Seeing the odd look in Chen Yu’s eyes, Mendes quickly shook his head. "Of course it’s not me. I couldn’t possibly come up with that much money. I’m just the middleman."
After a brief pause, he continued, "Dr. Chen, are you familiar with Mr. Abramovich? Last summer, he spent 130 million pounds sterling to acquire Chelsea."
Chen Yu held up a hand to stop him.
Chen Yu already knew all about it, of course. Chelsea had been drowning in debt and had no choice but to sell the club.
Then Abramovich, the mega-rich tycoon, had suddenly entered the picture, spending a fortune to complete the acquisition.
"You’re not about to tell me that Abramovich wants to recruit me as his team doctor, are you?"
He had mentioned a 20 million salary and then brought up Chelsea. His intentions were perfectly clear. How could Chen Yu not guess what was coming?
Mendes smiled and nodded. "Exactly. Mr. Abramovich’s exact words were, ’Instead of buying another top star, it’s more important to secure the team’s support infrastructure.’ He wants to build Chelsea into the best football club in the world, which means he needs the best team doctor in the world—and that’s you, Dr. Chen."
Chen Yu shook his head to himself.
’Twenty million US dollars a year. The man really is loaded.’
Florentino’s offer of a ten-million-a-year salary and a villa had already shattered the expectations of the media. This guy, though, went even further, offering twenty million a year right off the bat.
In terms of annual salary alone, this would probably be the highest in the world of football.
For a fleeting moment, Chen Yu was actually tempted.
But only for a moment.
Now that he was running his own company, Chen Yu’s income was no lower than that.
If he became a full-time team doctor, constantly traveling with the team, he couldn’t just abandon his businesses, could he?
"Sorry, I’m not interested." Chen Yu didn’t hesitate, rejecting the offer outright.
Mendes was stunned. He thought a twenty-million-dollar salary was already an unbelievable offer, and he never expected Chen Yu to turn it down.
"No problem, Dr. Chen. I was just delivering the message. Mr. Abramovich will visit you in person to discuss it further. For now, let’s go check on Cristiano’s foot. The poor kid, getting injured by his own teammate."
Chen Yu nodded and entered the examination room.
He wasn’t very interested in being a team doctor again, but a partnership was definitely on the table.
A boss that extravagant would certainly be willing to spend money to upgrade the team’s training and medical facilities.
’Or maybe,’ he thought, ’he could offer me some shares in the club.’
Chen Yu was definitely interested in becoming a team owner.
But just like with NBA teams, you couldn’t buy a top-tier club just because you wanted to. It all came down to opportunity.
And if he became a minority owner, Chen Yu would certainly show some favoritism toward his own team.
Just a couple of days ago, Brian had been talking to him about a prospect training camp.
The Suns didn’t have a first-round pick this year; it had been sent to the Hornets as part of the David West trade.
But if a rookie with outstanding potential—a real steal—became available, Brian would definitely make a move.
If they didn’t have a first-round pick, they would just trade for one.
So if he discovered a player like that at the camp, Chen Yu would certainly find a way to get him to the Suns.
Cristiano Ronaldo’s injury wasn’t serious. It didn’t even require surgery. Manchester United’s own medical staff could have handled it without any risk of long-term complications.
But since he was here, Chen Yu wasn’t about to turn him away. He had Cristiano Ronaldo admitted to stay and recover.
「April 7th, 7:00 PM local time in France. Louis II Stadium.」
The stadium, located right on the border of the Principality of Monaco—where one powerful kick could accidentally send the ball across the national border—was already surrounded by Monaco fans.
The stadium was too small, forcing large crowds of ticketless fans to linger outside.
At the pre-match press conference, however, Monaco’s head coach, Deschamps, suddenly launched an attack, loudly accusing Real Madrid of violating the principles of fair play in front of the assembled reporters.
His words were like a stone tossed into a calm lake, creating a thousand ripples. The reporters below perked up instantly, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Last week, Figo injured his right foot in a collision with a teammate during training. Real Madrid’s official report said he would be out for two weeks, returning on April 12th. And now? He’s coming back five days early, and he’s in the starting lineup."
"Then there’s Sergado. The media was reporting that he had a tight back muscle and would likely miss the match. And the result? He took part in the pre-match training session, his back is completely healed, and he’s confirmed to start."
After losing the first leg 4-2, Deschamps still held out hope for a comeback, thanks to their two away goals.
After all, Beckham was suspended, Figo and Sergado were carrying injuries, and Raul had just played a match for the National Team last week on top of shooting a commercial for the Euros. He had to be exhausted.
So Monaco still had a fighting chance.
And what happened? Both Figo and Sergado were now perfectly fit and ready to start.
"Why did this happen? It’s because they brought Dr. Chen with them at the last minute. It’s cheating!"
Deschamps slammed his hand on the table, his voice sharp with accusation.
"Of course, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with Dr. Chen. The problem is with Real Madrid and with Queiroz!"
He quickly added a clarification.
He wouldn’t dare suggest Chen Yu was at fault. Not only did coaches from all over the world seek Chen Yu’s help, but he was also a High-Level official at FIFA. How could he possibly dare to speak ill of him?
The reporters below exchanged glances. Some of them were starting to understand what Deschamps was getting at.
Deschamps continued, "Everyone knows Dr. Chen possesses incredible medical skills, especially when it comes to maintaining a player’s physical condition. He’s extraordinarily good at it. I assume you’ve all followed the news from the NBA, so I won’t elaborate."
Many of the reporters nodded knowingly.
To put it simply, they were thinking of the incident in the NBA, where a coach had accused Chen Yu of cheating by helping the Suns recover their stamina.
"I can only assume that with Dr. Chen’s help, the entire Real Madrid squad is not only fully healthy but also in peak physical condition. And us? We’ve endured a long league season, and our players are exhausted. How can a match under these circumstances possibly be fair?" Deschamps continued his barrage.
He didn’t dare say much more about Chen Yu, so he kept his attacks focused on Real Madrid.
The protests from numerous NBA teams had ultimately gone nowhere. But when Chen Yu subsequently announced he was leaving his position to become an owner of the Suns, many in the media speculated that was the real reason for his departure.
But since none of the parties involved had ever publicly confirmed it, it all remained media speculation. Deschamps wasn’t about to make any public declarations himself.
"Of course, I’m not saying any of this to change the outcome. The match is about to start; what could I possibly change now? I just want to tell everyone that this isn’t fair. Real Madrid cheated!"
The reporters below exchanged another round of glances.
By this point, the reporters present had more or less figured out Deschamps’s strategy.
Accusing Real Madrid of cheating was one thing, but the key point was that the accusation was pointless.
Just as he himself had said, the match was about to begin. It was too late to lodge a formal complaint. The game couldn’t be postponed just because of his words.
’As for getting Dr. Chen’s help, well, that’s just a matter of not having the right connections,’ the reporters thought.
Most of the reporters concluded that Deschamps had only one reason for making this accusation now: to preemptively manage the expectations of the Monaco fans. If they lost, he could openly tell everyone, "See? It’s not that we couldn’t beat Real Madrid. It’s because they cheated. We lost, but it wasn’t a fair fight."
Meanwhile, Chen Yu was in the Real Madrid locker room, talking with Ronaldo and the others.
They were all familiar with each other, so the conversation flowed easily.
"Like I said, this will benefit you players as well," Chen Yu said, looking at Beckham and the others.
The players exchanged a look and nodded in agreement.
Zidane said, "Don’t worry, Chen. I know what to do."
The others nodded as well.
Chen Yu thanked them.
It was about the health certificate initiative again. Progress on that front had been far too slow.
Since the clubs and the Football Association were just dragging their feet and giving him the runaround, Chen Yu had to find another approach. He hoped that getting some influential players to speak out would put pressure on the clubs and the FA, generate public interest, and finally make it happen.
If the initiative could be implemented, it would be a huge benefit for the players.
As they were talking, Queiroz burst through the door and immediately kicked over a folding chair in front of him.
The players in the locker room stared at each other in shock, wondering why Queiroz had lost his composure so dramatically.
"Chen, a word," Queiroz said without any explanation. He led Chen Yu out of the locker room and told him about Deschamps’s accusation.
Chen Yu silently rolled his eyes.
’Deschamps has some nerve,’ Chen Yu thought. ’Who was it that treated Jouli’s groin strain at the beginning of last year?’
"Did he really say all that?" Chen Yu asked, looking at Queiroz skeptically. The way Queiroz told it, Deschamps’s words had been extremely harsh.
’But surely not,’ he thought. ’No matter how angry or impulsive Deschamps got, he wouldn’t direct his attacks at me or say anything negative. If he bad-mouthed me, he wouldn’t be able to come to me for help the next time one of his players got injured.’
He figured Deschamps had probably just railed against Real Madrid, and Queiroz was embellishing the story.
"He really did," Queiroz insisted, though his eyes darted away, betraying a hint of guilt.
Chen Yu thought for a moment. "If he wants to file a complaint, let him take it to FIFA. As for the match, I’ll be watching from a private box. As it happens, Mr. Simeone will be there too."
He was referring to Simeone, the president of the French Football Federation.
"What about at halftime?" Queiroz asked tentatively.
Chen Yu smiled. "Don’t worry. Ronnie and the others are perfectly healthy."
Before the match, Queiroz had already spoken to him, asking if Chen Yu could "lend a hand" during halftime.
The implication was obvious.
Chen Yu hadn’t agreed at the time. He felt it was inappropriate and wanted to avoid giving anyone reason to criticize him.
Now, with Deschamps’s public accusation, there was no way Chen Yu would agree.
"You’re already ahead 4-2 on aggregate. You’re not actually worried about getting knocked out, are you?"
Chen Yu just smiled, said no more, and turned to head for the private box.
He felt Queiroz was making a mountain out of a molehill.
’He was holding a royal flush, yet he was scared of his opponent’s handful of random cards.’

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