Everyone at Auxerre was delighted. Two straight big wins by margins of three goals or more-it had been a long time since they had enjoyed consecutive victories like these.
Before Zhang Kuang arrived, the last time they had scored three goals in a match was in round ten, but they had only beaten Lille 3-2 that day. Since then, although Auxerre had recorded a 2-0 win over league leaders Marseille, they had never scored more than three goals in a single match.
Since Zhang Kuang arrived, they had scored more than three goals in two consecutive matches, showing that the attack he led had become far more potent.
If they kept playing at this pace, never mind qualifying for Europe-even the championship was a real possibility. How could they not be happy?
"Hey, Zhang!" Jelen ran over from the pitch and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Tonight's on me. Thanks for creating all that space for me."
"Oh, come on. You were the one who took your chances." Zhang Kuang patted him on the back.
"I don't care. I'm paying." Jelen grinned happily. "When you first arrived, I was worried you'd take my place. Now I think-good thing you did. Having you take it actually made things easier for me."
Zhang Kuang laughed. "Then let's wait until we're back in Auxerre. I'm meeting an old friend from back home tonight. We've already arranged it."
"Huh? Oh, okay. I'll treat you when we get back to Auxerre, then."
"Sure."
In the dressing room, their teammates were having a modest celebration.
Grichting stood shirtless, filming with his phone. The camera swept across everyone's faces before finally settling on Zhang Kuang.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is our goal machine-Zhang Kuang!" Grichting declared theatrically. "Five goals in two matches! Have you ever seen a debut like that? I certainly haven't!"
Laughter and whistles filled the dressing room.
Meanwhile, Zhang Kuang opened a message from an unfamiliar number. It read, "Mr. Zhang, I'm the reporter who interviewed you after today's match.
If you have time, I'd love to have a more in-depth conversation with you. I'm staying at Le Negresco in Nice's old town, room 607."
Zhang Kuang stared at the message for two seconds, then locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket.
The team took the bus back to their hotel in Nice. After returning to his room, he checked in with the team manager and asked for leave.
The team manager was easygoing about it. After all, they had won, and the head coach had just announced in the dressing room that tomorrow would be a day off. The players were effectively free to do as they pleased now; they simply had to let someone know, since they needed to register which players would be taking the team bus back to Auxerre.
Le Negresco, 607.
The hotel was right on England People's Avenue, less than a ten-minute walk from where he was staying.
Zhang Kuang glanced at his watch-8:23 p.m.
As he stepped outside the hotel, the night breeze from the Mediterranean Sea swept into his face, carrying a salty dampness.
Zhang Kuang headed west along England People's Avenue. There were few pedestrians, with only the occasional local out for a nighttime run or an elderly person walking a dog passing by.
Le Negresco was one of the most famous luxury hotels in Nice, its pink dome particularly striking in the night. Zhang Kuang pushed through the doors into the lobby, where the marble floor reflected the glow of crystal chandeliers.
Room 607 was a sea-view suite at the end of the sixth-floor corridor. Zhang Kuang pressed the doorbell, and a few seconds later, the door opened.
Marina Durand stood in the doorway in a burgundy silk robe, her hair loose over her shoulders and light makeup on her face.
She looked younger than she did on camera, probably in her early twenties, with delicate features and a tall, slender figure. Her collarbones peeked out from the neckline of her robe.
"Mr. Zhang, you're here." Her voice was much more velvety than during the interview. "Please, come in."
Zhang Kuang entered the room and closed the door.
The room was spacious, with a panoramic view of the Bay of Angels beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. An open bottle of red wine and two glasses sat on the coffee table.
"A drink?" Marina picked up the bottle and poured two glasses.
Zhang Kuang took his glass, swirled it gently, then took a sip.
"You were outstanding today." Marina sat opposite him and crossed her legs. The hem of her robe fell open, revealing a stretch of fair calf. "Two goals, each more brilliant than the last. Especially the second one-that movement and composure in front of goal weren't like those of an eighteen-year-old."
"Thanks. Your balls are each more spectacular than the last, too," Zhang Kuang said, raising an eyebrow.
"Ha! Your French is very good. You barely have an accent." Marina tilted her head as she looked at him. "Did you learn it back home?"
"I taught myself," Zhang Kuang lied without batting an eye.
"You taught yourself to this level?" Marina smiled. "Mr. Zhang, there are so many things about you that make me curious."
Zhang Kuang set down his glass and looked straight into her eyes. "There are plenty of things about me to make you curious. You can take your time discovering them."
Marina's smile deepened.
She stood, walked over to the window, and drew the curtains halfway closed. The room grew dim, leaving only the bedside lamp and the moonlight reflected off the sea outside.
Then she turned around and gently tugged at the belt of her robe.
The burgundy silk slid to the floor.
Zhang Kuang's gaze traveled slowly down from her face, unhurried and as composed as when he studied an opposing defense on the pitch.
The details of what followed were not for outsiders to hear.
If it had to be summed up in one sentence-the Hehuan Sect's cultivation technique had once again proved its worth in actual combat.
An hour later, Marina lay facedown on the bed, looking utterly drained, without even the strength to lift a finger. Her hair lay tangled across the pillow, her breathing heavy and uneven, and fine beads of sweat still dotted her forehead.
"You... you're not human," she said weakly, her voice hoarse.
Zhang Kuang leaned against the headboard, his breathing steady, as though nothing had happened.
"I'm certainly not human," he said with a perfectly straight face. "I'm an immortal."
Marina rolled her eyes, buried her face in the pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Zhang Kuang put her through another vigorous round. Marina was going crazy-that suffocating sensation after being tossed into the clouds was addictive.
"I... I originally wanted to talk business with you, but I don't have the strength now. I'll call you later. I need to sleep."
With that, Marina fell fast asleep. Zhang Kuang gave a speechless chuckle, then washed up, got dressed, and left the hotel to return to Auxerre.
Surely, as I become more and more famous, there'll be more and more outstanding, high-quality women around me. What a prospect to look forward to.