Soccer: If they're using these kinds of cheats, what's the point of training?

Zhang Kuang never expected that after one night, he would not only become famous in the French football circle, but also in the private sex circle. It's true that good news doesn't travel far, but bad news travels fast.

So, the next day, when Zhang Kuang left the hotel and headed to Auxerre after abandoning the four women, his agent called.

"Oh, Zhang, I heard you were the star of the party yesterday, charming a whole bunch of girls, and then you even took on four women and brought them to your house to see your cat doing backflips?"

"..." Zhang Kuang, who was driving, almost slammed on the brakes. "Wait, Jonathan, how did word get out so fast? Wasn't it supposed to be a very private party?"

"Secret? That's relative. Well... no, don't change the subject. Zhang, you're only 18. I know you athletes have boundless energy and are bursting with hormones, but you can't waste your energy on women's bellies. You have to use it on the field."

"I know, that's why I dominate on the field, I only spare a little energy for women's bellies. I know you'll give me examples of talented players who ultimately wasted their time on women's bellies."

But I'm not like them, believe me, Jonathan. Women only fuel me, they don't drain my energy. The more women I have, the stronger I become. That's me, a unique spark…”

"Oh, shit, bullshit, Zhang, you...you...you'll ruin yourself like this..."

"Listen, Jonathan, I know you mean well. It's true that many players have been ruined by women. But, like I said, I'm different. You might not believe me, and I can't explain it to you. Don't worry, you don't need to look at my behavior in everyday life; you should judge me by my performance on the field, right?"

Jonathan was speechless for a moment on the phone. After thinking about it, he realized that as an agent, he only had the obligation to advise, not to force others, because such obligations were not included in the agency agreement.

"Oh, child, you'll ruin yourself. You'd better watch out."

Jonathan felt exhausted and didn't want to try to persuade him anymore; he just let him be.

After hanging up with his agent, Zhang Kuang gave a helpless laugh and continued driving towards the club.

Why is it a helpless smile? Because he didn't want it to be like this either. Who told him to use such a cheat code? His private life will definitely be exposed in the future, so it's better to let his agent and some acquaintances accept it sooner rather than later.

There's no need to hide it. As a football player, what matters is the brilliance on the field. If you can score in every game, even if you're a groom every day, fans will accept it. They'll just say you're energetic and know how to enjoy life.

When Zhang Kuang arrived at the Auxerre training base, he was already three minutes ahead of schedule, arriving at the exact time. Of course, he was also the last one to arrive.

He wasn't deliberately blocking the way—it was mainly due to traffic congestion and his phone call with his agent affecting his speed.

After parking the car, Zhang Kuang pushed open the locker room door.

Grihidin was sitting on a bench tying his shoelaces when he saw him come in. He grinned and said, "Oh, you've finished watching the four cats' backflip?"

A burst of laughter immediately erupted in the locker room.

"Oh, you already know? Not bad, the cat's pretty well-behaved." Zhang Kuang walked to his locker without changing his expression and started changing into his training clothes. "It's just that there's a lot of cat hair, and it sneezed several times in the middle of the night."

"Could it be a sneeze from the other head? Can it even spray? Can it spray four times in a row?" Minio peeked over from the side.

Another burst of laughter followed.

Olić leaned closer and asked in a low voice, "Four? Really? Can your body handle it?"

"My abilities in this area are quite formidable, beyond your wildest imagination. I've just always kept a low profile, because it would seriously damage my image." Zhang Kuang patted his shoulder, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather.

Pedretti walked in from outside and clapped his hands: "Alright, stop fooling around. Zhang, the coach wants you to change your clothes and go to his office."

"Hey Zhang, the head coach probably wants to ask you for your amazing skill of sleeping with four women in one night."

"I'm afraid it's because the head coach's health isn't up to par with Zhang Kuang's coaching methods."

"Hahaha……"

Zhang Kuang glared at his teammates, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and nodded.

Then an even louder burst of laughter erupted from the entire locker room.

The head coach's office is on the second floor of the training center, at the end of the corridor.

As Zhang Kuang went upstairs, he saw assistant coach Stefanie Eric standing at the door talking on the phone. When he saw Zhang Kuang come up, the assistant coach gave him a "take care" look, then took the phone and walked away.

Zhang Kuang knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Fernandez sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee that had gone cold in front of him. Several documents were spread out on the desk, the top one being the schedule for next month's matches, densely covered with red marker markings.

Fernandez looked up at Zhang Kuang, but didn't speak immediately. He pointed to the chair opposite him.

Zhang Kuang sat down.

The silence lasted for about ten seconds. Outside the window, teammates had already begun jogging to warm up on the training field, and the assistant coach's whistle could be faintly heard through the glass.

"Went to a party last night?" Fernandez finally spoke, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger.

"I've gone."

"And he took four women with him?"

"Yes."

"hiss!"

Fernandez picked up his coffee cup, took a sip—clearly annoyed by the bitterness of the cold coffee—frowned slightly, and then put the cup down.

"Zhang, I've coached many players," he said, looking into Zhang's arrogant eyes. "There are quite a few talented ones, but not many who actually make it. Do you know why?"

"Because I lack self-discipline," Zhang Kuang answered decisively.

"Since you knew that, why did you still do it? You're not just an ordinary newcomer; you're the media's focus. Your every move is being watched, written about, and circulated. Do you think nobody knows about last night? Do you think those reporters are blind?"

Zhang Kuang was silent for two seconds, then raised his head and met Fernandez's gaze.

"Coach, I understand everything you've said. But I assure you two things—"

First, my private life, no matter how I live it, will not affect my performance on the training ground or in competition. Look at my training data over the past two weeks; which statistic has declined? Do you think my legs would be weak the next day after I've been with several women in one night? I run faster than anyone else on the field, right?

Secondly, if I fail to score in any of the upcoming matches, or if my form noticeably declines, you can immediately bench me, or even send me to the reserve team; I will accept it without question.

Fernandez was taken aback, not expecting Zhang Kuang to make such a guarantee.

In reality, Zhang Kuang made this promise out of desperation. He might be able to fool the head coach this time, but what about next time? And the time after that? So, it's better to use his abilities to make the head coach accept his chaotic private life.

Fernandez stared at the arrogant young man for a few seconds, his eyes holding the kind of authority typical of an old-school coach, like a ruler, trying to measure how much of the young man's confidence and arrogance was genuine and how much was just empty boasting.

"You make it sound so easy," the veteran coach's voice turned serious. "Substitute for a team that doesn't score a single goal? Do you think football is arithmetic? A striker not scoring could be due to poor midfield passing, the opponent's targeted defense, or the team's overall poor form—you're making such a definitive statement to shoulder all the blame?"

Zhang Kuang was stunned for a moment, not expecting Fernandez to say such a thing. He had thought the old coach would continue to scold him, but judging from his tone, it seemed that he was worried about his "taking on too much."

"Coach, I'm not taking responsibility; I'm confident in my abilities."

Fernandez leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and remained silent for a long time.

"Zhang, I don't care about your private life. That's your business, not mine." He finally spoke, his tone softer than before. "But there's one condition—if your performance on the field declines, I won't give you a second chance. I don't care how many goals you score in a game, I just want you to do one thing: when you're on the field, give it your all."

"clear."

"Alright, go out and train."

Zhang Kuang stood up and walked to the door when Fernandez called him back.

"open."

"Um?"

"The next French Cup match is against Sedan. They're a Ligue 2 team, not very strong, but you're still in the starting lineup. Don't let me down."

Zhang Kuang turned around, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Coach, don't worry. I'll score even more goals in the next game."

---

January 26, French Cup, Round of 1.

Auxerre will host Sedan.

The Abe-Deschamps Stadium was already packed an hour before kickoff. The 24,000 seats were filled with white jerseys, and banners and flags in the stands fluttered in the winter wind.

"Welcome, viewers, to the live broadcast of the Round of 16 match of the 2009-2010 French Cup! Auxerre hosts Sedan!"

In the studio in Beiping, Liu Jianhong's voice was transmitted throughout China via satellite signal.