Football: What Happened To Going To The Nightclub? I Have To Score

In the Champions League final, a red card had been shown, and while the referee faced immense pressure, he stood firm and sent Ajar off.

The decision was final, regardless of the controversy surrounding it—Chelsea now had to play with one fewer player.

Conte, initially furious, realized he needed to keep his composure as the team's coach.

"Should we change tactics?" asked Chelsea's assistant coach, Holland, carefully.

Ajar had been crucial in defending on the wing, an essential part of their high-press system. With one player down, things were going to get much harder.

Conte, eyes fixed on the field, shook his head slightly.

"No, let's stick with this until halftime. We'll adjust then."

He signaled to Azpilicueta, Chelsea's captain on the pitch.

"Park the bus! Focus on intense defense!"

With only 10 men, there was little else to do.

Ajar, who had been sent off, walked off the field in a daze, only now fully realizing the weight of his actions.

He felt a surge of regret. The foul on Casemiro had been a moment of revenge, something uncharacteristic of him.

"I'm not usually like this," he muttered to himself.

Why now? Why in the final? At such a crucial moment?

If Chelsea lost the championship, he would be the one blamed by the entire team.

As he walked past the Big Ear Cup—the Champions League trophy—he stole a glance.

So close, yet now it seemed to be slipping away, unreachable.

"Eden," came a voice behind him.

It was Conte, gently patting Ajar's shoulder without an ounce of blame in his eyes.

"Go to the locker room, get some rest, and take a shower," Conte said.

"Coach... I..." Ajar's voice wavered, guilt heavy in his heart.

"Don't worry. Trust him."

Everyone knew who Conte meant by "him."

Even Ajar, though he didn't want to admit it, realized that all hope now rested on Su Luo.

At that moment, he felt an odd sense of relief. Instead of sulking in guilt or trying to escape from Su Luo's shadow, it was better to work hard and try to catch up with him. For now, only Su Luo could save Chelsea.

On the field, Su Luo, wearing the blue number 7, was fully focused, running tirelessly.

In the stands, countless Chelsea fans were praying, hoping that Su Luo could lead the team through the relentless pressure from Real Madrid.

"Chelsea is down to 10 men, and they're under massive pressure," the commentator shouted. "Real Madrid is bombarding their goal in these last few minutes of the first half!"

"Another chance! Modric breaks forward!"

"Chelsea's defense is stretched! Bale is charging in!"

"Bale with a left-footed cross!"

"Ronaldo's header! Oh! That was dangerous, but Courtois pulls off a fantastic save!"

"Real Madrid corner—Ramos rises!"

"The header is just over! Real Madrid almost equalized!"

The last few minutes of the half had Chelsea fans on edge. It felt like Real Madrid could score at any moment.

With 11 players, Chelsea had been in control. Now, with one player down, they were being overrun.

Their counterattacks couldn't even get started, as both Su Luo and Lukaku were forced to track back and help with defense.

Under mounting pressure, Chelsea's center-back, David Luiz, fouled Benzema just outside the box and received a yellow card.

Real Madrid was just one mistake away from scoring.

Finally, the referee blew the halftime whistle.

The Chelsea players sighed in relief—it had been five minutes of hell.

But Real Madrid's players were unsatisfied.

"Damn, we almost had them!" Marcelo cursed.

"Don't worry," Ronaldo said, covering his head with his hand. "We'll overtake them in the second half."

Now that Chelsea was a man down, Ronaldo felt more confident. If they couldn't win in this situation, he wouldn't deserve to wear Real Madrid's iconic number 7.

"Su Luo, I'm sorry, but today, we're winning this trophy," Ronaldo thought. "I'm going to prove that the world's number one is neither you nor Messi!"

In Chelsea's locker room, Ajar was filled with guilt as he apologized to his teammates.

"I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry, everyone..."

His teammates exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond.

"It's not your fault, Eden. It was the referee's call," said the old captain, Terry, trying to comfort him.

"Exactly," another player chimed in. "That dog of a referee must've taken a bribe!"

"UEFA's always had it out for us," another player muttered. "They always favor those Spanish teams..."

Chelsea's locker room was filled with frustration, but Conte walked in, his face stern.

"Alright, enough. No matter what decisions the referee makes, we can't lose our focus on the field!"

"I hope Eden's situation serves as a reminder to all of you."

"But remember, we're only down one player—it's not the end of the world. We can still win this!"

Conte's calmness had a soothing effect on the players, who gradually began to regain their composure.

Watching this, Su Luo breathed a sigh of relief. His biggest fear had been the team losing their cool and falling apart.

As long as his teammates kept their heads, Su Luo knew he could win this championship.

"Run! Keep running!" Conte urged them. "In the second half, you'll need to cover more ground than ever. Find the spaces, and trust Su Luo to make the right decisions in attack."

"When defending, rush back! Even if the world ends in the next second, get back into position first!"

Then Conte turned to Su Luo.

"Sue," he said, looking directly at him. "You're going to have to do most of this yourself. Romelu will help with positioning, but the final move has to come from you."

"If you're confident, go for it. Don't worry, the whole team believes in you."

Conte was essentially giving Su Luo full control of the game.

With Ajar out, both wingbacks would need to stay back, and Lukaku, tied up in the penalty box, could only assist.

Su Luo, with his free movement, was the key to scoring.

The Chelsea players nodded in agreement, showing their faith in Su Luo.

In the second half, Chelsea knew they might face an even more intense onslaught. Real Madrid could score at any moment—or worse, take the lead. If the situation became desperate, there was only one person the team trusted: Su Luo.

He would lead them to victory.

"Got it," Su Luo nodded, his calm demeanor reassuring his teammates. He looked as steady as ever, like a veteran who had seen it all.

"We expected Real Madrid to come out strong in the second half, but none of us expected them to equalize within the first three minutes!" the commentator, Zhan Jun, said, frustrated.

Real Madrid wasted no time after the second half kicked off. They launched a fierce attack on Chelsea's defense, pushing forward relentlessly. Marcelo and Carvajal played more like wingers, joining the offensive.

Chelsea's entire squad was pulled back into the penalty area, hoping to clog the space with sheer numbers.

But when you're up against superstars, that strategy only works for so long.

Casemiro, Toni Kroos, and Modric controlled the midfield, while Ronaldo, Bale, Marcelo, and Carvajal relentlessly exploited the wings. One moment they attacked from the left, the next from the right.

With all the pressure, gaps began to open up in Chelsea's defense.

Bale, receiving the ball on the right, drew two defenders. But instead of pushing forward, he passed it back to Modric. Without even looking up, Modric delivered a pinpoint diagonal cross into the box.

The ball flew fast and low, and Chelsea's defenders didn't have time to react. A white figure soared above them.

It was Ronaldo, leaping impossibly high, hanging in the air like a trapeze artist. With a powerful header, he sent the ball over David Luiz, curving it just enough to arc past Courtois' fingertips into the far corner of the net.

"Gooooooal!" The Spanish commentator's voice thundered across the stadium.

"Cristiano... Rooooonaldo!" He dragged out the celebration for a full 40 seconds.

"In the Champions League final, Ronaldo pulls off another signature header!"

"The chemistry between Modric and Ronaldo is unmatched, and Ronaldo's ability is just incredible. What a goal!"

"Real Madrid equalizes!"

Both teams were back to square one.

Ronaldo sprinted toward the stands, celebrating with his iconic "Siu!" under the roar of the Real Madrid fans.

Despite Real Madrid's celebration, Chelsea's players didn't let it shake their resolve. They had anticipated this, and their focus remained intact. As long as they didn't concede again, they still had a chance.

They held on for 80 long minutes, waiting for the moment when they could "Trust Su Luo." His incredible scoring efficiency meant that one good chance was all he needed to secure the win.

Chelsea united as a team, and after the restart, they formed an impressive attack.

Kante, showing off his rarely seen passing skills, sliced through Real Madrid's defense with a scalpel-like pass, finding Lukaku up front.

Lukaku, using his strength and size, backed into Ramos, shielding the ball. Despite Ramos' efforts to push him off, Lukaku stood his ground, waiting for Su Luo to join the attack.

As Su Luo sprinted forward, Lukaku smoothly laid the ball off to him.

Su Luo had already spotted Casemiro charging at him. Channeling the finesse of Ronaldinho and the pace of Gareth Bale, he executed a flawless elastico, flicking the ball around Casemiro at high speed.

Casemiro was left stunned, convinced Su Luo would use brute force to power through. Instead, Su Luo displayed finesse beyond belief.

Then came Varane. Su Luo sped past him with ease.

Entering the penalty area, Su Luo decided to shoot from a tight angle, opting for a tricky outside-of-the-boot shot. The execution was nearly perfect. The ball curled beautifully but just missed the far post, clattering off the upright and bouncing away.

On the other side, Carvajal looked terrified. He quickly booted the ball out of bounds, desperate to clear the danger.

"Wow! That was close!" the commentator exclaimed.

"Only Su Luo would dare attempt a shot from such a tight angle!"

"It's a shame, though. Just a bit unlucky—it could've been the winning goal."

The entire stadium rose to its feet in applause. Even the Real Madrid fans couldn't help but appreciate Su Luo's incredible solo effort. It was a moment of brilliance, and the spectators who paid thousands for final tickets knew they had witnessed something special.

On the field, Ronaldo paused for a moment, and miles away, Messi, watching from home, also fell silent.

"Can he still get better?" Both legends thought the same thing at the same time.

For the first time, they began to acknowledge a possibility that had once seemed unthinkable.

This man from China...

He just might surpass them both and become the world's number one.

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