The quarterfinal was held at Workers' Stadium in Beijing. As soon as he got off the high-speed train, Tang Ye said goodbye to his teammates and headed to the General Administration of Sport of China with Escribá.
"Ferran? You don't look very happy."
Tang Ye noticed Escribá's strange expression. The Spanish head coach had been staring out the window.
"Oh, do I?"
"Obviously. Are you nervous about the match against South Korea?"
Tang Ye shrugged, looking unconcerned. "If we have to be nervous about playing South Korea, that'd be completely unnecessary. Have some confidence, Ferran."
"Haha, I'm not as confident as you are."
Escribá reminded Tang Ye to stay humble.
Although the AFC Asian Cup opponents were nowhere near as formidable as those in the World Cup, any team that had reached the quarterfinals was bound to be strong.
"Other than Japan and Qatar, I don't think any of the others are much of a threat."
Tang Ye knew the national teams in Asia fairly well. In his view, Escribá had no reason to worry. "You're always so tense."
"Fine."
Escribá shook his head and glanced out the window again before turning back. "You want to separate the Football Association from China's league system? You know how difficult that is, right?"
Tang Ye glanced at the driver's seat. The driver immediately caught on and hurriedly put on his headphones.
"Are you not going to support me, sir?"
"No, no, it has nothing to do with whether I support you or not. I think it's the right thing to do too, but you need to understand that even England can't separate its league from its Football Association. Their management system is already extremely advanced."
Tang Ye nodded. "Right, I know. But our league is much weaker than the Chinese Super League.