As the season neared its end, the fixture list grew less congested.
Ancelotti gave the key players who had played the full UEFA Champions League semifinal an extra day off.
Li Luo went nowhere.
Nor did he meet up with any girls.
He saw Chinese fans saying this in the comments beneath an online news story:
-[The national team shirts don't have five stars embroidered on them yet. How could Li Luo possibly be interested in girls?]
-[What do five stars mean?]
-[Five-star Brazil, four-star Germany, four-star Italy...]
-[Five FIFA World Cup titles, five FIFA World Cup Trophies... the five-star Dragon Team.]
"..."
What was going on?
Did some Chinese fans really think he could lead the China National Football Team to the FIFA World Cup Trophy?
He thought it over.
Li Luo could understand it: never mind real football, plenty of people online watched football cartoons as though they were fantasy dramas. They believed that once the protagonist reached a certain power level, he was guaranteed to win the FIFA World Cup-and lift the FIFA World Cup Trophy every single tournament, at that.
A moment later.
A news notification popped up on his phone.
"BBC: WannaCry ransomware attacks NHS hospitals worldwide, forcing surgeries to be canceled!"
"The Football Association official statement: Networks at major training grounds temporarily disrupted; staff investigating WannaCry virus!"
A message also popped up in the first-team group chat.
[Lukaku: My game save is gone. I'd played all the way to 2054...]
Fortunately.
Li Luo wrote all his tactical notes in a little notebook.
Time was like a candle.
Before he knew it.
Premier League matchday had arrived.
The Theatre of Dreams blazed with light, its sea of red surging endlessly.
An old man wearing a faded Manchester United No. 7 shirt said to his