Awakening the Messi template, Florentino Pérez begs me to join Real Madrid

In Guangzhou, the afternoons are most stuffy around 2 or 3 pm on weekends. Wu Shi squats by a community sports field, looking at his phone.

Evergrande won again, and the news is full of Elkeson, who scores in every game.

Comments are praising Lippi's good eye for talent, and saying that Evergrande's emergency signing was a big move.

Wu Shi locked his phone screen.

He played quite well in training matches, but when the official match roster was announced, his name was still listed at the back.

The coaching staff's meaning was very clear: a foreign player who could consistently score goals and a sixteen-year-old kid who was sometimes good and sometimes not—the choice was obvious.

There were several teams playing, one side was short one player. A middle-aged man with a beer belly, wearing an old Manchester United jersey, shouted at him, "Hey kid! Want to help out? We're short one player."

Wu Shi looked up at the sky; there was nothing wrong with going back. "Okay."

"Play as a defender," the uncle casually instructed. "Just stand in the back, don't rush around, just pass the ball when it comes."

The field was full of familiar faces, calling out each other's nicknames as they passed the ball. Wu Shi, positioned on the defensive line, looked like an unnecessary post.

The ball was passed around in midfield, but no one passed it forward, and no one looked back at him.

"Over here!" Wu Shi ran out of space and raised his hand.

The person with the ball was a young man wearing glasses. He glanced at him, flicked his foot, turned around and passed the ball to another person.

"Kid, just watch, don't rush," the beer-bellied uncle shouted from the backstage.

Wu Shi remained silent.

At that moment, a middle-aged man wearing brand-new Adidas sneakers and with slicked-back hair snorted. He was from the opposing team and happened to be next to Wu Shi.

He looked Wu Shi up and down a few times, then said to the beer-bellied uncle, "Old Chen, where did you find this student? He's so skinny, don't let him get smashed to pieces."

A few people nearby chuckled a few times.

Wu Shi glanced at him but didn't say anything.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 202ᴋᴋs.ᴄᴏᴍ]

Then I'll do it myself.

He silently told himself, "System, shut it down."

All those subtle notification sounds and tactical maneuvers in my mind vanished instantly. The world became peaceful.

A few minutes later, the opposing team made a lazy cross, and the ball rolled slowly towards them.

Wu Shi stepped forward, tapped the ball with his left foot, and stopped it. The slick-haired man was right next to him. Seeing him get the ball, he slowly came up to block him, a slight smile on his lips, probably thinking the kid would panic.

Wu Shi flicked the ball to the right with his right foot, followed by his body, and easily got past him.

The slick-haired man was taken aback, not expecting such a decisive response.

Wu Shi dribbled forward. The basketball court didn't have much of a formation; the area in front was completely empty.

He was still far from the goal when he looked up, then swung his right foot and kicked.

The ball skimmed low to the ground, not at a particularly sharp angle, but with decent speed. The opposing goalkeeper, a portly man, was talking to someone with his back turned. By the time he reacted, the ball had already rolled into the goal.

1: 0.

"Heh!" the beer-bellied uncle exclaimed first, "Not bad, kid!"

The slick-haired man looked a little grim and muttered, "He must have been guessing."

Wu Shi ignored him and ran back to his seat.

The game restarts. Probably because they lost possession, the opposing team is playing more carefully now.

The slick-haired man seemed to be getting into the swing of things and started actively asking for the ball. Once he got the ball, he wanted to show off, but his dribbling was a bit sluggish, and he was intercepted by Wu Shi's team.

The ball rolled to Wu Shi's feet. The slick-haired man immediately pressed close, making subtle movements with his hands, shoving him around the waist.

Wu Shi turned his back to the opponent, feeling their effort. He swayed his shoulder to the left, pulled the ball back with his right foot, turned around, and brushed past it from the other side.

It was a simple movement, but the greasy-haired man lost his balance and almost tripped over himself.

Wu Shi dribbled the ball to the edge of the penalty area, but this time he didn't take a long-range shot. Looking at the goalkeeper's position, he pushed the ball into the bottom right corner. The ball slowly rolled in.

2: 0.

"Beautiful!" This time, there were several more cheers.

The slick-haired man's face darkened completely. He yelled at his teammates, "Keep an eye on him! Don't let him get away with it so easily!"

Wu Shi started to move away from the ball. He began to ask for the ball more often and also started passing it to his teammates.

He passed the beer-bellied uncle a one-on-one chance, and the uncle happily scored. Then he passed the bespectacled student a good pass, and that went in too.

He seized two more opportunities, one by taking advantage of a loophole and the other by grabbing a spot.

The slick-haired man got impatient later. Once, when Wu Shi passed him, he grabbed his jersey and pulled hard.

Wu Shi stumbled slightly but still managed to protect the ball. Someone on the sidelines shouted, "Old fox, why are you messing with a kid!"

The greasy-haired man was panting and didn't say anything more, but his eyes were very unfriendly.

The match ended with a score of 7-1. Wushi won by a large margin.

"Wow, that's awesome, buddy!" The beer-bellied uncle, drenched in sweat, patted Wu Shi on the shoulder. "You've trained, haven't you? From a sports school, right?"

"Just kicking randomly." Wu Shi chuckled, wiping the sweat from his face.

"You call that just kicking haphazardly? We old folks come here every week, and we've never seen anyone play so skillfully," said the bespectacled student. "How old are you? Are you even eighteen?"

"sixteen."

"Sixteen?!" Everyone was stunned.

The slick-haired man was packing his things in the distance and didn't come over. He glanced at Wu Shi with a gloomy face and muttered something indistinctly.

Wu Shi didn't pay any attention, walked to the shade of a tree by the field, and took out a water bottle from his bag to get a drink. Just then, his phone rang.

He answered the call and casually turned on speakerphone—his hands were sweaty, and he was too lazy to hold it up.

"Feed?"

"Hello, are you a Wushi player?" A rather formal male voice answered the phone.

"I am."

"Dear Wu Shi player, this is the management office of the Chinese U19 National Men's Football Team. We are officially informing you that you have been selected for the current national youth team training camp and will participate in the Asian Youth Football Championship starting next month. Have you received our written call-up letter?"

The sound wasn't loud, but several people around the ball heard it.

The air suddenly went still.

The beer-bellied man stared wide-eyed, nearly dropping the ball he was holding. The bespectacled student's eyes widened, glancing at his phone and then at Wu Shi.

Upon hearing this, the slick-haired man froze, then abruptly raised his head.

Wu Shi said into his phone, "Yeah, I just saw the text message."

"Okay. Please report to the Xianghe National Football Training Base before 9:5 AM on May 10th. We will send the detailed itinerary and documents to your club simultaneously. Do you have any further questions?"

"That's all. Got it."

"Alright, I won't bother you any longer. Goodbye."

The phone hangs up.

The field fell silent for a few seconds.

"Holy crap?!" the beer-bellied man exclaimed incredulously, "The...the national youth team?! The Asian Cup??"

"Is it really a national-level project?" A voice next to me changed.

The slick-haired man paused for two seconds, then his face lit up with joy. He slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "Hey! I knew it! I knew this kid was something special! Those dribbling skills, that shot—could an ordinary student kick anything like that?!"

He jumped to his feet, excitedly shouting to his teammates, "Did you hear that? The national youth team! No wonder we couldn't beat them! We didn't just concede seven goals today, we played against national team players! And we even scored one! How prestigious is that!"

"Quick, quick, search it! Wu Shi... is it the one from Hengda?" Someone had already taken out their phone and started searching.

"It really is him! Evergrande's number 21! Holy crap, it really is him! The news said he scored a world-class goal at Hongkou Stadium last month!"

"Hurry up, Lao Liu, add me to your soccer group! I need to tell you, I played against the national youth team today!"

"I want to join the group too! I even have a wingman, though it was a fluke..."

The slick-haired man spoke the loudest: "I went head-to-head with him! He beat me twice? Does that count as beating him? I was just testing him!..."

Looking at the scene before him, Wu Shi felt a mix of amusement and helplessness. He silently put away his water bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Um... Xiao Wu... oh no, Wu Shi player!" The beer-bellied uncle realized what was happening and quickly came over, his tone becoming respectful, "Will you... will you be playing again next week?"

Wu Shichong and the others nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Excited voices could still be faintly heard behind them:

"Have you taken the photos yet?"

"Quick, post this on your WeChat Moments!"

"What should the title be? 'I almost stopped the national team player today'..."