Holy Fuck

"Coach Du, I want to know why you didn't let me play in yesterday's match." Chen Anno stood in the office, a stubborn look in his eyes as he stared at the potbellied man before him.

"Ah... it's Xiao Nuo." Du Ziteng looked up, wearing a practiced smile. "Look at you, always in such a hurry. You're young—why not learn to be a little more patient?"

"Coach Du!" Chen Anno raised his voice. He didn't want to listen to this guy's bullshit anymore. He'd been with the U17 National Team for almost two months, and he'd heard enough of this.

He stared into Du Ziteng's eyes and said, each word deliberate, "I just want to know why you wouldn't let me play against Myanmar yesterday, when we were already having such a hard time."

Seeing Chen Anno's eyes reddening, Du Ziteng's expression immediately darkened. "Chen Anno, it's the head coach who decides which players take the field. What does that have to do with me?"

"Du, cut the crap! I already went to see the head coach!" Chen Anno had truly had enough.

Du Ziteng slammed the documents on his desk and glared at the boy, but the stubborn Chen Anno didn't back down. He continued staring at Du Ziteng without blinking.

"Tsk..." Du Ziteng curled his lip scornfully. "Chen Anno, I suggest you watch your tone when you talk to me. Don't think that just because I'm only the U17 team manager, you can shout at me like this..."

Du Ziteng braced his left hand on the desk and leaned forward slightly, his face brimming with arrogance. He raised one finger with his right hand.

"One word! That's all it would take! I could make sure you never work in football again—not even return to your current club. Do you... believe me?"

The stubborn look on the boy's face faltered. His pupils contracted, and a trace of retreat flashed in his eyes, but he quickly raised his head again.

"Coach Du, you already took my money! You can't go back on your word!"

"Money?" Du Ziteng still looked scornful. "Aren't you already a National Youth Team player? If your second uncle hadn't begged me, do you think a hundred thousand yuan would've been enough to get you in here? Don't be so damn naive!"

Du Ziteng sat back down and leaned into his chair, looking at Chen Anno's reddening eyes. "Still want to play?"

"Heh... don't think I don't know. You wanted to join the National Youth Team so you could make a name for yourself at next year's AFC U-16 Championship, then use the media to pressure your club and get a chance to join the first team and play in the Chinese Super League.

"I suggest you give up. If I let you play, how am I supposed to explain it to all the other players who paid three hundred or five hundred thousand?"

"Huff... huff..."

The boy's chest heaved. Having grown up in Brazil, he couldn't understand why it was so hard when all he wanted was to play football on his own merits.

It had been like this at his club, and now it was the same with the National Youth Team—if anything, it was even worse.

"Xiao Nuo..." Du Ziteng's voice sounded again.

"If you ask me... you're still too hung up on your old idol image. Still thinking you and Neymar were the Twin Stars of Sao Paulo State?" Du Ziteng shook his head.

"Look at Neymar. He transferred to Barcelona for 88 million euros in the winter transfer window this year. And you? You were one of the Twin Stars, but you can't even get into the Chinese Super League. (Note: Neymar went to Barcelona in the summer of 2013. He's been moved up here to fit the story.)

"Xiao Nuo... you grew up in Brazil, so you don't understand how things work here. I'll let what happened today slide.

"Here, whether it's a national team or a club, seniority comes first. You're only seventeen, and all those U23 veterans are still waiting in line. What's the rush?

"Don't take this the wrong way, but wouldn't it be better to work your way up, one step at a time? If you know how to behave, you'll get to play as a starter one day. Right?" Du Ziteng put special emphasis on the words "know how to behave."

Knock, knock, knock...

At that moment, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in..." Du Ziteng called, then waved Chen Anno toward the door, telling him to leave first.

Chen Anno took a deep breath. He knew there'd be no point in continuing to argue, so he turned and left.

As he stepped out, he brushed past the newcomer. It was Ma Ping, Du Ziteng's top lackey.

Click...

After Chen Anno had left, Ma Ping shut the door behind him. As he turned around, his face immediately took on a fawning, obsequious expression.

"Heh heh... Coach Du, you're so busy, yet you still find time to guide the young players. The National Youth Team is truly lucky to have you. No wonder that kid likes to stay behind and train alone. He must have learned it all from you..."

Du Ziteng rolled his eyes, picked up a pack of Nanjing 95 cigarettes from the desk, and tossed one to Ma Ping. "If you've got something to say, say it. If you've got to take a dump, go do it. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes..." Ma Ping caught the cigarette in both hands and hurried forward, pulling a lighter from his pocket to light one for his boss.

Du Ziteng was pleased with Ma Ping's behavior. He waved a hand, signaling him to speak.

"It's like this, boss. Guangzhou Team says they want to send someone in. What do you think...?" Ma Ping asked cautiously.

Du Ziteng immediately frowned. "Didn't you tell them the roster was full?"

"I did, boss, but... but they insisted I ask you anyway..." At this, Ma Ping lowered his head and leaned close to Du Ziteng's ear. "They said... they can pay eight hundred thousand."

Hearing this, Du Ziteng raised his eyebrows. "They're pretty generous..."

"So... boss, should we take someone off the roster?"

"Hey..." Du Ziteng immediately raised a hand to cut Ma Ping off. "You know the current players have all paid their entry fees. We have to follow the rules when we do business, don't we?"

Ma Ping froze at that, puzzled. Is this gluttonous bastard suddenly talking about keeping his word?

But before he could say anything, Du Ziteng spoke again.

"Still, football is a high-contact sport. If someone suddenly gets injured during training and has to leave, that's perfectly normal, isn't it?"

As he said this, Du Ziteng glanced at Ma Ping. "Xiao Ma, what do you think?"

Ma Ping's eyes lit up. Damn, that's ruthless. No wonder he's the boss.

"Exactly, exactly... You're absolutely right, boss! So... who should get injured?"

Du Ziteng immediately shot him a sideways glare. "What kind of thing is that to say? How would I know who's going to get injured? I'm not a fortune-teller!"

Thump!

"Smack..." Ma Ping realized at once that he'd said the wrong thing. He hurriedly slapped himself across the face. "You're right, boss. How could anyone predict an accident like that...? Well then, boss, I'll get to work."

Du Ziteng waved him away in annoyance. Just as Ma Ping turned around, he spoke again, unhurriedly.

"Ahem... I think Chen Anno might not be in the best health. He's been with the team for so long and hasn't played a single match. When you have time, ask the head coach about it for me. No matter how busy we are, we still need to care about the players' health, right, Xiao Ma?"

Ma Ping had been wondering who to get injured, but now he understood. He turned around and bowed his head. "I understand, boss. I'll go find the head coach right away..."

Suddenly, a loud bang rang out as someone violently kicked open the office door.

"Du Ziteng! You motherfucker!"

A furious roar followed. A figure charged inside, first kicking the stunned Ma Ping flying, then lunging at Du Ziteng behind the desk.

"Chen Anno!! You dare! Ow... Chen Anno, you're finished... Ow... I'm not done with you, you little bastard! You'll never work in football again... Ow..."

Less than a minute later, two swollen, bruised faces sat in the office. While a crowd of onlookers watched in astonishment, Chen Anno reached beneath the desk, pried loose an old-fashioned mobile phone, stuffed it into his pocket, and strode away.

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