Chapter 26: The Heart of China

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This is enough to drive me mad!

At this moment, every Chinese football fan was watching Ma Mingyu’s shot. One-on-one—this was a clear one-on-one chance!

The old man had risen to his feet, veins bulging with tension, his face contorted. “Score! Score! Score now!”

The bespectacled scholar, usually calm and composed, had lost all his gentle mannerisms.

Coach Bora Milutinović couldn’t restrain himself and rushed to the sideline.

It was as if the world paused in that instant. All Chinese fans stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, uttering just one word: “Score!”

Ma Mingyu seemed nervous, his body trembling uncontrollably—excitement coursed through him.

Marcos’s face was dark as he weighed his options: would Ma Mingyu aim for the far corner, the near corner, or a low shot?

Everything would be revealed in the next second.

The ball traced a beautiful arc, its path toward the net, hoping to transform into a goal.

But a pair of hands seized it firmly, shattering countless Chinese hearts.

“Ma Mingyu, Ma Mingyu—he missed.”

Chen Nu’s tone was filled with disbelief, confusion, and even a sense of shattered dreams.

Ma Mingyu collapsed to his knees, sobbing aloud.

A man of such iron will—yet here he was, crying out loud.

He wasn’t alone; many Chinese fans wept at that moment. Mo Mo stood up, brushing dust from his clothes.

Number 14, Anderson Polga, barged in and muttered, “Sneaky brat! Huh? Don’t expect another chance!”

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Mo Mo ignored Anderson Polga’s provocation and walked up to Ma Mingyu, helping him to his feet.

“Captain, the match isn’t over yet! There’s still a chance.”

Ma Mingyu choked, “What kind of captain am I? Such a golden opportunity! Such a golden opportunity!”

The game continued, so Mo Mo gave Ma Mingyu another pull.

“Captain! If you stay like this, we really won’t have another chance!”

Ma Mingyu was stunned, then turned to look at his teammates still fighting on the pitch. With effort, he pulled himself together and ran back toward defense.

Mo Mo wiped his slightly damp eyes. Damn it! Such a good chance!

“The match is still ongoing on the pitch. Brazil has possession now,” Chen Nu’s voice sounded hollow. Was there still a chance? Was there?

“Intercept! Intercept! Intercept the ball! A midfield interception! Quick counterattack opportunity!”

Just as Chen Nu was lost in despair, the opportunity appeared! During Brazil’s midfield attack, the Chinese players pressed aggressively, finally forcing a turnover under the pressure of two players.

After winning the ball, they didn’t hesitate; instead, they passed quickly, knowing lingering on the ball would lead nowhere.

“Quick pass—keep it moving—two rapid passes! Now it’s at the edge of Brazil’s penalty area! Ma Mingyu gets the ball!”

China’s counterattack was swift! Ma Mingyu received the ball near the box, his eyes still red, surrounded by Brazilian players—danger everywhere!

“Ma Mingyu dribbles—good! Good! Entering the penalty area! Good! Passes! Mo Mo! Mo Mo! Mo Mo gets the ball!”

Chen Nu’s voice rose in excitement! Ma Mingyu dodged a defender, sweat soaking his jersey, but it couldn’t cool the fire burning in his heart for China. The Brazilian defenders reacted quickly—Ma Mingyu had to act fast. At that moment, he spotted Mo Mo!

Mo Mo’s position wasn’t ideal; Anderson Polga was closing in. Mo Mo wasn’t confident he could hold the ball under Anderson Polga’s pressure! Then, he saw Zha Junzhe far ahead to his left!

“Mo Mo sends a through ball! Mo Mo’s through ball—it’s a little off! But—Zha Junzhe! Shoots!”

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Chinese fans cried out again: “Score! We must score! For all of us—score!”

Zha Junzhe received the ball, and Number 3, Lucio, like a shark drawn by blood, rushed over. But Zha Junzhe was composed; he didn’t pass or shoot rashly.

He chose to dribble past. Lucio, thrown off by the rapid passes, lost his rhythm. Zha Junzhe changed direction, slipped past Lucio, and suddenly unleashed a powerful long-range shot toward the goal!

Coach Bora Milutinović was trembling all over—but the shot struck the post!

“The post! No! Mo Mo! Mo Mo! There’s still a chance! Mo Mo!”

When Mo Mo delivered the pass, it was toward his left front, and he ran toward his right. He predicted Zha Junzhe would shoot in that direction, and if anything went wrong, he’d have a chance for the follow-up.

Sure enough, Zha Junzhe launched a merciless shot, but it smashed into the post! Mo Mo felt uneasy the moment Zha Junzhe took his shot! Even though he’d told himself Ma Mingyu’s miss didn’t matter, deep down he doubted his teammates’ finishing skills. And now—his fears were justified.

But it didn’t matter! This was a chance! That was all Mo Mo thought. He sprang forward instantly, charging in just as the ball rebounded off the post—flying right toward him!

Header? No! Marcos had already turned to block every angle. What should he do? Mo Mo had an idea!

“Mo Mo heads the ball! Off target? No! Ma Mingyu! Ma Mingyu! Ma Mingyu—it’s Ma Mingyu!”

The ball soared high, almost breaking through the sky. And then—a flash of red appeared.

Not Hao Haidong, not Yang Chen, not Fan Zhiyi, and certainly not Mo Mo—it was Ma Mingyu!

“Ma Mingyu! Header! The ball goes in! 4:1! China scores!”

Everyone turned to see—China’s captain, Ma Mingyu, leaping high, with his head smashing the ball over the line and into the net! It was unquestionably a goal!

Mo Mo felt his heart pounding wildly—he was stunned. Did it go in? Did it really go in? Did history change? Was it offside? No—no offside! It went in!

Everyone—all Chinese people, not just football fans, even those who claimed indifference—couldn’t hide the joy on their faces! A goal! 4:1! Forget the four—we scored!

Yet the match continued. Was there more? Was there more? Mo Mo felt his whole body burning, especially the Chinese heart pounding in his chest.