Football: My AI System Provides Max-Level Predictions
Chapter 167 - 141: Eating hot pot on a rainy night, cups clinking together, the sound of dreams bursting forth!

Chapter 167: Chapter 141: Eating hot pot on a rainy night, cups clinking together, the sound of dreams bursting forth!

A professional player’s life, aside from the weekly matches and training, also has its leisure moments.

On Thursday night, Tang Long hosted a gathering.

The venue was an apartment next to the Meazza Stadium.

Tang Long has moved into a new home!

Since his salary was raised to 2 million euros after tax, the club politely suggested he should move out.

After all, Bonazzoli moved out of the dorm after getting a contract with the first team.

Tang Long’s salary was several times that of Bonazzoli’s, and it seemed inappropriate to continue living in the club’s free accommodation.

Without the time to look for a house, Tang Long’s agent Ronar suggested an apartment for him right next to Meazza Stadium.

"Tang, I know you don’t have time to look for a place, just rent this one for now. Italy is different from Spain and the United Kingdom; most people here live in apartments. Villas are located far out, and since you don’t have time to get a driver’s license and no car, living too far out would make it inconvenient for training."

"Molaiton Apartments are great. This unit has three bedrooms and a living room, 120 square meters, with a monthly rent of 5,000 euros. The key point is its excellent location; you can see the Meazza Stadium right from the balcony. It’s fully furnished and ready to move in, with top-notch property management. The neighbors are of high quality, so no one will disturb you."

According to Huaxia’s traditional culture, moving to a new home means inviting friends over to cook together.

Tang Long invited the other two members of their trio, Bonazzoli and Di Marco.

Chiwo also received an invitation.

As their former youth team coach, Chiwo had always taken good care of them in daily life.

Especially towards Tang Long, offering him comprehensive guidance and frequently sharing his years of football experience during training.

With Tang Long recently showing rapid physical improvement, Chiwo could also report back to coach Mancini sooner regarding Tang Long’s physical transformation opportunities.

"Alright, we’ll listen to you; the three of us will go to your place for hotpot!"

It began to drizzle that day.

At the end of March in Milan, the temperature dropped sharply, with gusts of cold wind.

The air was filled with the smell of rust.

Tang Long took out an induction cooker and a pot from the kitchen cabinet, adding water to boil.

He also pulled out authentic Sichuan hotpot base from the fridge and put it in the pot.

Soon, a spicy and fragrant hotpot aroma filled the room.

Chiwo smelled the fragrance and couldn’t help but praise it.

"It smells so good! Just smelling it makes me hungry!"

"Don’t rush, the dishes haven’t been served yet!"

Tang Long took out meatballs, beef rolls, lamb rolls, shrimp paste, tripe, luncheon meat, and other foods from the fridge.

These are common hotpot delicacies in Huaxia cuisine.

He also took out oyster sauce, sesame oil, soy sauce, MSG, vinegar, scallions, garlic, fermented bean curd, sesame paste, leek sauce, and small chili for dipping sauces.

The spacious and clean marble dining table was instantly covered with various dishes and condiments.

With the cold rain and wind outside, staying in and having hotpot was truly delightful.

Chiwo looked at the vibrant and colorful ingredients and condiments on the table, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

"Tang, did you prepare all of this yourself?"

Tang Long waved his hand, "No way, I bought all of it at the Chinese supermarket in Milan. I knew you were coming, so I went shopping last night and stocked the fridge."

Tang Long glanced at the clock on the wall; it was already 6:40 PM.

He called Di Marco:

"Hello! Did you buy the cilantro I asked for? It’s past six, and we’re just waiting for you and Bonazzoli to start eating!"

While Tang Long was busy in the kitchen, he realized he was missing cilantro.

Adding some chopped cilantro leaves to the condiments seemed like a must.

Since Di Marco went out to buy alcohol, he was also asked to pick up some cilantro from the Chinese supermarket.

It had already been nearly an hour, and Bonazzoli was nowhere to be seen.

"We’re here, just downstairs, hurry and open the door!"

Tang Long hung up and opened the door, just as the elevator doors opened and Di Marco and Bonazzoli came out.

Di Marco was carrying a large tub of German dark beer, and Bonazzoli had a big bag of leafy greens.

With the heavy rain outside, both of their shoes were soaked.

"Dammit, this wind is freezing! I went to three Chinese supermarkets to find your cilantro; I grabbed anything that looked similar based on your picture, so there’s no way I got it wrong!"

Bonazzoli placed the groceries and beer on the ground, undid his scarf, and raindrops fell onto the wooden floor.

Chiwo said, "Since you all joined the first team one after another, I haven’t treated you to a meal yet. It’s a good chance to gather everyone together with Tang’s housewarming!"

Perhaps because he had just recently retired, as a young coach in his 30s, Chiwo, now 34, had no airs. He treated Tang Long, Bonazzoli, Di Marco, and the others as good brothers and was quite enthusiastic.

"Haha, I’d say this meal doesn’t count," Di Marco, with his outgoing personality, said unabashedly, "Mr. Chiwo, you have to treat the three of us to a proper meal next week. It can’t be at home; it must be at a restaurant. Bonazzoli just told me on the way that you should book a private room at the most expensive La Perla Restaurant in Milan and get the chef’s custom menu."

Bonazzoli quickly waved his hands nervously, "I didn’t say that, it was him who wanted to eat there!"

Chiwo laughed heartily and pulled both of them close.

"You guys are cheeky, aren’t you? La Perla is a Michelin three-star restaurant, and a chef’s custom menu costs several thousand euros per meal. How about we split the bill?"

Seeing this harmonious atmosphere, Tang Long also smiled knowingly.

However, when he turned his head, he frowned.

Looking at the bag Bonazzoli placed on the ground, filled with leafy greens from the Chinese supermarket, Tang Long searched through it thoroughly.

There were spinach, water spinach, celery, leeks, and even chrysanthemum leaves.

But no cilantro anywhere.

"Bonazzoli, where’s the cilantro I asked you to buy?" Tang Long asked him.

Bonazzoli walked over, scratched his head, and pulled out his phone, opening the cilantro picture Tang Long had sent him.

"Really? I looked at the picture and bought all the vegetables that looked similar, did I buy the wrong ones?"

Realizing he hadn’t bought the right bag of vegetables, Bonazzoli awkwardly spread his hands.

"Oh, then I have no solution!"

"For leafy vegetables, we Italians only eat lettuce and cabbage. Your Huaxia supermarket has too many varieties, all those green things look the same to me, can’t tell them apart!"

...

Outside, the rain fell harder.

The surroundings were a blanket of white, only the sound of the pouring rain could be heard.

The car parked outside the apartment building, belonging to Chiwo, was getting a thorough wash in the rain.

The sky was already darkening, and the distant Meazza Stadium had disappeared into the rainy night.

But inside Tang Long’s luxurious apartment, the lighting was warm and bright.

Chiwo, Tang Long, Bonazzoli, and Di Marco were gathered around a hot pot, enjoying sliced lamb.

Steam rose vigorously from the hot pot, accompanied by bubbling sounds, warming the entire room.

"Satisfying, truly delicious!"

Chiwo had put a lot of small chili peppers in the oil sauce, now sweating profusely from the spice.

He took off his glasses to wipe his sweat, and then took off his sweater, wearing only a long-sleeve shirt.

Bonazzoli wore an Inter training short-sleeve, constantly raising his arms to wipe his sweat.

"It’s killing me, the more I eat, the spicier it gets, the spicier it gets, the more I want to eat. Tang, do you think I have a masochistic tendency?" Bonazzoli hissed while inhaling, then gulped down a big mouthful of ice-cold beer.

Tang Long was simultaneously putting tripe into the pot while scooping up cooked beef and shrimp balls with a slotted spoon, placing them in the group’s plates.

"Come, let’s all raise a glass, it’s been a while since I’ve had a drink. Today, my old teammates from the youth team and old coach are here, so I’ll make an exception this time! Let’s drink together!" suggested Tang Long.

"Alright, cheers!"

"Come on, fill up the glasses!"

Rich and thick German black beer flowed from the spigot on the 7L tin barrel.

A refreshing aroma of malt wafted through the air.

The four of them filled their glasses, white beer foam overflowed from the glass rims, slowly sliding down the edges.

Di Marco was the most enthusiastic, raising his glass high with a look of happiness on his face.

Chiwo, however, pressed his glass very low and said to the group:

"Before we toast, shouldn’t we say a few words?"

"I am the oldest, so I’ll go first."

Tang Long and Bonazzoli lowered their glasses, focusing on Chiwo.

"I’m 34 this year, a third of my life is already over, unlike you all whose youth has just begun."

"This time joining Inter First Team, as an ordinary technical coach, my dream is to one day become the head coach of Inter Milan, and then lead this team to dethrone Juventus, why is it always them winning Serie A! Also, I want to lead Inter back to the top of Europe, just like what Mourinho did in 2010!"

"I still remember when I fractured my skull," Chiwo’s eyes were moist, "how Mr. Moratti told me, he said he would send the best doctors from around the world to treat me, and if I became disabled, he would support me for life! Mr. Moratti is the best chairman in the world, and Inter Milan is the best team in the world!"

Di Marco continued: "I’ve been an Inter fan since I was 8 years old. As a loyal Nerazzurri, my dream is to help Inter win a championship this season!"

"Also," Di Marco paused, "next year is 2016, the European Cup is coming. Our Italy must win the championship! In 2012, we reached the finals and were defeated 0-4 by those damn Spaniards... Next year, we must use this championship to avenge!"

Chiwo was a bit tipsy, his face flushed, he stood up, stretched his hand across the table, pressing down on Di Marco’s beer glass.

"That’s not happening, young man. Next year’s European Cup, the champion will be our Romania. Your Italy won’t have a chance!"

"Hahaha, Mr. Chiwo, let’s see if it’ll be your Romania being strong or our Italy stronger," Di Marco, slightly buzzed, wiggled a little finger in the air, "but your Romania is just at the level of group bottom, better focus on getting past the group stage, otherwise I’m afraid you won’t meet our Italy!"

"Nonsense, say that again," Chiwo, face red, rolled up his sleeves, swung a fist at him, "you know why you were bald at 17, right? Because all the hair went into that foul mouth of yours. You were cocky in the youth team, I’ve been itching to find a chance to beat you up!"

Compared to Chiwo and Di Marco’s grand and distant dreams.

Bonazzoli’s thoughts were simple, the young man also very down-to-earth.

"My dream is to continue playing with Inter First Team next season, don’t send me to some other place on loan, my mom’s legs aren’t good, I want to accompany her for physical therapy in Milan."

Di Marco burped, waved his hand dismissively.

"Bro, can you have some ambition! I keep saying, your dream is to replace Icardi and become the main striker for Inter!"

"Since Vieri, our Inter hasn’t had an Italian-born main forward, this task is assigned to you, kid!"

The three of them looked at Tang Long.

"Tang, what’s your dream, it’s your turn to share."

Tang Long looked at the hot pot, with shrimp dumplings and fish balls bobbing up and down with the boiling broth, like boats riding the tide in a stormy sea.

His heart surged with emotion, his hands resting on the table clenched into fists.

"I have so many dreams, leading Inter to win the Serie A championship, Champions League title, and in the future... I want to win the Golden Ball Award, become the best in the world!"

Tang Long’s ambition was written in his eyes, on his face, in his words.

Chiwo gave the table a solid slap!

"Good kid, not very old, but quite bold! Not bad, great ambition, clear goals!"

Di Marco raised his glass again, "Then, let’s toast to our individual dreams!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Bang!

They had dreams, about football, about championships, about the passion for the whole world.

Now, on this rainy night, the four drank together, as their glasses clinked, the sound was bursting with the echo of dreams!