Chapter 37: First Day in Milan – Reviewing the First Half of the Season
"We don't want Real Madrid's 19-year-old kid! Extend Andrea's (Pirlo's) contract instead!"
"Andrea is already a legend! Why doesn't the club trust him? He's won everything there is to win—why should he have to fight for a starting spot with a teenager?"
"Li Ang isn't here to compete with Andrea. They don't even play the same role. On the contrary, I think Li Ang could be the perfect partner for Andrea."
"What nonsense! That kid from the East is just a holding midfielder. His skillset can't handle anything out wide!"
"Stop arguing! The official website just posted a photo—Li Ang passed his medical!"
"Holy crap, this kid is seriously good-looking!"
As Milan fans argued fiercely over Li Ang's arrival, a single image released on AC Milan's official website—a smiling Li Ang having just passed his medical—immediately captured attention all over Italy.
And in that moment, Milanisti, whether they supported the signing or not, all came to the same conclusion:
"Damn, this kid's handsome!"
Okay, maybe he wasn't quite on peak Kaka's level of prettiness, but his sunny, athletic vibe and solidly built upper body were enough to win over a ton of fans.
Li Ang himself hadn't expected this. He hadn't even played a match yet, and already he had won over a portion of Milan's fanbase—just on appearance alone.
Having finished his medical and checked in at his hotel, he was immediately picked up in a club car and taken to Milanello.
Compared to Valdebebas, Milanello was just as prestigious—maybe even more so. After all, its alternate name was far more famous among fans:
The Milan Sports Centre.
This massive, world-renowned training complex left Li Ang very impressed.
He hadn't even stepped onto the training pitch before asking the staff if he could take a look.
The staffer was a bit stunned. It was lunch time. The players and coaches were all in the cafeteria eating. Even if Li Ang went to the field, no one would be there.
Eventually, they managed to coax the eager "training beast" into the cafeteria instead.
Allegri's original plan had been to let Li Ang eat lunch with the staff, familiarize himself with the facility, and meet the first team after their afternoon session.
That would be Day One. Training would start tomorrow.
But Li Ang?
He had lunch, took a short break, and at 3 p.m. sharp—already changed into training gear—stepped onto the field.
Milan's veteran players exchanged glances.
Allegri could only smile wryly.
He'd heard rumors from Madrid that Li Ang was a notorious training addict, but he hadn't expected Day One to start like this.
"Ah, forget it. Can't crush a kid this hardworking on his first day."
He found an excuse, then simply let Li Ang join the group.
With Ambrosini injured, the temporary captain Gattuso gave a warm signal for the others to welcome the newcomer.
There was no hazing, no hostility. Not even the infamous "alpha" Zlatan made any trouble.
In fact, most of the squad—including Ibrahimović—seemed pretty friendly.
What really shocked the team?
Li Ang's Italian.
A little choppy, but fluent enough to communicate.
"Oh good, I don't have to fish for Spanish vocabulary just to talk to you," Ibrahimović said with a grin.
He'd been debating whether to speak Spanish with Li Ang. Now he didn't have to translate for anyone—Li Ang's Italian was more than sufficient for smooth communication.
Allegri, who'd already had two phone calls with Li Ang before the transfer, clearly knew this already.
He waved a hand. "Start training."
Li Ang fell in beside Ibrahimović and Boateng to begin warming up.
"Your defending is excellent," Ibra started. "After we played you guys in November, Ronaldinho wouldn't stop grumbling in the locker room about how tightly you marked him.
Shame he left. He'd probably enjoy having you as a teammate."
Li Ang just smiled and listened.
Especially on the topic of Ronaldinho—it was best to say nothing.
The Brazilian had just returned to his homeland, the first "chicken" Allegri culled as part of his locker-room overhaul.
Milan might've seemed harmonious now, but behind the scenes, many of the older players weren't thrilled.
Ibrahimović wasn't worried—no matter who came or went, he was still Milan's undisputed No. 9.
But Li Ang had only just arrived. Even if Allegri liked him, he knew better than to speak out of turn.
"You're really strong too, Zlatan. Before we played you, our coach told the midfield and backline to make limiting your impact the top priority.
If you played badly, Milan couldn't generate real danger up front. Luckily, we barely managed to contain you."
He whispered it softly behind Ibra's shoulder.
It wasn't even over-the-top praise, but Zlatan absolutely loved it.
"You see? Mourinho and Madrid's defense all knew I was the threat.
Not Ronaldinho. Not Pato. Me.
Milan's real ace is me!"
Suppressing a smile, Zlatan glanced at the earnest young man beside him.
A good kid. Straightforward. Honest.
"You're too honest~
But hey, keep those compliments between us, yeah?
Don't go repeating them to the rest of the forwards—they might get a little... jealous."
"Of course. By the way, I heard your balance and flexibility are top-notch.
If I ever get the chance... could I ask you for some training tips?"
"Of course! After this session, I'll take you to the weight room for some tests.
If you're free tonight, we'll grab dinner too."
"That would be amazing!"
Training went smoothly.
Li Ang didn't stand out—but he didn't struggle either.
He wasn't familiar with the squad yet, so his performance during the practice match was average overall.
But defensively? Exceptional.
His positioning and intercepting left a strong impression on the veterans.
He didn't talk to Pirlo much today, but Li Ang wasn't bothered. It was only Day One.
And the fact that he'd already hit it off with Ibrahimović, and even scored an invite to dinner?
That alone made the day a win.
After dinner with Ibra, he returned to his hotel and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
From Madrid to Milan, his half-year spell with Real Madrid had come to a close.
Time to review his harvest.
In La Liga, he'd made the 18-man matchday squad 14 times. He started 7, came on as a sub in 7.
That earned him 140 system points.
In the Champions League, he started all 6 group stage matches. Madrid won every single one.
That gave him 180 points.
He also played 3 Copa del Rey matches.
Copa matches awarded half the points of league games—2.5 base points per match, 5 for a win. Same rules applied for subs and losses.
Thankfully, he started all three and Madrid won them all.
That added 22.5 points.
Altogether, including leftover points from earlier, he now had 348.7 points remaining.
Just barely enough to draw a silver-tier talent card or item.
Li Ang stared at the balance.
He shelved the idea of drawing anything for now.
"Shame.
Can't earn points from regular training anymore.
Even a little is better than nothing…"
He muttered, still a bit bitter that the system had cut off training-based point rewards after its last upgrade.
But the frustration didn't last long.
He was in Milan now—for more playing time, more opportunities.
Lying in bed, he raised both hands toward the ceiling and clenched them into fists.
"Points. Minutes. Growth.
I want it all."
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