Chapter Two: Alone

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PS: Wishing all readers... watermark advertisement test... watermark advertisement test. Happy birthday to my beloved Hideyoshi! Just as the title of this chapter suggests, may you always XXX. By the way, thanks to the three readers who cast the most recommendation votes this week: Digging Pits and Falling Into Wells, piao12345, and Qing Mountain's Dripping Water.

Within the small private room, the most conspicuous item was the birthday cake atop the little wooden table, followed by a spread of various dishes arranged on the table.

Indeed, a variety of dishes: stir-fried tomatoes and eggs, hand-torn cabbage, braised pork, stir-fried pork with green peppers, plain steamed buns, and a large bottle of Coca-Cola, of course, accompanied by some beer. Mo Mo and Shao Jiayi both appeared somewhat awkward; at last, it was Mo Mo who spoke up.

“Ah! It’s your birthday today!? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shao Jiayi, beside him, seemed embarrassed. He was only twenty-two this year and had no experience with such occasions, inwardly complaining—how could Mo Mo forget something like this?

Li Qing shot Mo Mo a glance and stood up. She wore a pair of jeans, which at that time were truly at the forefront of fashion. Mo Mo didn’t think much of it, but Shao Jiayi’s gaze became a little strange—jeans?

“I never told you—how did you know it was my birthday today, hmm? And you brought someone with you?”

She looked at Shao Jiayi, who, standing at 188 centimeters, made Mo Mo seem especially short beside him.

“Ah! Originally, my brother and I just wanted to get together. By the way, how old are you today?”

Mo Mo tried to change the topic, while Shao Jiayi, stubborn as ever, blurted out,

“That’s right! We didn’t prepare any gifts.”

Mo Mo turned, eyes wide, staring at Shao Jiayi! Come on, couldn’t you see I was avoiding this topic!? At that moment, Li Qing spoke.

“No need to be so formal. I usually spend my birthdays alone, so it’s good you came.”

Her words left Mo Mo feeling a bit odd. He and Shao Jiayi took their seats, almost as if Li Qing were the bandit king presiding over the mountain, while Mo Mo and Shao Jiayi were the ones being interrogated—a scenario fraught with awkwardness.

Shao Jiayi tugged at Mo Mo, signaling him to say something. Mo Mo shot back a look—if you want to talk, you talk! I’d rather die than speak! Shao Jiayi responded only by sitting up straight, so Mo Mo coughed and said,

“Ah, you haven’t told us how old you are this year, haha!”

Li Qing picked up a piece of braised pork, popped it in her mouth, and chewed contentedly before raising her head and looking at Mo Mo.

“Nineteen. Why? Little brother?”

Mo Mo was instantly at a loss. Sigh! Actually, counting both my lifetimes... Sigh, what should I do in this situation? He closed his eyes and summoned the weakling trainer Su Yichen. After gaining a few training points, he felt thoroughly satisfied—this weakling trainer was proving useful!

With his mood settled and a few more training points earned, Mo Mo’s automatic attribute allocation system began deducting points again, distributing them evenly among his traits—saving him much trouble.

“N-no reason! Happy birthday! But why didn’t you mention it when we talked on the phone?”

Though he hadn’t yet received his signing bonus, he still had money to buy a gift. However, Li Qing simply raised her eyelids and gave a half-smile.

“You didn’t tell me either. Besides, there’s someone else here, isn’t there?”

At this, Shao Jiayi tried to smooth things over. Whether a dinner or birthday, it should be a happy occasion—why did Mo Mo and Li Qing seem on the verge of an argument?

“There’s a saying—don’t talk while eating, don’t speak while sleeping! Let’s just eat!”

Hearing this, Mo Mo and Li Qing exchanged a glance. Li Qing’s eyes seemed to say, Is this your way of telling me to shut up? Mo Mo’s attitude was more like, Sigh, it’s your birthday, you’re the boss, say whatever you want. Li Qing raised her chin and looked at Shao Jiayi.

“Eat!”

Suddenly, it felt as if the company boss had spoken at a dinner. After some time, the three finished their meal, opened the birthday cake, and after eating some cake, fell into silence. Shao Jiayi seemed awkward and whispered in Mo Mo’s ear.

“I’m going to head out first. Have fun, okay?”

Have fun? Mo Mo was about to reply, but Shao Jiayi was already up, saying goodbye, and left in style. None of them had really drunk much beer—in fact, Shao Jiayi was the only one who drank. After he left, Li Qing stood up, looked at Mo Mo, and smiled.

“Well then! We’ve eaten, time to go home.”

Mo Mo could sense that Li Qing was having some emotional trouble, but felt it wasn’t his place to ask.

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“Ah, okay! Happy birthday. How about I pay the bill?”

Li Qing, almost at the door, abruptly stopped, turned, and looked at Mo Mo.

“What? You think I can’t afford it? Don’t start with that nonsense about girls not paying. Consider it returning your last favor.”

The door opened and closed. Li Qing left the private room. Mo Mo didn’t even get a chance to offer to see her off—he hadn’t even spoken, she was already gone. Just as he was about to leave, the door suddenly swung open.

Well, the door opening wasn’t an issue, but it opened inward and caught Mo Mo by surprise. It didn’t hurt, just startled him.

“Ah, sorry, I forgot something.”

Mo Mo just smiled.

“No problem! It didn’t hurt. How about I walk you out?”

Li Qing entered, grabbed her phone from the table, slipped it into her pocket, and without much patience said,

“I was planning to call and scold you, but seeing how you’re so sensible—and you reminded me about my phone—I’ll let it go for now. However—”

As she said “however,” Li Qing stepped forward and flicked Mo Mo’s forehead sharply, the sound crisp and clear. Mo Mo, rubbing his head, was bewildered—what was that for!?

“But you didn’t bring me a gift!”

Mo Mo was dumbfounded. Come on, hadn’t you just said not to be so formal? Now you’re acting like you really wanted a gift, or are you just looking for an excuse to flick my forehead?

As they walked out, Mo Mo saw three people, which astonished him. He called out to Li Qing, pointing at the three walking down the street.

“Li Qing! Do you know those three?”

Li Qing looked in the direction Mo Mo pointed, seeing three young Germans—with nothing particularly notable, except one had a large nose and another very fair skin.

“No, never heard of them. Are they famous?”

Well, Li Qing didn’t know, but Mo Mo did! The kid with the big nose was Thomas Müller, age thirteen, probably just joined Bayern Munich’s youth academy. The one about Mo Mo’s height was Philipp Lahm, probably nineteen now.

Most importantly, his situation was similar to Mo Mo’s—Bayern’s first team had a main defender, Bixente Lizarazu, making Lahm’s position awkward, especially since the team preferred tall defenders. His small stature was unpopular.

The fair-skinned one was Bastian Schweinsteiger, age eighteen, currently playing for Bayern Munich’s reserve team. Mo Mo suddenly had an idea; he pulled out his phone and dialed Mino Raiola.

“Mino, where are you?”

On the other end came the sounds of a noisy conversation, clearly discussing something, but Mino Raiola still took time to answer Mo Mo’s call.

“Me? Damn it! Be careful with that! I’m looking into your housing situation. I think you should get a driver’s license, buy a car, and have your own place. I’ve checked out 1860 Munich’s dorm—can’t believe you’ve put up with it so long!”

Mo Mo was speechless—not that he cared much, but he was touched by Raiola’s thoughtfulness.

“So, you’re in Germany? Munich? Right?”

Raiola’s exaggerated voice came through, breathing heavily,

“Of course! Of course! Why are you calling now? I was planning to surprise you tonight.”

Well, Mo Mo really wanted to reply, “Is it my fault?” But business first.

“Mino! Listen, I’ve found three exceptionally talented players. You must come and sign them! I guarantee you won’t regret it!”

Mo Mo gave Raiola his location and was considering how best to keep the three when Li Qing, understanding his intent, marched up to the future stars and blocked their way.

Internally, Mo Mo was collapsing! If he could choose again, he would never meddle!

“Hey! Look—we have no bad intentions. If you could spare a moment, please wait.”

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Ten minutes later... a café in Germany...

Six people sat in a row. Mo Mo, eyes closed, took the chance to torment his weakling trainer Su Yichen, having finally regained some energy. At first, the three were adamant about not staying, but after being offered food, they reluctantly agreed.

The biggest credit went to Thomas Müller, who was quite the talker—a trait that would become his trademark in later years. When Mino Raiola arrived, he was all smiles, but upon seeing the three sitting before him, though he kept smiling, Mo Mo knew Raiola was far from pleased.

“Hey, kid! These are the three talented players you mentioned? I only vaguely recognize two of them—who’s the little one?”

Raiola’s funds weren’t abundant; at this time, he had no golden goose, his biggest recent income being Mo Mo’s transfer commission. He did intend to find some promising players—his first target was Zlatan Ibrahimović at Ajax.

“Do you know who these three are? Bastian Schweinsteiger! Philipp Lahm!! Thomas Müller!!!”

Raiola’s expression was as if to say, “So what?”

“Don’t you think they’re immensely talented???”

Raiola’s expression was indecipherable—whether to laugh or cry. In fact, agents rarely sought out such young players, first because they weren’t valuable yet; second, after painstakingly nurturing them, they might end up with a different agent; third, talented but unknown players required enormous effort.

Some might say—they’re Bayern Munich youth or reserve players. So what? Mo Mo once had the “Real Madrid” label, but did it help? Even Barcelona, famed for its academy, by 2016 had only one homegrown player on their front line. Real Madrid? For years, their first-team forwards, starters or substitutes, were almost entirely bought.

At Barcelona, Luis Suárez and Neymar dashed the hopes of untold academy talents. Faced with potential versus proven stars, big clubs always chose the latter without hesitation.

And agents? They favored players with established value or those beginning to shine—Mo Mo barely qualified, but Schweinsteiger, Lahm, Müller?

Müller had just entered Bayern’s youth academy; Schweinsteiger hadn’t played in a formal match, still a reserve player; Lahm had played many matches for Bayern’s reserves, but not the first team, and his height was a major criticism.

Moreover, Raiola was only one man, without a large team to handle affairs. He wanted to follow an elite path, and too many players would be unmanageable.

“Damn kid, you’ve set me a real dilemma!”

Seeing Raiola hesitate, Li Qing couldn’t sit still. She didn’t think much of the three boys, nor was she interested in staring at them any longer. So, after giving Mo Mo a sharp kick, she grabbed her bag and left.

With Li Qing gone, as if triggering a fuse, Philipp Lahm spoke up.

“Excuse me, are you agents?”

Lahm had recently been troubled by some issues and was considering finding an agent. The two before him clearly weren’t father and son, and having stayed behind with three players—no, Lahm glanced at Müller—two unknowns, they could only be agents.

Mo Mo tugged at Raiola, who glanced at him, then spoke.

“Yes, I am Mino Raiola. I wonder if any of you have agents. If not, would you be willing to let me represent you?”

No sooner had Raiola finished than Thomas Müller stood up, staring wide-eyed.

“Really? You’re an agent? Is it because I’m talented in football?”

Lahm pulled the excited Müller down—please, you’ve only just joined Bayern’s youth academy! Raiola glanced at Mo Mo, as if to ask, “Are you sure you want to sign this kid too?”

Seeing Mo Mo nod firmly, Raiola gritted his teeth, thinking, “Fine, sign him—what if he becomes famous? There’s a saying, only geniuses recognize geniuses. Might as well take a gamble.”

“Yes, I’m an agent. If you’re willing, we can sign a contract.”

Lahm and Schweinsteiger exchanged glances, ignoring the excited Müller. Lahm spoke up.

“In that case, I have a problem that’s been bothering me. If you can solve it, I’ll let you be my agent.”

Raiola’s gaze was troubled; he didn’t much like overly independent players—they tended to make decisions that caused unnecessary trouble. But he patiently listened.

“I want to seek a loan opportunity.”