All of Chelsea's hard work throughout the season finally paid off in early April.
As the entire British sports dia turned its attention toward London, Chelsea held a private title celebration behind closed doors—well ahead of the official Premier League ceremony.
It wasn't about the players getting carried away.
The club's managent simply wanted to express gratitude to the coaching staff and players, and more importantly, use the occasion to lift morale ahead of their upcoming Champions League clash.
Naturally, there were speeches and a lavish celebration, but the night truly hit its peak when Roman Abramovich handed out generous bonuses.
Li Ang wasn't particularly concerned with the cash rewards.
At this point in his career, team and club bonuses accounted for less than 20% of his total inco.
But Abramovich's open admiration and gratitude genuinely ward him.
Back at Madrid, he had sensed that Florentino Pérez believed in him.
But Pérez's eternally unreadable smile made it hard to feel any true sense of closeness.
In many ways, Florentino was the more competent club president—shrewd, calculating, and excellent at leveraging player fa for global PR gains.
If you were good enough and had a big enough market, you didn't need to worry about dia, awards, or reputation.
Real Madrid's machine would push your profile to the top automatically.
But for Li Ang, having an owner like Abramovich was better.
When Abramovich liked a team or a player, he made no effort to hide it.
Sure, his preferences could be unfair to coaches or front office staff—but for players, he was a dream boss.
That night, everyone—senior staff, team leaders, coaching staff, and players—was in great spirits.
Li Ang, in a rare break from his usual discipline, even drank half a bottle of red wine.
Their next league match wasn't for another six days.
The Champions League tie with Bayern was ten days away.
With no imdiate fixtures on the calendar, the players could afford to enjoy themselves—and were even given two full days off afterward.
Once the night got going, nearly every teammate ca over to clink glasses with Li Ang.
He didn't drink much, but he didn't refuse anyone.
Only after the group drinking session wound down did he greet Mourinho and quietly slip into the hotel's lounge.
After opening the window to get so air, Li Ang pulled out his phone and began calling so of Chelsea's younger players who had been loaned out during the second half of the season.
"Harry, it's Li Ang. You saw it, right? We clinched the title today. Ha, everyone's thinking of you guys—boss too. Do well in the Championship, co back next season and help us defend the crown…"
"Mohamd, it's —did you catch the match? I know, you've already played in the Premier League for us this season. This title belongs to you too. Keep it up over in Sweden, bring back that trophy…"
"Hey, Nathan—been seeing your performances, not bad, huh…"
After a string of calls, Li Ang felt clear-headed again.
Thinking about those loaned-out teammates returning next year brought a smile to his face.
Back at his villa later that night, he was greeted by Anastasia, standing in the living room with a surprise smile. His heart lted instantly.
For the next two days, Li Ang stayed ho—completely disconnected from football.
No extra training, no dia. Just rest.
Monts like this, rare in the heart of a season, helped him understand what his Real Madrid teammates and Mourinho ant by "enjoy life more."
With his emotional tanks refilled, Li Ang returned to the training ground early once the break ended—fired up and focused.
The coaching staff didn't resu intense training imdiately.
Most starters underwent routine dicals and then either hit the therapy room or gym to decompress.
There were exceptions, of course.
Bertrand and Hazard, who had both gained a bit too much weight over the two days off, were whisked off by fitness coach Ruiz for extra conditioning.
No big deal—losing weight in training was easy for pros.
anwhile, Chelsea's rotation players began prepping for the upcoming league match against Sunderland.
But the core starters?
Their minds were already locked in on Bayern Munich.
Tactical drills ramped up.
Tactical etings beca the new normal.
As for Bayern—no team was more familiar to Mourinho and Li Ang.
Two seasons ago, Mourinho's Real Madrid had crushed Bayern's dreams of Champions League glory.
That dominant version of Bayern, which ruled the Bundesliga and looked poised to conquer Europe, had been forged in the fires of their battles against Mourinho's Madrid.
Without Madrid, Bayern would likely have claid at least one European title already.
In Li Ang's mory, this was supposed to be the season Pep Guardiola took over from Jupp Heynckes.
But thanks to the butterfly effect he himself caused, Heynckes stayed.
Guardiola went to City instead.
And "Super Bayern" didn't self-destruct under experintal tactics—they survived, evolved, and now stood as Europe's most terrifying revenge machine.
Li Ang, having played them before, knew better than most how dangerous they were.
If he were still at Madrid, he wouldn't bet on beating them this year either.
On paper, Madrid—with Li Ang—might still be the strongest team in Europe.
But the fire, the hunger? That's what worried him.
Did Real still burn with the sa desire for greatness?
Most of their squad had just won the sextuple, defended their league and Champions League titles—would they still be desperate to prove themselves?
Probably not.
Bayern, on the other hand, were starving.
Just like Madrid in 2011–12, they were in beast mode—ready to fight, ready to bleed, ready to win.
That Madrid team had been terrifying.
This Real Madrid? Li Ang feared they had beco too comfortable.
Too refined. Too fat and happy.
He believed that only a major setback would wake them up again.
Which ant, in his eyes, Bayern had already taken the high ground.
Mourinho knew it too.
He hamred Bayern's strength and complexity into his players every single eting.
Gone was the blind belief.
Chelsea now respected their opponent—and knew they had to find the right cracks to exploit.
April 19th arrived.
In Matchday 35, Chelsea hosted Sunderland—and the visitors lined up for a guard of honor to celebrate Chelsea's title.
But the Black Cats, desperate to survive relegation, showed no kindness during the match.
With heavy rotation in the lineup, Chelsea actually fell behind early in the match.
It wasn't until Oscar took control and smacked a long-range shot off the post that the Blues began to find their rhythm.
Veterans like Essien and Mikel were far past their pris.
But against a bottom-tier side, they still managed to stabilize midfield once Sunderland's early storm passed.
Oscar and Lukaku handled the attack.
Essien and Mikel controlled the middle.
Sunderland, though, got lucky up front.
Chelsea took the lead twice, only for Sunderland to equalize both tis—both from set pieces.
In the end, Chelsea settled for a 2–2 draw at ho.
No big deal. The title was already theirs.
They preserved their undefeated ho record, and that was enough for the day.
Fans stayed in good spirits—Stamford Bridge even had a full-on xican wave going at one point.
Li Ang, Ibrahimović, and Hazard all ca on in the 70th minute—just to shake off rust before the Bayern tie.
With this round of league matches wrapped up, football fans across Europe—and even the world—shifted their gaze.
The Champions League was back.
On April 22nd, Atlético hosted Real Madrid at the Calderón for the first leg of the semifinals.
After 90 minutes of war, Atlético stunned Real 2–1.
The win lit a fire under Atlético's squad.
Real didn't hit their target—but they did co away with a valuable away goal.
The second leg would be the real decider.
Judging by their knockout performances, either Madrid club reaching the final would be deserved.
And after the Madrid derby finished, all eyes turned to London.
On the morning of April 23rd, in a pre-match interview with Sky Sports, Thomas Müller grinned and joked: "We ca to settle a score with Li Ang."
And at last, Li Ang began to realize the downside of all his success these past few years.
Because when he looked around the Champions League bracket, he realized—
just about every European powerhouse left was lining up for revenge.
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