Another MVP trophy in hand, Tang Ye walked toward Escribá holding it one-handed. "Ferran!"
"Shit, haha!"
With his arms spread wide, Escribá suddenly pulled Tang Ye into a hug and vigorously patted the China national football team captain on the back. "That's it! Haha, whew... fuck!"
Ferran stuttered a little. Only after Tang Ye pulled away from his coach's embrace did he realize that the Spanish manager had started crying at some point, tears filling his eyes so completely they reflected the stadium lights.
"Oh, come on!"
Tang Ye spread his hands. "Don't be like this, Ferran."
"Easy! So easy!"
Tang Ye shouted into Escribá's ear, "This is exactly how we planned it! We're going to the knockout stage as group winners!"
"No, this wasn't how we planned it!"
Escribá roared back, startling Tang Ye into taking a step backward. "Haha, okay, okay, you're right! Ferran, you're right. I won't argue with you. We've qualified anyway. That's the result!"
Amid the cheers, Tang Ye and Escribá headed toward the stands together.
They had originally planned to share their joy with the fans in the stands, but several teammates stopped them halfway there.
Without a word, Zhang Yuning dropped to his knees in front of Tang Ye, drawing a wave of screams from the stands.
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
Tang Ye stepped back and was about to help Zhang Yuning up when Wei Shihao and Wang Dalei came over and immediately restrained him.
"Holy shit, what are you doing?"
While Tang Ye stood there completely bewildered, Wang Shenchao and Zhang Xizhe lifted the China national football team captain's right leg together and placed his foot on Zhang Yuning's thigh as he knelt there.
Pretending to hold a towel, Zhang Yuning began polishing Tang Ye's shoe.
"Fuck, don't do this!"
Tang