Genoa's Number One Devotion

"Roberto, let's go for a ride!"

Dejan Lu knocked on Roberto Mancini's door, and Federica opened it, warmly inviting him in.

Mancini had a hobby of collecting motorcycles.

After seeing Dejan Lu's driving skills, he was impressed by everything about him except his mouth.

"Is Monica not home?"

Federica asked, handing him a coffee.

As a Neapolitan, she had very high standards for coffee, prioritizing authenticity.

A cup the size of a small wine glass held water for rinsing.

Then, using a spoon to stir it up and down, wetting the sides of the cup to warm it, before quickly drinking it.

This was the Neapolitan way of doing things.

After putting down his cup, Dejan Lu said, "I made her breakfast, she's still sleeping. Women sleeping a lot is the secret to staying beautiful."

"You're so thoughtful."

Federica complimented him.

Not many men in Italy cooked for their wives.

Mancini emerged from the bedroom with messy hair, nodded at Dejan Lu, and went straight into the bathroom.

"Roberto likes you a lot, he's just not very good at expressing it,"

Federica explained, fearing Dejan Lu might be upset.

After Mancini and Dejan Lu went for a motorcycle ride last time, he had excitedly talked for half the night when he got home.

She had rarely seen him like that.

So she was very happy that Mancini and Dejan Lu could be teammates.

Even the temperamental Mancini needed more friends.

"Do you want to take some food with you when you go out? I should have prepared picnic supplies if I had known," Federica said, getting up.

Traditional Italian women were the epitome of housewives.

"No need, we can grab lunch outside."

Dejan Lu said with a smile, "I heard Vialli is back from vacation, I'd really like to meet him too."

"Yes, Gianluca's personality is much better than Roberto's," Federica said in a low voice, "Mancio means, you understand, right? Gentleman Mancio, that nickname..."

Dejan Lu smiled and nodded.

Sarcasm, Chinese people were good at that.

That nickname might have been used by some to mock Mancini.

It was just that it became popular later, and those who didn't know would think it was a compliment to his demeanor.

Mancini, having just washed his hair, came out of the bathroom with a towel, constantly drying his hair, complaining, "It's really impolite of you to show up at someone's house so early in the morning."

"I thought we were good friends. You don't need to pick a time to visit a good friend."

Dejan Lu winked.

"Exactly, that's right!" Federica nodded vigorously.

Mancini could only shut up.

He was a rather introverted person.

He liked soft music, had his own standards for movies and books, and enjoyed collecting things.

In just a few days, Dejan Lu had gotten to know Mancini inside and out.

Overall, this guy had his own pursuit of quality of life, liked a stylish life, and occasionally enjoyed excitement and passion, but he didn't have friends like that around him.

Mancini didn't seem to care much about others, but in reality, he cared a lot about what others thought.

There was nothing wrong with that.

When the two of them went downstairs together, they saw some paparazzi.

"They're all here to photograph you, they want to portray you as the public enemy of Italian men," Mancini said.

In the past few days, he had seen a lot of discussions on TV about Dejan Lu and Monica Bellucci.

"It doesn't matter, I already stole Italy's pearl."

Dejan Lu smiled, mounted his motorcycle, and sped off with a kick of the accelerator.

Cough, cough, cough...

Mancini waved, watching Dejan Lu's retreating back, cursed him, and at the same time envied his carefree attitude.

The two of them were going to Mancini's suburban house first to pick up his collection of motorcycles, and then go to see Vialli.

Don't let Mancini's age of 25 fool you; having become famous at 17, he had already accumulated quite a bit of savings.

Mancini pointed at the car outside and said, "My collection garage is already full, sports cars and motorcycles, are you envious? I can give you one."

"Forget it, you won't be able to catch up with me even if I ride a cheap car," Dejan Lu said.

Mancini: ...

Even though he knew it was the truth, it was still incredibly irritating.

Mancini opened the garage, and Dejan Lu, who hadn't paid much attention initially, actually saw something good.

The R75!

That was the backbone of the German blitzkrieg into Poland!

"I'll ride this, you ride mine!"

Dejan Lu found the key to the R75 on the wall and was about to get on.

Mancini bent down and picked up the oil can, preparing to refuel the vehicle.

Finally, he could surprise Dejan Lu with his collection.

This vehicle was a product of World War II, and it even came with a sidecar when purchased. The most impressive thing was that it wouldn't be damaged even if fueled with some inferior gasoline.

The previous seller had protected it very carefully. He waited for over two years before finally acquiring it when the seller needed money for cash flow.

Dejan Lu put on the rather retro goggles and waved, shouting, "Let's go, to Poland!"

"If reporters take pictures of this, you'll be in big trouble," Mancini couldn't help but shrink his neck and remind him.

"Then shall we go to Israel?" Dejan Lu asked.

Mancini quickly got into his RS500, afraid Dejan Lu would say something more frightening.

In those days, the media was controlled by Jews, and the internet was not well-developed. Even though they knew the character of those people from the older generation, they didn't have much ill will towards them.

After all, all media and film productions were whitewashing them, issuing indulgences to the whole world, as if the Earth owed them a promised land.

As soon as the two of them hit the road, Mancini began to envy Dejan Lu again.

The gap in their driving skills was too vast.

Even though Dejan Lu had switched to an old relic with a maximum speed of only 80 kilometers per hour and was riding with a sidecar, he could still easily tease Mancini on the road.

In the 80s and 90s, motorcycles were the greatest romance.

The high prices also kept this mode of transportation away from street thugs, and it wasn't yet exclusive to flashy youngsters.

Especially at this time when there weren't as many cars, the driving experience was quite good.

When the two arrived at Vialli's house, they saw Vialli with a travel bag, preparing to enter the house.

Mancini got off his bike, grabbed Vialli without a word, and shoved him into Dejan Lu's sidecar.

"Hey, Nero, you've been quite the talk of the town lately," Vialli said, teasing Dejan Lu after a brief moment of surprise.

His personality was very cheerful. His parents, a sculptor and a jewelry designer, had given him good upbringing and knowledge.

Nero, due to his brutal and extravagant lifestyle, was considered a public enemy by the Romans.

Dejan Lu shrugged his shoulders and said, "Four hostile newspapers are more terrifying than a thousand bayonets, but I'm not Napoleon, so they can't harm me."

"Your mindset is excellent, I like it!" Vialli took out a cigarette, preparing to light one.

Dejan Lu directly extended his right hand and offered a paper cup of Coke, saying, "This is healthier in comparison."

Vialli touched his hair and looked at Mancini, exclaiming, "No wonder you became friends with him."

He only became bald after transferring to Juventus. His teammate Fortunato had leukemia, and he shaved his head to encourage his teammate.

"He's right, Coke is better than tobacco," Mancini agreed.

He had always really liked Coca-Cola.

At this moment, Dejan Lu revved the engine, and the Coke splashed all over Vialli's face.

But he didn't care at all, shouting loudly and spreading his arms wide.

It wasn't strange that someone with such a personality could become friends with Mancini; even gloomy people couldn't help but reach for the sunshine.

Looking at the World War II motorcycle in front of him, Mancini couldn't help but show a knowing smile.

"That's so cool, you have to teach me how to ride sometime!" Vialli said, grabbing Dejan Lu as he was sent back home that evening.

They were all young and loved to have fun, so they quickly became familiar with each other.

"Okay, it's a small matter."

Dejan Lu agreed readily.

Mancini and Vialli chatted for another twenty minutes before leaving together.

It was so true, if it wasn't for their lower halves, men would rather hang out with other men.

"Gianluca really likes you. You're good at making friends," Mancini said as he walked alongside Dejan Lu.

"I had many friends when I was in Reggio Calabria," Dejan Lu said with a smile. "They don't know I'm leaving yet, or my neighbors would be sad."

"Female neighbors?"

"A housewife in her 40s," Dejan Lu replied.

"Women like pretty boys, and you don't have much facial hair," Mancini teased. "Someone like me is more devoted."

Dejan Lu couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Compared to Mancini's full beard, he really didn't have that much body hair.

But this guy had the nerve to talk about devotion?

He looked good now only because he had just gotten married. This guy had a string of rumored affairs when he was a coach, and he ended up divorced.

Time would tell.

Mancini, the most devoted man in Genoa, was clearly no match for Korea's Number One Devotion.

When they returned to the apartment building, paparazzi were still waiting nearby.

Dejan Lu waved his hand. "You go up first, I'll talk to the reporters."

"Do you need me to chase them away for you?"

Mancini asked.

He was already tired of the paparazzi these past few days.

"It's fine, you go up first,"

Dejan Lu said and walked directly towards the paparazzi's car.

"Are you very familiar with Mancio? Did you transfer to Sampdoria?" a paparazzo asked directly as he looked at Dejan Lu.

"Sorry, I don't want to talk about that."

Dejan Lu took out a few banknotes and handed them over.

The paparazzo looked at him with some surprise.

"You guys wrote recently that I cheated Monica Bellucci, right? The story lacks some interest. You should emphasize Monica's beauty and innocence, and portray me as a cunning villain with deep thoughts. That way, readers will resonate more."

Dejan Lu said.

Gulp...

The paparazzo swallowed hard, completely stunned.

He had never seen this kind of situation before.

"Give me your contact information. I'll give you some drafts, and you can help me publish them. Also, help Monica take some beautiful photos, the kind that look like candid shots, you know?" Dejan Lu said.

The paparazzo nodded vigorously.

There was no harm to him in what Dejan Lu was saying.

This summer, the Chinese boy was all the rage. It would be great to get exclusive news.

After leaving his contact information, Dejan Lu turned and left.

He had been wondering how to make money, and now the opportunity had arrived!

Kurosawa Shizuka didn't have much acting skill, and a synthetic human could become the number one beauty. Couldn't Monica, a genuine natural beauty, be hyped up?

If you Italian men were unhappy that the Flower of the Apennines was snatched away, shouldn't you support Monica launching a menswear brand?

She would be economically independent, and in the future, if anything happened, she wouldn't have to worry about these things, right?

Monica was working for the benefit of her family.

Not supporting Monica meant you weren't Italian.

Wearing ZARA is still wearing clothes. Wouldn't it be better to support the Apennines' number one beauty in her entrepreneurial venture?

Dejan Lu was preparing to let the Apennines understand what the strongest influencer marketing strategy was, decades in advance.

In the end, they would realize that the wealthier Monica became, the better his own quality of life would be.