Chapter 1 Zhang Jun's Choice

After returning to Milan, Zhang Jun didn't go directly to Yang Pan's house. Instead, he parked his car in the parking lot of the Milanello training center.

He returned empty-handed this time, with only a small bag containing a few changes of clothes, driving his Mercedes-McLaren. Everything he had moved out was still in Florence. In fact, if the negotiations went well, he would have to move more things from Milan to Florence. He returned with the firm intention of leaving. If Milan didn't agree, he would resort to a hard line. Of course, nobody wanted that to happen. A falling out wouldn't be pleasant.

He was very familiar with the training center; he hadn't spent half a year there for nothing. After parking, he checked his watch: 5:50 PM. The Milan players should all be in Milan, attending the grand celebration. He hadn't told anyone the specific time of his return, not even Yang Pan or Kaka. He wanted to talk to Ancelotti and Galliani first. He didn't want to be too conspicuous before things became clear.

The receptionist, after learning Zhang Jun's identity, didn't let him through directly but followed protocol, asking, "Do you have an appointment with either of the gentlemen?"

Zhang Jun shook his head. "No, I forgot their numbers."

The receptionist smiled apologetically and said, "I'm very sorry, but both the coach and the chairman have gone to Milan to attend the celebration banquet. They're not at the training center now and can't meet with you."

Zhang Jun was disappointed. He didn't want to attend any celebration banquet because it belonged to the players who had played for Milan. What would a loaned-out player be doing there? Oh well, he'd just have to find another time. "Can I make an appointment now?"

The receptionist nodded. "Of course." Then she looked down and checked their schedules on the computer. "The coach will be available tomorrow at ten AM. I can arrange that for you. The chairman won't have half an hour free until three PM the day after tomorrow. If you'd like, I can book that for you as well."

Zhang Jun nodded, of course he was willing. "No problem, book those times."

"Alright, it's been arranged. We'll notify the gentlemen."

Zhang Jun nodded. "Thank you very much, goodbye."

"You're welcome, take care." The receptionist gave a polite reply. As expected of an AC Milan receptionist, her demeanor was extraordinary.

Zhang Jun walked out, deciding to drive straight back to Yang Pan's house, which was also their old home. He had a key, so he didn't have to worry about getting in.

As he walked to the parking lot and took out his keys to unlock the car, he heard someone calling him. He reflexively turned around and saw Pirlo waving at him with a smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here. I just came back to get something I forgot," Pirlo said, walking over with a smile.

Zhang Jun felt a bit awkward about this meeting. He didn't want to run into any Milan players at this time. He greeted Pirlo somewhat unnaturally, "I... uh, I just came back to find the coach and the chairman." His hands didn't know what to do and waved vaguely in the air, making meaningless gestures.

"They've all gone to the banquet. They're not here."

"Yeah, I found out when I got here."

"Didn't you make an appointment?"

"I forgot. I didn't realize Milan would be holding a celebration today. What a wasted trip, I was just about to go home."

"Home? Aren't you going to the celebration?"

"Me?" Zhang Jun gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I think I'll pass. This championship has nothing to do with me..."

Pirlo interrupted him. "What do you mean 'nothing to do with you'? Didn't you help the team win the mid-season championship in winter? That was very important to our eventual title win. Go on, I think everyone would like to see you."

"See me?" Zhang Jun smiled wryly. "More like 'old enemies meeting, especially provoking,' right?"

Pirlo knew what Zhang Jun was referring to. "That was just a misunderstanding. Pippo isn't a petty person. Let's not mention the past. It's also a good opportunity for you to see the coach and the chairman."

Zhang Jun couldn't bring himself to refuse Pirlo's invitation. After all, their relationship was second only to his with Yang Pan and Kaka. Besides, he wanted to know the Milan higher-ups' opinion as soon as possible, so he nodded in agreement. "Alright, I'll go. Where is it being held?"

"Sforza Castle." Pirlo seemed happy that Zhang Jun was going.

"That's a museum!" Zhang Jun was surprised. Sforza Castle was a major landmark of Milan, built in 1450. It was now a museum, housing many precious cultural relics. Holding a celebration banquet there was the height of luxury in Milan.

"Yes, it's the only place worthy of Milan's status!" Pirlo said with a face full of pride. Zhang Jun had seen that expression on TV yesterday, on Yang Pan's face. Pirlo debuted with Inter Milan, and he was still considered an Inter Milan player when he became famous with the Italian U-21 national team, but now he was a pure AC Milan man.

It had to be said, AC Milan was indeed a very humane team, and most people could find a sense of belonging there. But Zhang Jun was the exception to the "most people"; he had never been able to find a sense of belonging in Milan.

"Alright, lead the way."

※※※

As the car passed through Piazza del Duomo in the center of Milan, Zhang Jun saw many, many Milan fans gathered in the square. Some of them had climbed onto the statues, tying Milan scarves around them and making the sculptures hold up Milan team flags. Many Milan fans were even sitting on the iron railings around the fountain in the square. People waved team flags and Italian flags, cheering excitedly. The main roads were jammed with cars, with Milan scarves and team flags sticking out. Their way of expressing joy was even more direct: honking their horns as hard as they could. Motorcycles were covered in flags, which fluttered constantly as they drove. Not only the fans in the square, but also people in nearby buildings were holding out Italian flags with the Milan logo.

Cars, motorcycles, and people were all jammed together. Patrol officers and traffic police were maintaining order and directing traffic. But they were all on the outskirts and didn't interfere with the Milan fans' celebrations.

Pirlo signaled to Zhang Jun with the turn signal: we'll take a detour.

Zhang Jun responded with his lights, indicating agreement.

He looked again at the lively Piazza del Duomo. The square celebration he had attended in Florence a week ago had already been crazy enough, but it still couldn't compare to Milan's. It was truly a powerhouse team; the number of fans was so much greater than Florence's.

But he felt neither envy nor jealousy. Because he firmly believed that one day, he would be the protagonist of this kind of celebration, not today's bystander.

Whether it was the celebration in the square or the celebration banquet in a museum or five-star hotel.

When turning, Pirlo didn't forget to honk the horn like other Milan fans. But Zhang Jun did nothing.

※※※

The car stopped near the castle. According to the traffic police's instructions, they had to park the car here and then walk to the castle. Not far away was a red carpet, with red and black Milan team flags on both sides, so there was no need to worry about not finding the way.

They weren't the first to arrive, nor were they the last. The temporary parking lot was already full of cars, and Zhang Jun couldn't count how many there were. As they were parking, more cars were being directed into the parking lot by traffic police. Zhang Jun glanced around but couldn't find Yang Pan's conspicuous red Hummer. As for Kaka's Audi A4, there were too many Audis, and he couldn't immediately tell which one was Kaka's. But he knew that Kaka was always with Yang Pan. If Yang Pan hadn't arrived yet, then Kaka hadn't arrived either.

Walking on the red carpet with Pirlo, Zhang Jun could feel many people looking at him. It wasn't surprising. In an environment where all the male guests were wearing black suits, he was wearing a khaki casual short-sleeved T-shirt and dark blue jeans, which was certainly eye-catching.

It was because Pirlo had dragged him along on the spur of the moment, and he hadn't had any time to prepare.

They stopped at the gate of the castle because someone called them.

Shevchenko saw Pirlo, who was walking on the left side closer to him, first. When he waved to Pirlo, he noticed Zhang Jun beside Pirlo.

He was somewhat surprised to see Zhang Jun, because he hadn't expected Zhang Jun to attend the celebration banquet. In fact, not only him, but many people hadn't expected it. Even Zhang Jun himself hadn't expected it.

But he quickly recovered and greeted Zhang Jun as well. He introduced his wife, Kristen Pazik, to the two of them. Actually, Pirlo didn't need an introduction; it was mainly for Zhang Jun.

Pazik, whose original name was Kristen Pazik, had quietly married Shevchenko the summer before last and changed her name to Shevchenkova Pazik. She was a well-known American model, the cover girl for famous market magazines such as *gQ* and *mAxim*. She was tall, beautiful, and a sex symbol.

But Pazik was dressed much more purely and simply today. Her blonde hair was casually draped over her shoulders. She wore a white low-cut T-shirt with a blue denim jacket on top and a black knee-length skirt and black high heels on the bottom. Compared to Pazik with her bare upper body on the magazine covers, she looked very different.

Pirlo stepped forward and greeted Pazik with a *bise*, symbolically kissing her on the side of the face.

Zhang Jun felt a bit awkward. It wasn't that he was shy, but as far as he knew, this etiquette, which originated in France, was only used between very close friends, and he was clearly not familiar with her.

Pazik, on the other hand, took the initiative to greet Zhang Jun with a *bise*, making Zhang Jun a little nervous and his neck very stiff.

*As expected of a top model, someone who's seen the world,* Zhang Jun thought in his heart, looking at Pazik's smiling face. But he didn't know that at cocktail parties, this etiquette was common whether it was a first meeting or between close friends. He was nervous for nothing.

"You've been doing great in Florence. You became the third-highest scorer in the league in just half a season and helped the team get promoted. So, what are your plans for returning to Milan?" Shevchenko asked a very awkward question, and Zhang Jun didn't know how to answer.

In the end, Zhang Jun decided that if he didn't know how to answer, he wouldn't answer the question and would change the subject. "I don't have any plans yet. Right now, I'm just thinking about the World Cup."

Sure enough, as soon as he heard "World Cup," Shevchenko became interested. "Right! This is your first World Cup, and mine too. What a coincidence, we were actually placed in the same group, and Brazil is also in it. It looks like we'll have to fight for the other qualifying spot."

Zhang Jun was relieved that he didn't mention Milan. "That's a bit cruel, only one of us can stay..."

"Oh no," Shevchenko interrupted Zhang Jun. "Maybe we can team up and take down Brazil." He was joking. It was clear that he was very excited and happy to be appearing in the World Cup for the first time.

Zhang Jun smiled. "It's best not to let Kaka, Dida, and Cafu hear that."

Shevchenko laughed heartily. He took Pazik's hand and said to Zhang Jun and Pirlo, "Let's go, let's go inside."

※※※

The gray-brown walls of Sforza Castle were covered with traces of hundreds of years of wind and rain, which could easily be found on many ancient buildings with centuries of history in Milan. The setting sun painted the castle with a warm yellow color, while the areas not touched by the sunlight were a huge black shadow. The entire castle looked like black bread smeared with butter.

More people had gathered in the castle's courtyard. Zhang Jun didn't recognize most of them, because they didn't look like they played soccer. Pirlo introduced him to them, saying that most of these people were club members who had been invited to attend, representatives of sponsors, and some political officials. With Berlusconi's influence, nearly a thousand guests from all walks of life had been invited to the banquet.

Zhang Jun clicked his tongue. After Florence was successfully promoted, only fewer than four hundred guests were invited to attend the city government banquet, and the venue was only in the garden behind the city hall. Whether it was the scale or the grandeur, it was worlds apart from Milan's celebration banquet.

Following the guidance of the red carpet, Zhang Jun entered a wing next to the main building of the castle. This wing was in the shadow of the main building and looked inconspicuous, but when Zhang Jun walked in, he found that it was actually quite different.

This was a large hall that was entirely decorated in white. The walls, ceiling, floor, stage, tables, and chairs... were all white, showing Milan's nobility and elegance. Behind the stage were two large-screen plasma TVs, and on the wall facing the entrance was the Milan team logo, with *A.C.milan* written next to it in an artistic font.

Many people were already sitting in the hall, and waiters in white clothes and white pants, wearing white gloves, moved through the crowd, creating a busy scene.

Pirlo and Shevchenko were busy greeting other people. Zhang Jun wasn't used to this kind of scene, so he shrunk into a corner by himself, standing against the wall and watching the people coming and going. Kaka and Yang Pan still hadn't arrived.

He raised his hand and checked his watch. It was almost seven o'clock. Pirlo had said that the banquet would officially start at eight o'clock. Maybe those two guys would arrive right on time, or maybe... they were still waiting for him at home?

Just as Zhang Jun was letting his imagination run wild, he suddenly saw Coach Ancelotti. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go up and explain his intentions. In the end, he decided to go, because that was the purpose of his attending this banquet.

Ancelotti obviously hadn't expected Zhang Jun to come to this banquet uninvited, so when he clearly saw that the person standing in front of him was Zhang Jun, he was really surprised.

"Uh, I'd like to talk to you, sir. Do you have time right now?" Zhang Jun went straight to the point. He didn't want to waste time; it wouldn't be good to be seen by too many people.

Ancelotti looked at Zhang Jun and then nodded. "Alright, let's talk outside."

※※※

By "outside," he actually meant a small lounge on the other side of the hall. There was no one else here, which was a good environment for a private chat. Once the door was closed, there was no need to worry about someone suddenly barging in.

After sitting down on the sofa in the lounge, Coach Ancelotti spoke first. "I've also been wanting to find an opportunity to talk to you. I think there are some misunderstandings between us, but they're not as exaggerated as the media says. We need to communicate."

Zhang Jun nodded. He didn't know whether he should be more proactive, relaxed, and casual, or more serious and earnest.

"So, you should know the general situation now, right? Milan has already won the league championship. Our goal for next season will still be the league championship and the Champions League championship. In addition, we don't want to give up the Italian Cup easily. This requires fighting on multiple fronts, but we don't have enough forwards. I still hope you'll come back. We need you. I've also watched the videos of your games in Florence. I'm very happy that you've regained your form. Milan still has a place for you."

Zhang Jun didn't know how much truth there was in what Ancelotti was saying. He never read the news, so he didn't know that Ancelotti had indeed told reporters, including Chinese reporters, that he hoped Zhang Jun would return to Milan. Now that he had Florence as his capital and the third place on the Serie B scorer list, with twenty-one goals in half a season, as his bargaining chip, he could negotiate terms with Ancelotti.

"Can the team guarantee me a starting position?" he asked. The information contained in this question was very clear: if he didn't start, he would leave.

This caused Ancelotti to fall into a period of contemplation. Zhang Jun didn't disturb him, waiting for an answer with an indifferent attitude. Even if Ancelotti refused, he wouldn't lose anything, because he was eager for Ancelotti to refuse, so he had made a somewhat excessive demand.

Sure enough, as he had expected, Ancelotti frowned and considered for a while, then gently shook his head and said, "That's impossible, Zhang. You know that Pippo has been in very good form for the past half season. He's also an important reason why we were able to win the league championship. I don't want to deceive you with beautiful lies, but after you come, if Sheva and Pippo don't have any injuries, you can only be a substitute... But, I can guarantee that you'll be the first substitute on the forward line, and I'll use rotation in some games, so your playing time won't be short."

Ancelotti was an honest man, and he was sincere. Otherwise, he could have nodded and said okay, just to keep Zhang Jun here first.

This time, Zhang Jun knew that Ancelotti was telling the truth, but he was also completely disappointed in his future in Milan. He was already twenty-four years old. With his talent, if he had started playing professional soccer from the beginning, he would have already been a quasi-superstar, like Adriano, like Rooney. But he still had to fight for a starting position, proving himself on the bench while watching time pass by.

He also knew that Sheva and Inzaghi were in good form, and Borriello was definitely no match for him, but was there any point in fighting to be the top dog on the bench? He wasn't sure how long he would have to wait to become a starter in this situation, to not always be living in the shadow of Sheva and Inzaghi. He thought the best and easiest solution was to leave voluntarily.

"Sir, I can't accept this condition. I still have the same requirement: if you can't let me start, I'll leave. In fact, many teams are very interested in me right now. I hope you and the club can understand my situation." Zhang Jun directly stated his intention to leave. He wanted to hear Ancelotti's opinion. If he agreed, they could part on good terms; if he didn't agree, he would resort to a hard line. Zhang Jun secretly clenched his teeth, preparing himself mentally for a falling out.

Ancelotti fell into contemplation once again. He wasn't unfamiliar with Zhang Jun's request to leave, because it had all been foreshadowed. As the coach, he also knew very well that you can't force a melon to be sweet.

When Rivaldo came to Milan, despite having the honor of being a former FIFA World Player of the Year, he couldn't integrate into Milan's tactical system for a long time, and he didn't gain Ancelotti's favor and trust. In the end, he had no choice but to terminate his contract voluntarily after a year and a half and transfer to another team.

Was Rivaldo not as good as any of the players in Milan's current lineup? No, it was just that Rivaldo was naturally suspicious and needed absolute trust in order to repay the team with absolute good form and good results. At Barcelona, he was the undisputed midfield core. It was only because Coach Van Gaal didn't trust him and didn't like him that he was forced to leave Barcelona.

Zhang Jun was very similar to him in that he needed to be a core player to perform well. Ancelotti wasn't stupid. Based on Zhang Jun's completely opposite performances in Milan and Florence, he knew that Zhang Jun was the same type of player as Rivaldo. But he could be the attacking core in Florence, but not in Milan. He wasn't as famous as Sheva and Pippo, nor was he a direct descendant cultivated by Milan's youth team like Paolo. How could he be the core?

Since he couldn't let him be a starter or a core player, should he really let him go?

As the coach, he could of course force Zhang Jun to stay, then let him take a high salary, sit on the bench, and completely ruin a player. But was there any point in doing that? He didn't have any deep hatred for Zhang Jun, so why be so ruthless?

He decided to try his best to persuade Zhang Jun to stay. "Although you'll be a substitute for a while, you can completely become a starter through your own efforts. You certainly have the strength, you just need some opportunities."

Ancelotti's temper was really good. If he had encountered a coach like Ferguson or Van Gaal, the answer would have been concise and clear: "If you don't like it, leave," and there would have been no room for bargaining. It had always been the players who obeyed the coach. When players and coaches had conflicts, it was often the players who left in the end, not the coach. That was why Stam and Beckham left Old Trafford one after another, Rivaldo said goodbye to Camp Nou, and Ronaldo left the Bernabéu.

Zhang Jun shook his head—saying no seemed to be his theme today—and said, "But sir, I can't even wait for one game now. I'm in good form right now. I can't think of any reason for me to be a substitute. And good form needs to be maintained through games. I don't think I can maintain good form by sitting on the bench."

There was some truth to what he said, but for Ancelotti to say "I can't even wait for one game" despite his good intentions was somewhat unreasonable, almost forcing Ancelotti to refuse to keep him in Milan.

That was the effect Zhang Jun wanted. He was forcing Ancelotti to say in person: "Then alright, you can transfer."

Ancelotti was contemplating again—contemplation had also become his main theme today—he was already beginning to weigh whether the loss of keeping Zhang Jun was greater than the loss of letting him go. However, he did have the qualities of an excellent striker, but there were many players with the same level of skill in the world of soccer. Not to mention those far away, but Gilardino, who was frustrated at Juventus this season, and Bojinov, who was still the fourth-highest scorer in the league this season for a small team like Lecce, were both great. If he kept Zhang Jun, however, based on his personality and how he conducted himself, he would become a ticking time bomb in the Milan locker room. This was precisely what Ancelotti was most worried about. Milan had a good reputation among fans for their unity and lack of locker room scandals, but Zhang Jun's arrival had already changed all of this. Just look at his performance last season to understand.

Yang Pan and Kaka were finding it difficult to do their jobs in the team because of him. If this continued, it would be hard to guarantee that the team wouldn't fall apart because of him.

After carefully weighing the pros and cons, Ancelotti decided to give up on Zhang Jun, because the team was far more important than the individual. He had no problem, but he didn't know if Galliani would be willing to let him go. After all, Zhang Jun was someone Galliani had taken a fancy to and had strongly recommended for the team. Now, he was asking to leave after only playing for Milan for half a season, which was truly ironic.

Ancelotti ended his contemplation and sighed to Zhang Jun, "If you insist on leaving Milan, then I won't force you. I'm just a coach and can't interfere with a player's personal wishes. But you need to talk to the chairman about it. I think he might not let you go."

Zhang Jun was relieved to hear the coach's agreement. Ancelotti was indeed a good person, and he didn't want to fall out with him. "Is the chairman available today?" Now only Galliani was left.

"I don't think he'll see you at this banquet today. You'll need to find another time."

"Okay, I've already made an appointment."

Ancelotti got up and left. There were still many people waiting for him outside. When he reached the door, he turned to Zhang Jun and said, "I personally respect your choice, although I don't agree with it. I want to say that you have a lot of potential, but you need to grasp it well. If you ever want to come back to Milan in the future, as long as I'm still the Milan coach, I'll welcome you." He still didn't promise to give Zhang Jun a starting position.

Zhang Jun smiled at Ancelotti. "Thank you."

This was a sincere smile. Through this conversation, he felt that Ancelotti was a very genuine person and not as bad as he had previously thought. Because they hadn't had much contact, he had always felt that he was a bit aloof. Now it seemed that he was a good person. Unfortunately, it was too late to say anything now. His honeymoon with Milan was over, and he had made up his mind to leave.

Ancelotti opened the door and walked out, and the noise from outside rushed in instantly, buzzing in Zhang Jun's ears and making him upset. But fortunately, Ancelotti quickly closed the door again. The room suddenly became quiet. The soundproofing of the door was very good.

Zhang Jun wasn't in a hurry to get up. He relaxed his tense body and nerves, slumped down on the sofa, and raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Although the air conditioning was on, he was still sweating profusely. He was really tired just now, mentally tired.

Ancelotti said that Galliani wouldn't see him today, so his mission for today could be considered complete, and the result wasn't bad. Now he had to consider how to persuade that bald chairman Galliani, who was known for being cunning.

This kind of thing should have been handled by an agent, but Hua-jie was currently in Germany dealing with Anke's affairs, and he couldn't wait any longer, so he had to come himself. But to let a player negotiate with an old fox who had been in the soccer and business circles for many years, to be honest, even if they had a falling out, Zhang Jun wasn't confident that he could achieve his goal.

Oh well, there was no point in thinking about it now. Zhang Jun decided to get up and leave. But at the moment he grasped the door handle, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should continue to stay here and attend this banquet. He had already achieved his only goal, so what was the point of staying? Pirlo said that after the banquet here was over, the whole team would be invited to the C-side nightclub opened by Gattuso, Abbiati, and Brocchi, and the revelry would continue until the early hours of the next morning.

For most of the people on the Milan team, Zhang Jun's relationship with them wasn't as good as his relationship with his Florence teammates. He was the kind of person who could only let go in front of his friends, so he felt a little restrained now, let alone an all-out revelry.

But whether he wanted to participate in the revelry or not, he had to open the door and walk out, right? Zhang Jun shook his head, twisted the handle, and opened the door and walked out.

The noise rushed in again, and the same upsetting feeling, like a slippery snake, crawled all over his body.

Pirlo said that Zhang Jun had helped the team win the mid-season championship, which led to Milan's eventual title win, so even if he hadn't received an invitation, he was qualified to come and should come. Because until now, until he talked to Galliani, he was still a 100% Milan player. But why did Zhang Jun always have the intention of hiding himself in an unknown corner when he looked at the lively scene in front of him?

There was still a wall, a transparent, invisible wall, standing between him and them. Zhang Jun didn't know when this wall had been erected, but it was this wall that prevented him from getting close to these people, from feeling Milan's "warmth like a big family."

Just as Zhang Jun was about to turn around and leave, he saw two people he hadn't expected to see on the road ahead. Or rather, it would be more appropriate to say a couple.

Ilaria D'Amico was holding Inzaghi's arm and greeting the people next to them. The two of them were whispering intimately from time to time. It seemed that the misunderstanding had been resolved and they were very happy.

Zhang Jun breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn't want to meet them at this time, in this occasion, and in this mood. Just as he was looking around for a place to hide, he heard Inzaghi calling him.

To be honest, Inzaghi was also surprised to see Zhang Jun, but he still took the initiative to greet him generously. The different reactions of these two people showed that Inzaghi was a man, while Zhang Jun was still a boy.

Zhang Jun knew he couldn't hide. Who told him his casual, light-colored outfit was so conspicuous among the black suits? He had no choice but to turn around and greet the two of them. He smiled a little awkwardly, but he couldn't see any embarrassment on Inzaghi and Ilaria's faces. Ilaria even took the initiative to greet him with a *bise*, making Zhang Jun's neck stiff again.

Inzaghi spread his hands. "I know there were some misunderstandings between us, but the misunderstandings are over. I don't want to damage our current relationship because of what happened before." Then he extended his hand to Zhang Jun.

Zhang Jun knew that this was Inzaghi's signal to take the initiative to reconcile. In fact, he and Inzaghi only had misunderstandings and competitive relationships on the field. In private, he had never resented Inzaghi. Zhang Jun also extended his hand, and the two shook hands. Ilaria then took two glasses of red wine from a waiter and handed them to the two of them.

They raised their glasses again and then drank.

"We all know about your wonderful performance in Florence. I'm also looking forward to next season."

Inzaghi meant that he was looking forward to Zhang Jun returning to Milan next season and working together to win the treble.

Zhang Jun smiled. "I think so too." What he was thinking was that he was looking forward to the day when he would return to the San Siro as a Florence player next season.

While Zhang Jun and Inzaghi were exchanging pleasantries, Ilaria stood on the side, not saying a word from beginning to end, and greeting the acquaintances who passed by from time to time. She was still wearing a low-cut dress and looked no different from half a year ago.

Zhang Jun didn't take the initiative to ask her how she was doing, because even if a man was generous, he would still feel a little upset seeing his woman talking and laughing with another man. Zhang Jun was trying to avoid suspicion.

After seeing Inzaghi and Ilaria off, Zhang Jun looked at the red wine in his hand that he had only taken a small sip of. Just as a waiter passed by, he put the glass back on the tray.

When he looked up again, he saw Kaka and Yang Pan at a glance.

He was stunned for a moment, but he still went up to say hello. Now that he had seen them, how could he avoid them? Although he felt guilty towards Kaka, they were friends of many years, and it would be too unkind to leave without even saying hello.

Zhang Jun's decision not to turn around and leave was correct, because Yang Pan had already seen him. If he didn't come up to say hello, he would be in big trouble when he got back. It was still the same reason, who told him his khaki T-shirt was too conspicuous?

"You little brat actually knew to come? Yang Pan and I waited at home for half the day." They were indeed waiting anxiously at home. "You only said you were coming back today, but you didn't say what time. So you ran straight here to attend the celebration banquet?" Kaka thought Zhang Jun was here to attend the celebration banquet, which made him very happy.

To his surprise, Zhang Jun shook his head. "I just came to find Ancelotti, talk to him, and I'm planning to go home now."

The smile on Kaka's face disappeared immediately. "Why? Wouldn't it be better for us to have some fun together?"

Zhang Jun shrugged. "I'm too tired today. I came straight here from Florence, and I'm about to pass out. I know you guys are going to Gattuso's nightclub and partying until dawn, right? In my current state, I'd be asleep long ago."

Kaka was about to say something, but a woman in a snow-white, off-the-shoulder dress came over and asked him for an autograph. Kaka immediately smiled, took the paper and pen, and signed for her. After signing, he handed them to Yang Pan, who also signed. After Yang Pan signed, the woman didn't even glance at Zhang Jun next to them, said thank you to the two of them, and went to find other Milan players.

Zhang Jun smiled wryly in his heart. For many people here, they didn't recognize him, didn't know who he was, and treated him as if he didn't exist. Although he didn't care too much, it still showed his awkward situation in Milan.

Interrupted by the woman, Kaka didn't know how to continue. Yang Pan stood on the side without saying anything. He knew that he could ask anything when they got back, there was no rush. Seeing that neither of them was speaking, Zhang Jun decided to say goodbye for now, call Sophie when he got home, and then take a shower and go to sleep.

"Then have fun, I have to go back first, go to sleep. I can't even keep my eyes open, I don't want to crash into a tree while driving."

Yang Pan reached out and gently hit Zhang Jun. "Don't say such unlucky things!" This was the first thing he had said to Zhang Jun since they met today.

Zhang Jun smiled, then waved to the two of them and turned to walk out.

People had already taken their seats, and Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi was preparing to go on stage and give a congratulatory speech. Zhang Jun glanced back. Yang Pan and Kaka had also found a place to sit down. He didn't see that bald fatty, maybe he was meeting with a sponsor or politician.

Although Berlusconi had resigned from his position as chairman of AC Milan under public pressure, with Galliani taking over as chairman, the largest shareholder of Milan was still him. Everyone knew very well that AC Milan was still his team and that many decisions needed to be made by him. That was why Ancelotti still didn't dare to use his preferred and more effective single-striker, Christmas tree formation, because Milan's emperor Berlusconi didn't like it.

So Berlusconi was still the first to give a speech at this celebration banquet.

Zhang Jun wasn't interested in this kind of leadership speech. He turned his head and continued to walk out. But at the door, he was stopped by an old man. "Waiter."

Zhang Jun didn't think that the word "waiter" was calling him at first, but the old man directly grabbed his clothes, which made him react. He wasn't angry either. He stopped and leaned over to the man and said in English, "Sir, is there anything I can do for you?" He spoke in a genuine London Oxford accent, which was very impressive.

The old man looked up at Zhang Jun, seemingly wondering why there was a British waiter at this banquet. The light was dim near the door, and he couldn't tell who the person in front of him was. In