Chapter 199: Why Is Your Trophy Hot?

On his day off, Tang Ye, who had already eaten a hamburger, squatted at home playing games.

At noon, Pohl called Tang Ye, saying a U. S. tech company wanted to discuss a sponsorship and promotion deal with him.

Tang Ye immediately refused.

Endorsements were ultimately secondary; the team's schedule was already packed, and if he took on more promotions, he figured he'd lose even his gaming time.

Seeing Tang Ye refuse, Pohl didn't press further.

But Pohl mentioned on the phone that the American company was very interested in Tang Ye, and if he changed his mind, he could contact Pohl anytime.

That evening, after spending the whole day playing Wizard, Tang Ye received a message from Neymar.

【CS, gogogo!】

Though not voice, the three English letters revealed the Brazilian's excitement.

He was just one point away from the next rank; if Tang Ye ran a smurf account and carried him a few matches, promotion was guaranteed!

Tang Ye rubbed his eyes and checked the time in the lower-right corner.

18:25

Adjusting his headset, Tang Ye picked up his phone and asked Rodrigo, who was dining out with friends, to bring him a Red Bull on his way back.

Not Valdi's Red Bull.

RedBull Red Bull—the real one you can actually drink.

He'd been gaming all day and was getting sleepy; he needed some caffeine to wake up.

"You're tired? Maybe you should rest a bit."

Neymar's voice came through.

"No problem, this rank is easy. Just don't die—keep sending me snipers. I'm going to wash my face. Call Osman—he's online on Steam."

One advantage of CS over LOL is that one player can determine a lot.

In LOL, if Tang Ye carried both Neymar and Dembélé at once, he couldn't guarantee a 100% win rate, but in CS, that wasn't a big issue.

Neymar and Dembélé sent him snipers; Tang Ye killed enemies while chatting with Neymar—it was bliss.

"Front! Front! Any smoke? Just throw it, just throw it!"

"Damn, Osman, your smoke came back! No problem, no problem—I can still kill, I can still kill. OK OK, all dead, all dead."

Tang Ye was enjoying himself when a knock came at the door.

He didn't need to guess—it was Rodrigo bringing the Red Bull. Tang Ye pulled off his headset, rushed to open the door, then sprinted back to his chair.

"Neymar, give me the AK. OK OK, no problem, you can use your pistol—remember to buy smoke."

Tap-tap-tap-tap!

The keyboard clatter filled the room; Tang Ye stared intently at the screen, seven or eight gum wrappers littering the table.

"Safe, safe—he's probably going to B. I'll go find him."

"Neymar, don't rush. OK OK, I see him. OK, he's dead."

【Victory】

Tang Ye spat the gum into the trash and felt pressure behind his left shoulder—he turned his head: "How was it, Rodrigo? You should've come earlier—I got a five-kill in the last round…"

Tang Ye slowly lifted his head and realized the person behind him wasn't one person, but two.

"Mr. Ferran?"

Tang Ye removed his headset and stared blankly at Escrivá, then glanced at the can of Red Bull in Rodrigo's hand.

Rodrigo handed the Red Bull to Tang Ye: "I was having dinner with Ferran and the U21 players. He knew I live with you, so he came along."

"To check on you."

Escrivá added.

Tang Ye stood up, twisted open the Red Bull, and downed it in a few gulps.

"It's already night—won't this keep you awake?"

Escrivá stared at Tang Ye's computer screen, puzzled by his behavior.

"You mean Red Bull? No problem—I can drink three cans and still sleep. I sleep great."

Tang Ye tossed the empty can into the trash with a sharp "thwack."

The head coach visiting his home had made Tang Ye feel relaxed—until he noticed Escrivá staring at his computer screen.

Tang Ye raised an eyebrow: "Mr. Ferran, do you play this too?"

"I don't play."

Escrivá shook his head, then pointed at Tang Ye's screen: "Neymar? Is that the real Neymar?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

Escrivá nodded and put on Tang Ye's headset.

Escrivá knew Neymar, but their relationship was only casual—nothing compared to Tang Ye and Neymar's bond.

Tom and Neymar were comrades!

Escrivá exchanged a few brief pleasantries with Neymar.

"Didn't expect you'd be gaming with Tom, haha."

"It's not me carrying him…"

Neymar paused: "Oh, minor issue—I often carry Tom."

"Alright, you two keep playing. I'll play with Osman… oh, never mind, I'll rest for now."

Neymar left the room and sent Tang Ye a message via phone.

He basically asked Tang Ye to wait until the guests had left before messaging him again.

Rodrigo swiveled in Tang Ye's gaming chair; Escrivá stood by the table, running his fingers over Tang Ye's trophies.

Golden Boy, La Liga Match MVP, Europa League Match MVP, Europa League Player of the Month, King's Cup Match MVP.

So many trophies. Tang Ye's laptop, external monitor, and external keyboard and mouse took up one-third of the table—the other two-thirds were filled with trophies.

Escrivá's eyes instantly caught the golden sphere behind the laptop.

The Golden Boy trophy!

This was the Golden Boy trophy Tang Ye won in November last year—one of the key factors in Villarreal's failed negotiations with Utrecht.

A golden base with a golden sphere—God's gift to a genius.

The pride of Villarreal!

Hmm… also Villarreal's regret.

"Wow, you don't have someone put this away? You should seal it in glass—otherwise it'll collect dust."

Escrivá reached out to pick up the Golden Boy trophy.

But the instant his fingers touched the golden sphere, he snatched his hand back.

"Damn!"

"Why is your trophy hot?"

Huh?

Rodrigo dug his heels into the floor, sliding his chair over to Tang Ye's desk.

Like Escrivá, Rodrigo reached out to touch the trophy.

Hmm—Ferran was right. The trophy really was warm.

Wait.

"Why is it warm?"

Rodrigo turned to Tang Ye; Escrivá turned too.

"Warm?"

Tang Ye froze, then stood up.

He picked up the trophy in both hands.

Not hot, not cold—just warm. And only one side was warm.

Tang Ye realized: "Oh, probably heated by my laptop's cooling."

Escrivá reached out to touch Tang Ye's laptop: "It's not hot."

"It was hot a moment ago—I wasn't playing this game then."

Tang Ye tried to explain to Escrivá how different games affect computer temperatures, but decided against it.

"Alright. You, you're impressive…"

Escrivá carefully took the Golden Boy trophy from Tang Ye's hands.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed this Golden Boy trophy was unusually distinctive.

Not only was one side warm, but it was also dusty.

Looking at Tang Ye's other trophies, arranged chronologically, the older ones sat further back.

The MVP trophies from months ago were the same as the one in Escrivá's hands—when examined closely, they too showed dust.

"Can't be this lazy…"

Escrivá was about to scold Tang Ye when he noticed the external mechanical keyboard in front of the screen.

Its orange RGB lighting was striking, but more importantly—the keyboard was spotless.

The keyboard in Escrivá's office base was full of debris in the crevices, but Tang Ye's had not a speck of dust.

Alright.

Never mind.

Escriba put the trophy back where it was on the table, and Rodri picked it up again.

The Golden Boy Award, nearly identical in appearance to the Ballon d'Or.

Holding the item that belonged to his elder brother, Rodri's heartbeat gradually quickened.

Something meant for a genius—too bad he lacked his brother's talent…

Escriba sat on the table and told Tang Ye why he had come all the way here with Rodri.

In February, Villarreal's matches will be frequent, and the opponents are all strong.

Escriba simply wanted to remind Tang Ye to pay attention to rest these days.

"I'm mainly worried you'll play games too late, Tom—if you don't get enough sleep, it'll affect your training the next day."

"I know, Mr. Ferran. I hardly stay up late anymore."

Unless there's a continuous rest period of more than three days, Tang Ye no longer stays up late.

Since joining Utrecht's first team, Tang Ye had realized one truth.

Happiness isn't something you can only get from games.

He was looking forward to celebrating with Bruno, Sebastián, and the others after winning a match!

That too is happiness—and even better happiness!

…

"Here we go!"

Tang Ye shouted twice and surged forward from the arc.

This was a corner kick taken by captain Bruno.

Tang Ye got to the first point!

B Team's defense in the box was dense, so Tang Ye abandoned the header.

He stuck out his foot to stop the ball.

"Beautiful!"

Escriba, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help shouting: "Look at Ma Di—this is the result of training. When Tom first came here, his ball control was crude, but now it's much better."

Ma Di crouched on the ground, quickly writing with a pen in his notebook.

Report.

Tom (17 years old)

Height: 177 cm

Template: Platini/Eriksen

Evaluation:

1. Exceptional creativity.

2. Top-tier first-touch passing ability.

3. Weak covering ability, but extremely broad vision and outstanding tactical awareness.

4. Has some defensive and shooting ability, but limited.

5. Despite being a midfielder, his goal-scoring instinct is no weaker than most forwards.

Five points already. Now Ma Di needed to add one more point to his notebook.

6. Average ball feel, but still considerable room for improvement (even though the player is already 17).

Generally, a player's ball feel improves fastest between ages 8 and 14. Yet Tang Ye's ball feel showed visible improvement in just half a year at age 17—a point that puzzled Ma Di.

But every genius is unique; Tang Ye's ball feel developing slightly slower is understandable.

Training!

Need to stimulate Tom's ball control through training!

"Go forward! Go forward!"

Tang Ye stopped the ball with his foot, so his first-touch control module wasn't activating.

Then don't rush to pass—keep the ball close to his feet.

"Pass it!"

Escriba shouted from the sideline: "Damn, I knew this guy!"

Ma Di looked up, then continued writing the seventh point in his notebook.

7. Lacks discipline.

It wasn't really Tang Ye's fault—he didn't pay attention to auditory cues when he was focused on playing.

Unless a sound was sharp and came from very close range, Tang Ye wouldn't hear it.

Having controlled the ball at the arc, B Team's defender Mousaquió sprinted out.

They were teammates; Mousaquió knew exactly how Tang Ye played.

As long as Villarreal's number 10 didn't pass the ball on his first touch, he'd stand frozen in place for six to eight seconds.

That window was Mousaquió's chance!

Tang Ye moved sideways with the ball; Mousaquió stuck tightly to him.

Tang Ye waited for Cherishov and Bakambu to find good positions in the box, but neither did.

It felt tough—this pass wasn't going to work.

So Tang Ye suddenly accelerated!

Mousaquió rushed to catch up.

This guy is 200% going to curl it into the far corner!

As Tang Ye's movement intensified, Mousaquió stepped forward, ready to block his shooting trajectory.

At that moment, Tang Ye's body suddenly paused strangely.

Like hitting a 0.1-second pause button in a game.

Mousaquió:?

Escriba:?

Turning off the pause button, Tang Ye kept walking forward.

Now it was very hard for Mousaquió to catch up.

Pah!

He slotted a low, driven shot.

Tang Ye didn't aim for an angle—but the ball still went in.

The reason? Defender Mousaquió didn't interfere with his shot at all.

This shot was just like a one-on-one breakaway against the goalkeeper!

"Hah!"

With the feeling of using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, Tang Ye joyfully raised both arms.

Outside, Escriba and Ma Di exchanged glances; the latter suddenly understood.

7. Lacks discipline.

Hmm, strike that out.

7. …

7. …

Ma Di was already unsure what to write, and now Escriba was watching him—making Ma Di nervous.

After careful thought, Ma Di finally picked up his pen.

7. I don't know.

…

DQ Sports Preview: At 4:00 a. m. on February 9, the second leg of the King's Cup semifinal, Villarreal vs. Celta, at home.

The long-awaited second leg of the semifinal has finally arrived!

Notably, the day before this match, Barcelona defeated Atlético 1-0 at home, leading 1-0 on aggregate and advancing to the King's Cup final.

That means the winner of today's semifinal will face Barcelona in the final!

"We just need one more win to play Barça."

Sitting on the bench in the locker room, Tang Ye excitedly bounced his leg.

Bruno looked Tang Ye up and down: "Playing Barça isn't exactly good news, is it?"

"Hmm… maybe not…"

Tang Ye realized: "But… I made a promise with Junior to meet in the final."

Before the first leg against Celta, Neymar had messaged Tang Ye saying they'd meet in the King's Cup final.

Now that Barcelona had advanced early, Tang Ye was naturally happy for his friend.

But after that joy, Tang Ye had to refocus on today's match.

Villarreal led 3-0 in the first leg, so the pressure here wouldn't be too heavy.

But!

Just now, head coach Escriba told the players that Celta might unveil something new today.

The King's Cup is Celta's only chance at a trophy this season.

They're going all out!

……

(End of chapter)