Chapter 196 Heavy Snow at Camp Nou

Chapter 196 Heavy Snow at Camp Nou

Chapter 196 Heavy Snow at Camp Nou
As Song Wen's remarks continued to ferment, things began to get increasingly out of control.

Outside Atletico Madrid's training base, a video of Barcelona's extreme fans burning Song Wen's jersey went viral.

The bookmakers urgently adjusted the odds, with Barcelona's odds of winning plummeting from 1.45 to 1.12, but the special betting item of "Song Wen scores + Atletico Madrid loses" attracted 3000 million euros in bets.

Under pressure from all sides, Barcelona finally responded.

Barcelona sports director Abidal held an emergency press conference two hours after Song Wen's press conference, with a large screen behind him playing highlights of Messi's five Golden Balls.

"Some of the comments made by some clowns," sneered the former Barcelona defender, "are like trying to burn down the pyramids with a lighter."

The club’s official Twitter account simultaneously updated the video: Pique played a clip of Song Wen’s speech on his mobile phone at the training ground, then placed the phone on the penalty spot and kicked it to pieces with a powerful shot.

The caption reads "Jokers are not welcome at Camp Nou."

The video was viewed over 24 million times in 2 hours, and the comment section was flooded with Catalan swear words.

Busquets told reporters: "We will make him cry and crawl out of the Camp Nou on Saturday!"

He specifically showed his phone screensaver - a screenshot of the score of Barcelona 2016-2 Atletico Madrid in the 1 Champions League.

Suarez even wrote "10-0" on the football with a marker during the Instagram live broadcast, grinning at the camera, showing his sharp teeth: "This is the score prediction for the Chinese kid!"

Messi, another focal figure in this incident, has never responded publicly, but "Mundo Deportivo" photographed him practicing free kicks until late at night during training.

In the video, Messi kicked the ball into the same dead corner seven times in a row, and the dull sound of the ball hitting the crossbar was like a war drum.

Barcelona fans created the #SongOutOfFootball topic on Twitter, photoshopping Song Wen's face into a clown, which has been played over 5000 million times.

Fans in the south stand of Camp Nou made "Song Wen Crying" T-shirts, and 10 pieces were sold out in 3 minutes of pre-sale.

TikTok's popular challenge: Fans imitated Song Wen's speech at a press conference and fell into a trash can, with the tag #TrashTalk receiving over 100 million hits.

Not only Barcelona fans, but Atletico Madrid fans also went completely crazy.

Among Atletico Madrid fans, there is a split into two factions: pro-Song and anti-Song.

In the eyes of Song's fans, Song Wen's remarks are in line with the fearless momentum of their iron-blooded Atletico Madrid. They want to destroy everything, even when facing a seemingly invincible enemy like Barcelona.

The anti-Song fans directly launched a joint protest, demanding that the club punish Song Wen.

"We don't need grandstanding clowns!"

This petition received 300,000 signatures in just 72 hours.

Seeing that Song Wen was in a difficult situation under the attacks of various fans, at the critical moment, an expeditionary force from England suddenly airdropped.

These fans who came from Ipswich showed unparalleled fighting ability.

It is rumored that they directly booked the third tier of the Nou Camp stands and even made a giant banner.

"The old king is dead, and the new king must be established!"

As the match day between the two sides draws closer, the conflicts between the fans of both sides begin to shift from the Internet to reality.

As Atletico's bus pulled into Barcelona, ​​large-scale clashes broke out in the central streets of Barcelona.

Three hundred fans surrounded Atletico Madrid's bus and burned a coffin model with Song Wen's number printed on it in the street.

The police used high-pressure water cannons to disperse the crowd and ultimately symbolically arrested seventeen people.

In Madrid, extreme Atletico Madrid fans took paint buckets and painted one side of the Camp Nou wall into Atletico Madrid's red and white stripes, leaving slogans:

"The tyrant from the East is coming!"

Faced with such a crazy scene, CNN's headline directly used "Football World War III".

In this article, the most eye-catching thing is the composite photo of Song Wen and Messi looking at each other, with the Great Wall and the Pampas Eagle reflected in their eyes respectively.

Japan's NHK produced a special program "Asian Assassins", comparing Song Wen to the famous Warring States general Oda Nobunaga.

The most outrageous one is the Times of India, which replaced Shiva and Brahma with Messi and Song Wen’s faces on the front page, with the headline “Battle of Football Gods”.

Under the attention of countless fans around the world, there are only three hours left before the match between Atletico Madrid and Barcelona begins!
Camp Nou.

All Atletico Madrid players have arrived on the field.

Just stepping onto the grass of the Camp Nou stadium will bring back bad memories to the minds of Atletico players.

For this group of Atletico Madrid players, most of them have never brought back victory at the Camp Nou.

Atletico Madrid players are currently doing some casual warm-ups.

Compared with the warm-up before the game, the current warm-up is nothing more than letting the players get familiar with the environment of the stadium.

"Hey!"

Godin yelled.

The ball hit Juanfran's head with a bang.

"Juanfran, what are you daydreaming about? This is the third time! Is your head made of iron?"

Juanfran rubbed his head, looking a little dazed.

"Oh, sorry... maybe I didn't sleep well last night."

He sighed, and suddenly noticed a pair of eyes staring at him not far away.

Juanfran turned his head and met Song Wen's scrutinizing gaze.

He felt hairy all over and a little uncomfortable when being stared at, and said:

"I'm going to use the bathroom."

Then he quickly left the court.

"He seems a little off today."

Diego Costa came closer.

Through the dunks in the last game, Costa has already regarded Song Wen as his best friend.

What striker can resist a midfielder who puts the ball in your mouth?

After hearing Costa's words, Song Wen thought for a while and said nothing.

On the other side, Juanfran had already walked into the player tunnel.

He did not go to the toilet, but came to the empty dressing room and stared at his closet in a daze.

As Atletico Madrid's main right-back, Juanfran has played for Atletico for nine years.

The locker-room tiles were oozing with chill, and the metal buckles of Juanfran's sports bag rang with a resounding clang as he slung it onto the bench.

The phone lit up for a third time in the locker, the blue light blinding the empty room like a surgical light.

"Have you thought about it?" This was the only sentence in the message column.

Juanfran rubbed his thumb over the calloused edges of the screen; he could hear the scrape of his knuckles against the glass.

Ice flowers are crystallizing on the iron mesh outside the window.

Just now, Simeone was standing on the sidelines watching him passing the ball to his teammates.

The Argentine was wearing a black woolen hat, and the white mist from his breath dyed the lenses like frosted glass, but Juanfran could still feel the scrutinizing eyes behind the lenses.

He also remembered that when Song Wen came to Atletico Madrid with the explosive news of a transfer fee of 200 million, the number in his salary column was 40% less than last season.

Juanfran stared at the "Loyalty Bonus" column and laughed out loud.

When he was injured in the Champions League quarter-finals last year, the team doctor held up an MRI film and said, "The meniscus is like a sheepskin torn by a wolf." But now this contract is like an obituary, with "dignified retirement" written in bold font.

Something made a noise deep inside the locker.

"Juan!" Simeone's roar suddenly exploded in his memory.

It was a rainy night at the Bernabeu Stadium. The Argentine pulled at him through his rain-soaked suit, his tie tightening around his neck like a noose: "Do you want to be a martyr or a champion?"

The phone automatically locked its screen, and the black mirror reflected the wrinkles at the corners of Juanfran's eyes.

He suddenly remembered one morning after the winter break when he found the 18-year-old Cork secretly wearing his spikes at the training ground. The boy's frightened eyes were dancing with the same fire that he had in those days, but now it seemed like he was recalling it through the glass window of a museum.

Juanfran sighed.

This thirty-three-year-old body was betraying him, just as the reduction clauses in the contract had betrayed more than a decade.

When the phone vibrated for the third time, Juanfran finally turned on the phone.

He suddenly smelled the grass of the Calderón Stadium in 2014.

Simeone stopped him in the tunnel that day, the edge of the tactics board against his ribs: "Stay, we'll build a monument."

At this moment, the air in the locker room was filled with the smell of disinfectant, mixed with the sour smell of moldy shin guards deep in the lockers.

His fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard for a long time.

Juanfran recalled the scene he saw at the youth training camp yesterday: seven kids in oversized training shirts imitating his sliding tackle, the flying artificial grass debris looking like gold dust in the sunset.

When the message alert sounded for the seventh time, he finally pressed his forehead against the cold locker door.

"No, thank you." The moment the send button was pressed, the locker room password lock suddenly made a beeping sound.

Juanfran saw his own shadow trembling slightly on the tiles, like a plastic bag blown by the wind.

It suddenly started snowing outside the window. The lights on the distant stadium turned into blurry spots of light in the snow, as if all the unfulfilled promises of more than ten years were floating in the air.

Three minutes after replying to the text, Juanfran found himself curled up in the fetal position on the locker room floor, an old injury in his lower back beginning to throb, like a rusty dinner knife scraping against his pelvis.

Juanfran blew on the frosted keys, and his thirty-three-year-old self reflected on the metal surface.

The phone rang again.

"I hope you can seriously consider it. For your life after retirement, we all hate Song Wen, don't we? This is a win-win situation."

Juanfran stared at the new message that popped up, his nails leaving white scratches on the phone case.

Song Wen's Asian face suddenly cracked in his memory.

Three days ago, during a tactical meeting, the Chinese kid put his feet on Diego Godin's locker and said shamelessly: "It's time for the old men to give way."

At that time, Juanfran's shin guards were still stained with mud from the second division, while the carbon fiber soles of Song Wen's custom-made shoes were shiny enough to see through.

"Yes, I really don't like that boy..."

He seemed to be talking to himself, but his mind was recalling what happened late last night.

Juanfran ran into Song Wen doing extra training in the equipment room. Song Wen's sports bandages were stained with blood, and seven empty painkillers were scattered on the floor. The moonlight shone through the blinds, cutting light and dark stripes on his back, like a torn red and white battle robe.

But compared to my love for Atletico - Juanfran's thumb stroked the logo of the Atletico jersey on his chest.

"Old man, what are you doing hiding here?!"

Diego Costa's beast-like roar came from outside the door.

Juanfran responded calmly on his phone.

"Never even think about buying any Atletico Madrid player."

“We never give in!”

He put down his phone, and suddenly felt that his old and frail body had regained the agility of his youth.

"coming!"

Diego Costa looked at Juanfran suspiciously.

"What are you doing?"

Juanfran spread his hands with a look of relief.

"Thinking about how to tear those Catalans apart."

Juanfran's answer stunned Diego Costa.

Diego Costa smiled as he watched the other person walking towards the player tunnel.

"No problem old man! Let's tear those Catalans apart together!"

Above the Nou Camp, the first snow has gradually turned into heavy snow.

Atletico's players have returned to the entrance of the player tunnel to avoid the snowfall.

Only Song Wen was still standing in the center of the court.

When Juanfran walked out of the tunnel, Song Wen turned around and looked at him in the center circle. Under his dyed silver hair, his left eye had a bruise left by the training match.

Juanfran suddenly discovered that the shape of the scar resembled the bear and raspberry on the Madrid city emblem.

Simeone waved at Song Wen.

"Song, come back first. There are still three hours before the game starts."

Griezmann was rubbing his hands and complaining constantly.

"Why is the snow getting heavier? Will the game be postponed?"

Song Wen looked up at the heavy snow above his head, sighed, and blew out a puff of white mist.

He looked at Grealish, who was standing on the side of the Atletico players and seemed a little out of place with them.

This kid came to watch his game again today.

In Grealish's words, he needs to establish good relationships with Atletico Madrid's players as early as possible so that when they come to join him, he can quickly integrate into the team.

"Glarish, isn't Son Heung-min here yet?"

As soon as he finished speaking, another Asian man emerged from the player tunnel.

South Korea’s top player, Son Heung-min.

Under Song Wen's arrangement, the succubus Grealish had already established a good relationship with Son Heung-min.

The three of them often hang out in bars when they have nothing to do. Song Wen teaches Son Heung-min how to play football, and Grealish teaches Son Heung-min how to pick up girls.

We get along very well.

Seeing Son Heung-min coming, Song Wen walked over with a smile.

He stretched out his hand and shook hands with Son Heung-min.

[You have stolen the ability from Son Heung-min - left foot mastery. ]

Having obtained the ability he wanted, Song Wen was beaming with joy.

The reason why he wants to have a good relationship with the top Korean player is because Son Heung-min is his most stable treasure to use when stealing.

Almost eight out of ten times, he was able to steal the shot with his left foot.

In fact, Song Wen also thought about touching Messi before today's game started.

But after thinking about it, I finally gave up.

His name as an oriental wizard is now known throughout the world.

I guess if he went up to touch Messi, Suarez would use his buck teeth to bite him to death on the field.

"It's so cold today. It's almost spring, why is it suddenly snowing again?"

Grealish jumped and muttered a few words.

Song Wen breathed a sigh of relief.

"This snow is used to bury Camp Nou."

Grealish's eyes were full of stars, and he felt emotional as he looked at Song Wen with his hands in his pockets.

"On the road to being cool, Song Wen will always be my mentor."

(End of this chapter)