Chapter Thirty-Six: Applause

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PS6.1 will probably be launched soon, just in time for Children's Day. Watermark advertisement test. Watermark advertisement test... How many of you stop reading once the book is on the shelves? Raise your hand, haha! Enough joking... On the day of release, will I be able to gather a hundred subscriptions? Ahem, maybe I should lower my expectations—ten, perhaps? I'll finish this chapter and go have breakfast! There will be another chapter this afternoon, a minimum of 4,000 words.

Everyone was waiting, having completed all they could do. The gaze of number 10, Yerdelei Bastur, was cold; he knew that this shot would seal the victory.

Jiang Jin's heart raced; he understood what he was about to face. The ball flew from Yerdelei Bastur's foot, and Jiang Jin leapt.

"The ball is in."

Chen Nu's voice was filled with disappointment. Normally, a commentator would be thrilled by such a beautiful goal, but this match simply left him unable to feel joy.

Jiang Jin knelt half on the ground, covering his face and weeping. In just twelve minutes, China's best defensive team had conceded three goals!

Chinese fans felt as if they'd been struck a heavy blow, while Turkish supporters were jubilant. In contests between nations, there are always winners and losers.

On the sideline, the fourth official raised the substitution board. Number 13, Mo Mo, would replace Hao Haidong on the field. Mo Mo gazed at Hao Haidong's somewhat desolate figure and couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. The World Cup had been Hao Haidong's brightest moment, and it also provided sharp evidence for those who would criticize him in the future.

Mo Mo raised his hand high, then brought both hands together in applause. The coaching staff and substitutes rose to join in, and soon more and more Chinese fans were applauding as well. The applause grew louder, and Hao Haidong's back grew straighter; he had come to terms with it.

Moreover, Hao Haidong was not wrong. His desire to score was not wrong, nor was his longing for victory. As a striker, it was right for him to attack. The only error was that, at that time, their strength was not enough—not enough to go toe-to-toe with Turkey.

Hao Haidong walked to the sideline, looked at Mo Mo, and slapped his palm. Then, with a smile, he said,

"You rascal, I really don't want to see you, but I do hope you score a goal!"

Mo Mo looked at the traces of years etched on Hao Haidong's face and wanted to say, "I will," but in the end, he simply nodded quietly.

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"The substitution is complete; the new forward partnership will be Mo Mo and Yang Chen."

Chen Nu's voice was flat. Three goals conceded in twelve minutes! This wasn't just a dream start—could Mo Mo, who once scored two hat-tricks in the German second division, really repeat such a feat against Turkey?

But while Mo Mo felt a sense of control from the sidelines, once on the field, he realized it was hard to make an impact. Turkey's style was distinct; their transitions between attack and defense were swift, almost reminiscent of a less potent Brazil.

To put it this way: when playing Costa Rica and Brazil, Mo Mo had enough time to observe from the bench. It's like preparing for a fight, watching your opponent spar with others—you learn whether he prefers fists or kicks, and if he's injured somewhere, you can exploit that weakness.

Mo Mo's two goals against Costa Rica were a result of this—his speed forced mistakes, and defenders and goalkeeper were caught off guard. His long observation on the bench paid off.

He understood Costa Rica, especially the defenders' habits: some were aggressive, some conservative, some exhausted, some still fresh. It might be hard to execute, but Mo Mo had keenly identified these weaknesses.

Now, however, facing a Turkey that had scored three goals in quick succession, even though China had replaced Hao Haidong, the defensive line had taken a heavy blow. China's defense was disorganized and vulnerable under Turkey's relentless attack.

"Twenty-one minutes in, China's defense is finally stabilizing, showing the level expected of a midfield team! Hm? What's this? Mo Mo!"

While Chen Nu was still focused on China's defense, a long clearance shifted everyone's attention to Mo Mo.

It was a perfect opportunity. Mo Mo thought to himself, ignoring the noise around him, tilting his head, choosing not to stop the ball but to move sideways, letting the ball pass over him, and then taking it forward. In that instant, he felt a powerful force hit him and crashed to the ground.

A shrill whistle sounded. Turkey's number 21, Emre Polatoglu, received a yellow card. He'd already received one in the previous match; so even if Turkey advanced to the round of sixteen, Emre Polatoglu would miss the next stage.

"This was a foul just outside the penalty area—though perhaps a bit toward midfield—but definitely an attacking opportunity! Li Xiaopeng will take this free kick. Honestly, I've given up hope for scoring from free kicks."

Chen Nu's tone was somewhat resentful, which surprised viewers at home. Chen Nu! Did you just say you don't expect a goal from a free kick? That means this will definitely go in! Absolutely!

Leaving aside the fans' reactions, Li Xiaopeng looked around. So far, his free kicks hadn't amounted to much. Now, with this opportunity, he hoped to make the most of it; from this position, both a shot and a pass could be threatening.

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"Li Xiaopeng takes the free kick—what's this? A pass! Yang Pu! Yang Pu has the ball! Great chance!!! Mo Mo!!! Oh! The ball has been punched away by Rustu Recber!"

Chen Nu felt his heart couldn't take the excitement. Hurry, catch up! If they pull one back in the first half, there's hope in the second!

"The ball flies out of the box! Xu Yunlong! Xu Yunlong has the ball! Foul! Xu Yunlong is brought down near the penalty area! Another Chinese free kick! That's Emre's second yellow card! Wait—oh, it's number 2, Emre Asik. I mistook him... The previous one was a midfielder, now it's a defender. These Turkish names... Well, can China capitalize on this free kick? This spot is much better than before."

"Alright! China's opportunity! Li Xiaopeng again to take the free kick! Isn't there anyone better at free kicks?"

To be honest, Chen Nu had never been impressed by Li Xiaopeng's free kicks. Well, occasionally there were redeeming moments, but for Chen Nu, if it didn't result in a goal, it wasn't good enough.

"The free kick is taken! Two Chinese players are contesting in the box! Turkey is caught off guard! The goalkeeper comes out! Two against one—does he have a chance?"

In fact, Li Xiaopeng's free kick was of high quality: it found the two grouped Chinese players precisely. If either jumped, they could head the ball, making it a dangerous attack.

Mo Mo didn't get to the ball, but he witnessed everything. Mo Mo forgot how to speak, truly hoping the ball would go in.

Two red figures and a black figure dove toward the ball in the air.

Head coach Bora Milutinovic punched the air fiercely, and the entire stadium erupted in uproar.