He forced his way into the discussion.
And the trio of Alonso, Khedira, and Li Ang ended up looking even more balanced and functional than Mourinho's initial blueprint.
It seed like the hardest part of the rebuild had been solved—until the attacking midfielder's agent opened his mouth.
Now, Mourinho had to deal with the fallout from his own decisions.
He had brought this headache on himself.
First, Mourinho had personally scouted and recruited the player. He'd promised to develop him, and now, if he just tossed him onto the bench, even he wouldn't feel right about it.
Second, Real Madrid had spent a full €18 million to bring this attacking midfielder in from the Bundesliga. If he now used him as a backup, that would make the signing look bad, plain and simple.
Third—and this was the most critical point—the guy really was good. His passing vision and ability to deliver threatening balls in the final third were better than any other midfielder in Madrid's current first team.
So, even Mourinho—who prided himself on decisive action—was finding this situation uniquely thorny.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have sat Li Ang down and offered this rare, almost apologetic explanation.
Li Ang was quiet for a mont.
He understood. He really did.
But just like Xabi Alonso had told him—not being arrogant didn't an he shouldn't fight for his own interests.
If he could keep starting and developing at Real Madrid, of course he'd love that.
But now, just because this so-called "deadweight" attacking midfielder sat on the bench for three gas, he was demanding his starting spot back? And when Diarra returned from injury, there'd be another challenger?
Sooner or later, he'd have to have this conversation with Mourinho. It was just a matter of timing.
Now was as good a ti as any.
With his thoughts clear, Li Ang dropped the question directly:
"Boss, can you guarantee a starting position? One hundred percent?"
Mourinho didn't even need to think. He shook his head imdiately.
"No. I can't.
When Diarra returns, even if he's behind you in the pecking order, the two of you will need to rotate.
Right now, you're my top choice at holding midfield—but that doesn't an you're undisputed.
You're not there yet. You understand what I an, right?"
Mourinho's answer was realistic. Honest.
Li Ang wasn't upset. In fact, he respected the honesty.
To be fair, the only players at Madrid right now who could expect true guaranteed status were Cristiano Ronaldo and Alonso.
Their level was undeniable. There were no replacents for them in the global market.
Li Ang had perford exceptionally in this new tactical system, but he knew his limits.
Aside from aerial duels, he couldn't confidently say he was better than Diarra in all aspects.
If he couldn't create a performance gap within the sa role, how could he demand Mourinho drop a top attacking midfielder to give him all the minutes?
"Fifteen starts.
By the end of the season, I'll clean out so of the midfield surplus.
If you stay through winter, you'll have even more chances next year."
Mourinho saw the clarity and resolve in Li Ang's eyes and finally gave in, offering his best compromise.
If Li Ang stayed through the winter window, Mourinho could promise him around fifteen appearances for the rest of the season.
When using the "Ironclad Trio" midfield, Li Ang would rotate with Diarra to partner Alonso.
In the more attack-focused formation, the deadweight AM would take one spot, Alonso the other, and then Li Ang, Khedira, and Diarra would compete for the final midfield role.
For a 19-year-old, this kind of offer at a club like Real Madrid was more than generous.
Most coaches wouldn't dare build a rotation around such a young holding midfielder.
Li Ang was grateful.
But he still refused Mourinho's offer.
He might be young, but nineteen wasn't a child anymore.
He had a system that required match victories to earn points, to draw talent cards, to buy items.
More importantly, this was the most critical age for developnt. He couldn't afford to spend two seasons waiting around for "the right mont."
Even if the club was Real Madrid—it wasn't enough.
"You really can't wait? Even if I try to pad his stats against weaker opponents this season, then sell him in the sumr to free up your spot?"
Mourinho was starting to get anxious.
He wasn't trying to push Li Ang out.
He liked the kid's mindset, skillset, and growth curve.
All he wanted was a year to settle the locker room, move out so unstable elents, and give Li Ang the space to grow into a full starter.
But right now, he just couldn't give that promise.
Li Ang, hearing Mourinho's sincerity, beca even more clear-headed.
"Boss, you said I'd get to choose my loan destination this winter, right? Within reason, of course."
Mourinho, seeing Li Ang's firm, unshakable resolve, sighed and nodded.
"Yes. I'll speak to the administrative team. As long as the club you choose isn't ridiculous and they genuinely want you, I'll support it."
That was all Li Ang needed to hear.
His heart lightened. The anxiety and frustration drained away.
He felt like he was stepping out of the whirlpool.
"I really like working with you, boss.
But what I need now is a guaranteed role and consistent playing ti.
Maybe next sumr, or the one after that—if I reach the level where you see as a priority, I'll co back.
But until then, I hope you'll give the opportunity to gain experience on loan.
I believe in myself. And I hope you'll believe in too."
He left those words behind and walked out of the office.
Mourinho watched him go, silently.
Li Ang's steps were firm.
He didn't look back.
—
Two days later, Li Ang sat calmly on the bench, watching Real Madrid take on Real Sociedad in their third La Liga match of the season.
Even though he wasn't starting, the deadweight AM didn't start either.
Instead, Gago partnered with Alonso in the double pivot, and Khedira retained the central midfield spot.
Mourinho had made his stance clear.
He wasn't letting public opinion dictate his lineup—not even after the dia frenzy and agent interference.
As internal punishnt, the attacking midfielder in question wasn't even nad in the 18-man squad.
The controversy that had raged for days seed to die down under Mourinho's iron hand.
At least, for now.
This was how things worked at elite clubs.
Sotis, the storms would last for weeks. Other tis, they'd vanish as quickly as they ca.
But amidst this storm, very few people knew the real truth:
Li Ang's ti in the Real Madrid first team was now ticking down.
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/johanssen10
User Comments
0 comments from readers