Chapter Thirty: Mo Mo!
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PS: If you want a cameo, hurry and join the group! As you requested, I’m working hard to add a touch of humor, more slices of life, and to further flesh out the characters. Please forgive any shortcomings! And, while I’m at it, let me softly ask for your recommendations.
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The third group match of the 2002 World Cup saw Brazil face Costa Rica in Suwon, South Korea, while China squared off against Turkey in Seoul, the capital of South Korea. Both matches took place at 2:30 PM on Thursday, June 13, 2002.
The Brazilian team boarded their bus and departed early; rumor had it that even as they left, they were still looking for Mo Mo. Unfortunately, the language barrier led others to mistakenly assume that Mo Mo had some sort of close relationship with them!
But if people knew that, because of Mo Mo, what was supposed to be a pleasant gathering turned into a scene of bared teeth, goofy grins, photo ops, and gawking spectators, they might think differently.
So what was Mo Mo up to at that moment? He was sneaking around outside Yang Chen’s door, glancing furtively in all directions. Once he was sure no one was around, he gently knocked on the door. Soon, footsteps sounded from inside. If he were knocking on a girl’s door, perhaps he’d have felt a tinge of excitement, but this was a grown man’s room.
“Hmm, Mo Mo? So early? Here for an autograph?”
If Mo Mo could have seen his own expression, he’d have noticed how awkward he looked. Still, a promise is a promise.
“Ah! Yes, that’s right…”
Yang Chen laughed heartily, then turned to fetch a neatly folded red China jersey from the room, his name elegantly scrawled across it.
“Do you want me to give you a white one too?”
Mo Mo was momentarily stunned, then quickly shook his head.
“No, just this one is fine.”
Watching Mo Mo’s figure dash away, Yang Chen shook his head, pondering to himself: Do I still have that much influence back home? Maybe I should return to China from Germany and play there? Ah, never mind—let’s see how things go at St. Pauli first.
Meanwhile, Mo Mo checked his phone for messages and made his way to the agreed-upon spot, waiting for the girl to appear. He thought to himself, “Forget it, I’m already getting on in years (not yet seventeen), no need to stoop to a little girl’s level.”
Just as he was thinking this, he saw a flash of red in the distance. When the girl came closer, he realized she was wearing jersey number 13—MOMO. Wait, isn’t that my jersey? Instantly, Mo Mo’s imagination ran wild. In his mind, he pictured:
“This is my jersey?”
The girl turned and smiled, “Yes, it’s your jersey.”
The scene instantly reminded Mo Mo of a Yida chewing gum commercial. Of course, fantasies are beautiful, but reality is cruel.
“This is my jersey?”
The girl glanced down at her shirt and replied,
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“Oh! It’s yours? I just wear this one normally. I save Yang Chen’s for his matches so it doesn’t get dirty.”
Mo Mo’s face changed in a flash. Was this the fate of a washcloth versus a table rag? Wasn’t this a little harsh?
“Here! The jersey you wanted!”
The girl seemed to sense Mo Mo’s irritation and spoke up.
“Are you mad? I tend to be pretty straightforward, hope you don’t mind!”
Mo Mo really wanted to retort, “A girl like you—I wouldn’t have bothered to look at you before. No figure, no looks, no curves, and such a terrible temper!” But, seeing her at least somewhat apologetic attitude (was she really?), he decided to let it slide.
Of course, all this remained in his head. Outwardly, he wore a kindly smile, which, in the girl’s eyes, only made him look like he was playing at being a grown-up.
“No worries! By the way, I still don’t know your name.”
As soon as Mo Mo said this, he wanted to slap himself. What kind of conversation was this? Why was he still here chatting? He’d be heading to Seoul soon—why waste time?
“Oh! My name is Li Qing. Li as in ‘wood,’ Qing as in ‘green grass.’”
Mo Mo was momentarily stunned. He wondered whether this Li Qing would lose her mind when League of Legends came out one day. Holding back a laugh, he nodded and indicated it was time to head back.
“Alright, I’ll call you if I have a chance, okay?”
Call me? What’s this about? Mo Mo turned to reply, but Li Qing had already darted off. Sighing, he thought, “Girls, huh? Oh well, since the system didn’t assign me any family, I might as well have some fun.”
He pulled out his phone and added Li Qing’s name below Mino Raiola in his contacts. Hm, come to think of it, he hadn’t called Mino since getting this phone.
But on his way back to the hotel, Mo Mo’s phone suddenly rang.
“Hellooooooo—”
That drawn-out greeting sent shivers down Mo Mo’s spine! What on earth? He held the phone away from his ear and saw Li Qing’s name on the screen. But what was up with that voice?
“Ah! Is this Li Qing?”
Mo Mo sounded bewildered. Was this a split personality? How could her voice be so gentle over the phone? It reminded him of a girl he’d once liked in his previous life—sweet as honey on the phone, a terror in person.
“Yes—”
Almost at the hotel, with the national team waiting, Mo Mo hurriedly said,
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“I’ve got something to do, I’ll hang up now!”
At that moment, the tigress inside her roared forth.
“Don’t you dare!”
For a split second, Mo Mo wanted to chop off his own hand—he’d already hung up. And now he felt he’d gotten himself into real trouble, for the phone rang again. Just then, Hao Haidong walked over, glanced at Mo Mo, and said earnestly,
“Kid, don’t get into an early romance.”
He glanced at Mo Mo’s persistently ringing phone and sighed.
“Go on, answer it. And take it easy.”
Watching Hao Haidong’s retreating figure and the national team members gradually drifting away, Mo Mo was completely bewildered. But early romance? That was absolutely intolerable! Did he look like he was in love?
“Senior! I’m not in love! It’s not what you think!”
Hao Haidong glanced at Mo Mo’s ringing phone, then looked into the distance with a mischievous glint.
“Oh? Then what is it?”
Seeing the sly look on Hao Haidong’s face—and not far away, Yang Chen with that hesitant expression—Mo Mo mustered his courage and blurted out what he’d been thinking all along.
“Senior! Would you fall in love with a girl with no figure, no looks, no curves, and an explosive temper who starts swinging at the slightest provocation? This isn’t just about love anymore! We couldn’t even be friends!”
Hao Haidong looked at Mo Mo, then past him, then burst into hearty laughter. It seemed as if he was hinting at something, or perhaps he’d made some important decision. He asked quietly,
“Is all that really true?”
Mo Mo nodded vigorously in affirmation, and to drive his point home, he decisively hung up the phone again. At that moment, Hao Haidong seemed to have confirmed something, turned, and left briskly. Yang Chen and the others also scattered.
Just then, an angry shout rang out behind Mo Mo.
“Mo Mo!!!!!!!”
Mo Mo froze on the spot. Weren’t you a fan of Yang Chen? Why are you pestering me????