The White Nights of Saint Petersburg were coming to an end.
Federal Hospital.
In his hospital room, Li Luo was testing his ankle.
He turned it left.
Then right.
He flexed and extended it, then did it again.
Not a hint of discomfort.
He even stamped his foot hard twice... If Professor Miller had been there, he might have fainted on the spot.
[All potential injuries have been completely healed.] [Physical condition: 100%]
"Don't bring Professor Miller over. His views got too extreme when he talked to me about the history of Krestovsky Island. This is Saint Petersburg, after all."
Saint Petersburg Stadium stood on Krestovsky Island, so Professor Miller's chats with Li Luo over the past few days had drifted toward that match.
Then...
Toward the Siege of Leningrad.
Krestovsky Island had been one of its bloodiest battlefields.
From 1941 to 1944, nearly nine hundred days of fighting...
Tom nodded earnestly, watching Li Luo move his ankle with his heart in his throat. "Right! That German old man talks nonsense! And he keeps raising his arm! Li, are you really all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Lippi wants you to keep resting. He won't take the risk. He'll have the medical experts assess you again the day after tomorrow, then decide whether you can play in the final group match."
Outside the window.
The sky over Saint Petersburg was a shade between blue and violet.
Sunlight slanted in from the northwest, casting a long streak of light across the floor.
Leaning against the window, Li Luo used his phone to reply to messages from Manchester United's coaches and teammates. He turned down their offers to visit. He didn't want to disrupt their holidays; for professional footballers, rest mattered.
Malanda and Morata independently declared that China National Team could