As Mbappé found the net, the score had reached 0–2.
With the two sides in completely different camps, the French fans' celebrations sounded especially grating to the China national football team supporters.
"There's... no issue with Mbappé's goal, huh."
"Yeah, Mbappé's header itself wasn't actually that good. I think most of the credit has to go to Dembélé. That headed pass was simply brilliant."
"Dembélé's performance in this match has really been a little outrageous..."
Regardless of who had played the bigger part in the second goal, France had undeniably extended their lead.
"Woohoo!"
Mbappé crossed his arms over his chest, slipping all five fingers beneath his armpits. It was the French forward's favorite celebration.
"Knee slide! Knee slide!"
The French fans in the stands shouted at Mbappé, hoping their idol would pull off a three-stripe knee slide and rattle China's mentality.
"Oh, fuck!"
Mbappé spread his hands toward the stands, shaking them to show that he could not accept the suggestion. Then he embraced Konaté, who had run up from behind.
The match restarted. It was now the 40th minute of the first half. Escribá clenched his teeth tightly, veins bulging on his face.
Although Ferran always gave people the impression that he was flustered, the China national football team coach's state of mind was clearly off today.
It seemed like he was running out of ideas?
But there was nothing to be done about it. Judging from the situation on the pitch, China had been the side under pressure the entire time. Since they were being pinned back, they had to face the opponent's frequent shots.
"China really needs to think of something now..."
"Yeah, the team is trailing overall, and by two goals. So China's tactics in the second half cannot be centered on defense. Instead,