You Will Regret This

When Dejan Lu saw the news about himself, he felt awful.

Who taught you to hype things up like this?

When it came to celebrities trending, he clearly remembered some actress making a big deal out of having feet too small to buy shoes. For one or two straight years, related news would pop up whenever he opened a browser. It was nauseating.

She made that much money every year—would ordering two pairs of shoes kill her?

Eventually, whenever netizens saw a celebrity's family affairs trending, they would sarcastically ask whether the United Nations had been notified about such a major event.

Though entertainment was scarce these days, Dejan Lu did not want to overexpose himself and risk a backlash later.

Sigh.

If he had known, he would have handled Old Bianchi's publicity himself.

Now he had to submit articles to push his teammates onto the trending lists and draw away some of the heat.

Originally, he had wanted to make the fairly handsome old man Bagnato the star of some Hollywood scandal. But since Bianchi had mentioned Dino, he might as well make Bagnato the subject of rumors surrounding one of Dino's films.

After all, Dino did not have particularly high standards for male leads. He was better at filming women, displaying every kind of beauty. Compared with Quentin, who liked filming feet, Dino preferred the curves of the buttocks.

His films contained plenty of discussion about human nature without becoming overly profound, which was why they were so popular.

If viewers could not understand the refusal involved, much of the fun would be lost. Treating them purely as erotic films was somewhat wasteful.

Dejan Lu lay sprawled across the desk, writing furiously. "There was no denying that postwar erotic cinema was an eternal classic. Both Miranda and Jenny's Desire had emerged from such a backdrop.

But Tinto Brass had reached a bottleneck. He needed a greater breakthrough, and Reggina was precisely that opening... Dreams and reality, desire and hard work—whether hard work could bring success was a question many people loved to explore.

Recently, this Bing Er team, Reggina, had become famous because of its football-loving owner and its Chinese player. But in truth, Reggina's Giuseppe Bagnato was the one worth exploring.

Born in 1960, he was utterly ordinary, yet he had always worked hard to do his job well. A film based on him would be brilliant: struggle without reward, athletic talent being inborn and impossible to make up for through effort. In his dreams, he lived in a mansion, moved among sexy women, became an honored guest of The Royal Family, and flirted with the young wives of top tycoons... Then he woke to discover that he had merely collapsed exhausted onto the pitch after training, still wearing battered old boots.

In the end, he smiled and walked home for a cheap dinner. That would be a classic film. Failure was the main theme of life. Rather than learning how to succeed, we should learn how to calmly accept our ordinary selves."

After writing two more inspirational pieces about teammates turning over a new leaf and Old Bianchi rising from childhood poverty through hard work, Dejan Lu checked that there were no spelling mistakes before rubbing his right wrist.

Writing with his non-dominant hand was no challenge for him. The main point was to conceal his handwriting.

There was no need to leave his name behind for something as good as praising his teammates.

Outside, true and false news about Reggina was flying everywhere.

Reggina's results remained steady. After their comeback against Calabria, they had seized first place with force and never surrendered it.

Dejan Lu continued to perform exceptionally well.

Scouts from Italian clubs often appeared at Reggina's Granillo Stadium.

Most of them, however, were still from second-tier teams.

Even Dejan Lu himself felt that it would take time for his potential to be fully realized, so he did not pay much attention to the matter.

At the start of this season, it was the ninth year since Italy had restored foreign players, and the rule had just been changed to allow three foreigners.

That meant a team could have at most three foreign players, regardless of whether they played.

When Dejan Lu had come to Italy, he had applied for long-term residence through family reunification and had never changed his nationality. It was perfectly normal that Serie A clubs were not optimistic about him.

This was not like later times, when clubs could simply buy young prospects and loan them out.

That was the biggest problem at present.

Serie A clubs did not even have the chance to imitate the later Chelsea and become a taxi company, because there were only so many talented youngsters from domestic academies. Often, everyone fancied the same prospects, or the parent club did not want to sell cheaply and wanted a share in the player's future. That was why half-ownership arrangements existed.

Milanello.

Rivera's appearance still drew plenty of attention.

This legendary player had created the Rossoneri's second dynasty during his career, then served as Milan's vice president for many years after retiring. He held tremendous influence within the club.

The moment Galliani received word, he jogged out, spread his arms with exaggerated enthusiasm, and shouted, "Look who's here! Gianni, it's so good to see you."

"Give it a rest. If I got into a car accident, you'd probably open a bottle of wine after my funeral."

Rivera replied irritably.

After Berlusconi bought Milan, the two men had clashed more than once.

Even after being called out directly, Galliani showed no embarrassment. Still smiling warmly, he walked over to Rivera and led him toward the office.

As they walked, he introduced the team's recent changes.

Berlusconi had bought Milan largely for political reasons, but the money he invested in the team was very real.

Rivera did not argue.

After all, Milanello's training facilities had visibly improved.

Once they entered the office, Galliani told his secretary to make coffee, handed Rivera a cigar, and asked, "You wouldn't come here for no reason. Is there good news today?"

He knew Rivera's personality well.

If he had run into trouble, he would never come to Milanello asking for help.

This legendary player was far too proud.

Rivera directly switched on the television in Galliani's office. A Bing Er match was playing.

It was Canale 5, Berlusconi's television station. Recently, the third-tier side Reggina had become a hot topic. Old Berlusconi's station, much like the man himself, was excellent at chasing trends, so it had deliberately broadcast Bing Er matches live.

As Berlusconi's chief steward, Adriano Galliani knew this very well.

Pointing at the television, he said, "Reggina seems to have plenty of stories. That Bianchi has been making big moves lately."

"Do you see that young man?"

Rivera asked, pointing at Dejan Lu on the screen.

"You rate him highly?"

Galliani asked with narrowed eyes.

Rivera's meaning was already obvious.

"Yes. I believe that in three to five years, he will be the best midfielder in Italian football and the guarantee of Milan's next dynasty. Technically, perhaps he will not be the best, but his ability to read the game is absolutely unparalleled!"

Rivera said excitedly.

Over the past period, he had watched several of Dejan Lu's matches. That young man was simply too clever.

Many times, he could not understand what the player was doing on the pitch, but once he saw the result that followed, realization would suddenly dawn on him.

Rivera even suspected that if the young man played chess, he would definitely become world champion.

Berlusconi nodded, noncommittal.

He even found it a little funny.

How had he ever ended up fighting for power with someone like this?

In his eyes, Rivera was too immature and too naive.

Crushing Rivera no longer brought him much pleasure.

This kind of opponent was far too weak.

Galliani said directly, "Gianni, we are AC Milan. We cannot use one of our limited foreign-player slots to sign a foreign youngster who might become a star."

"I've seen his file. He has lived in Italy for many years."

Rivera said directly.

"Gianni, Gianni, Gianni... Poor Gianni, you simply don't understand football." Galliani shook his head. "My meaning is very clear. Milan only signs established stars."

You have talent?

I'll just buy World Cup winners and European Championship winners. Once your talent has been fulfilled, I can always buy you then.

That was how overbearing Italian clubs were now. Even when scouting young players, they focused mainly on talented domestic youngsters. For foreign players, they only bought big names.

No matter how talented you were, could your immediate ability compare with a Yugoslavia international or the Golden Bomber? No matter how incredible you might be in the future, could you be better than the Dutch Trio right now?

"He is worth it!"

Rivera shouted. "That young man's success is inevitable!"

"All right. I hope he can cause us a little trouble in the future."

Galliani shrugged.

He had to take back what he had just thought.

Watching Rivera lose his temper was actually rather amusing.

"Adriano, you will regret this!"

Rivera slammed the desk and strode away.

Galliani drained his coffee in one gulp. Watching the other man's departing back, he chuckled softly. "Gianni, I am Milan's vice president!"