Chapter 881: If I Played a Little Better, Maybe I Could Have

“Roar——！！！！”

This is Hernández’s second goal of the match; after scoring, he performed Mbappé’s double-armpit celebration, paying tribute to Mbappé’s godlike performance in the previous World Cup.

The full-time score is now 2:4; China is down by two goals!

“If that’s the case… sigh, I think China’s substitutions should’ve come earlier, capitalizing on the momentum after the penalty at 1:2.”

“True, but they couldn’t push further offensively after 1:2, so there’s nothing to be done.”

Commentators all expressed regret for the national team.

By the way, Griezmann’s red card was brilliantly smart.

Griezmann didn’t just receive a red card—he also handed China their chance to advance!

The match continues!

The Luzern Stadium is now filled entirely with French cheers; Chinese fans have been silenced.

The first two matches made everyone a bit overconfident, but this semifinal against France truly woke the fans up.

France can continuously launch effective attacks, while every time China tries to counter, they fail to produce anything meaningful.

Because the gap in actual strength is simply too large.

And does France seem to have some kind of natural counter to China?

“Wu Lei.”

“Beautiful!”

“Pass to the center—Tang Ye!”

Thud!

Without controlling the ball, he delivered a direct through-pass, precisely finding Aiksen charging into the penalty area.

Shot!

Thud!

“Goal!”

“But isn’t that an offside goal? Varane didn’t even make a tackle?”

“Oh, yes, it’s offside.”

Aiksen hugged his head in despair; Tang Ye kept shaking his hands.

The players on the field were confused, but the commentators could review the replay.

The replay showed that at the exact moment Wu Lei passed to Tang Ye, Varane immediately moved forward, placing Aiksen in an offside position.

Varane acted as if he knew exactly what Tang Ye would do next!

“Come on, come on!”

Tang Ye raised both hands, signaling his teammates not to stand around: “Hurry up, hurry up, get back!”

“Get ready to counter—we can still play!”

“…”

Escribá had already sat down, watching Tang Ye constantly shouting to his teammates with Mati beside him, feeling a deep pang of sympathy.

Huh…

"Onsten finale! (We made it to the final!)"

“onestenfinale!”

“ole~~”

“ole! ole! ole! ole!”

“onestenfinale!”

“Beep, beeeeeep——!!!”

“That’s it, the match is over.”

“This match was truly heartbreaking: China, making their first-ever World Cup semifinal, lost 1:4 to France and missed out on next week’s final.”

“Although the score gap was large and France dominated China in nearly every aspect, we still saw China’s players perform quite well—even scoring a penalty right at the start of the second half.”

“China had a real chance to close the gap; if they’d had more preparation time before the semifinal, perhaps the result would’ve been different.”

It sounds like an excuse for the players, but China’s overall performance in this World Cup has been genuinely stunning.

“…I’ve been commentating on football with Coach He for years now, and this year is China’s best result in history. When discussing progress, we shouldn’t always compare ourselves to others—we should compare ourselves to our own past…”

“Losing a match doesn’t make you a failure—I’ve always believed that, especially for today’s China team.”

“…”

The camera turned to the celebrating French players.

France has reached the final in both the Russian and Qatari World Cups; their World Cup record is flawless, given the sheer strength of their squad—upset victories are nearly impossible.

“bravo!”

Mbappé embraced Deschamps and Hernández, surrounded by France’s substitutes.

The director gave Mbappé only a brief shot, then switched to a dedicated camera focused on Tang Ye.

China’s captain had already been sitting on the grass for some time, arms wrapped around his knees, staring blankly at the celebrating French players in the distance.

Dembélé, Giroud, Mbappé, Varane, Lloris—all familiar players, all friends—but their joy was not his.

“Huh…”

He turned his head, as if noticing the camera filming him, then turned it back.

“Tang Ye, it’s okay!”

“It’s okay, Tang Ye!”

“You did great!”

“That’s enough! We’ve got the third-place match! We’re satisfied!”

He was holding it together—until he heard the voices from the stands.

“…”

“Damn!”

He clenched his teeth and slammed his right fist into the grass.

“Damn!!!”

…

【Sigh, congrats to France—they played really well. Any one of Dembélé or Mbappé would’ve broken us; both together? Even Jiang Guangtai wouldn’t help—you’re not even on the same level.】

【Feeling bad for Tang Ye… still yelling at teammates to get back at 88 minutes—he really wanted to win…】

【Man, my Tang Ball King crushed the Premier League and Champions League—how could he ever accept this kind of loss? Not wanting to lose is normal. I’m just frustrated—why weren’t we in the lower half? Portugal or Argentina would’ve been easier than France. For Tang Ye, Messi and Ronaldo weren’t even a challenge?】

【Boomerang, guys—would second place in the group have been better? Get placed in the lower half to reach the final.】

【Second place? What a joke. Second place gets you knocked out in the Round of 16. England’s also got wide threats—Rashford and Saka’s pace would’ve shredded us outright.】

【Enough already—aren’t you happy with fourth place? I think we’re already awesome. China, forever! Escribá, forever!】

“Beepbeepbeep!!!”

“oleole~~”

“…”

The stands were filled with French fans’ cheers.

Crushed the biggest underdog to reach the final!

Most importantly, they eliminated TY, a four-time Ballon d’Or winner, in the semifinal!

Undoubtedly, this match will greatly boost the French team’s morale—they’ll head into the final with even better form to face their opponent!

“killthegod!”

“killthegod!”

“killthegod!”

“wow!!!!!!”

In stark contrast to the noisy stands was China’s locker room.

No one spoke.

Since the start of this World Cup, China had never suffered such a crushing defeat.