Chapter 104
Cristiano was going back to Portugal to attend the national team training the next afternoon. They slept until noon, and then they all found a local restaurant in Paris for dinner.
Originally, Giggs suggested having dinner directly in the hotel, but the probability of running into the Juventus group in the hotel restaurant was too high, so Keane refused without thinking.
Unexpectedly, in an open-air restaurant on the street in Paris, they had just ordered their food and were sitting down chatting when they saw Buffon, Piero and others walking down the bridge. They had obviously noticed them and were walking straight towards them.
"Cristiano." Buffon smiled and walked towards Cris, who was sitting on the outside closest to the street. He smiled and leaned over to hug him and kissed his cheek. "Like you said, we are really destined to meet. I didn't expect to see you here again."
Cristiano tilted his head slightly and kissed Buffon on the cheek. He smiled and said, "I thought so too. Where have you been?"
"Walk around, it's so beautiful here, there's music and flowers everywhere, and beautiful people," Buffon replied.
His tone was low and slow, like an ancient viola. When Italians speak, they always gaze at the other person intently and gently, as if the person in front of them is the most unique. If it were any other young man, his face and neck would probably turn red at this moment.
But Cristiano was used to the Italians' tricks. He nodded and said casually: "That's great. It looks like you had a good night."
Keane and Ferdinand sat on the sidelines, enduring the close proximity of the Juventus goalkeeper. After all, the boss was sitting at the next table, so they had to behave themselves.
The two exchanged glances and saw the speechlessness in each other's eyes - as if they were walking hormone machines, were the control keys broken?
But unexpectedly, no one expected Alan to tap the table with his fingers, interrupting Buffon: "Say something we can understand? Cristiano?"
Buffon looked at Alan, curled his lips, and said nothing more. He just leaned over and patted Cristiano on the waist, saying softly, "Don't neglect your teammates. See you next time if there's a chance?"
"By the way, how about we exchange contact information? Next time you come to Turin, I will take you around this city. Maybe you will fall in love with it." Buffon said again.
Cristiano took out his mobile phone and exchanged numbers: "I like Turin, she is beautiful, but I don't like the weather there, there is too little sunshine."
Buffon laughed. He thought Cristiano would agree like most people - that would seem perfunctory and casual - but Chris gave him a little surprise. He felt that the young man responded seriously.
"Goodbye, Cristiano, I wish you all the best in the next World Cup." Buffon said, he gently put his arms around the young man's neck and kissed the side of his neck.
"Thank you Gigi, I wish you all the best too." Cristiano curled his eyes, patted the man's strong chest muscles, then widened his eyes slightly and patted twice more, "Wow, you've trained really well."
Buffon was stunned for a moment, standing there a little stiffly, and then he replied with a smile: "...Thank you, Cristiano."
Del Piero almost laughed out loud, until they were completely separated from the main players of Manchester United, he laughed out loud: "Oh my God Gigi, you also have this moment, how does it feel? Let me feel it. Judging from Ronaldo's expression, it seems to feel very good?"
Buffon: “…”
On the Manchester United side, Keane and his team stared at Cristiano: "What are you talking about?"
"How many languages do you know? English, Spanish, Italian?!" Rooney asked in disbelief. "Your basic courses in Portugal also cover these?!"
"You could call it a gift for languages," Cristiano shrugged and told Rooney. "I just know a little bit of everyday stuff. We talked about the weather, just some small talk."
Rooney almost rolled his eyes, but he held back.
"But Alan, don't you like Gigi?" Cristiano turned to Alan with some surprise.
"I'm not so quick to accept peacefully and friendly the goalkeeper who just saved our penalty the night before." Alan snorted.
The expression on Rooney's face looked more like he was constipated.
Alan paused, then turned to Rooney: "Nothing else."
Rooney: “…”
It’s better not to add this sentence.
Cristiano touched his nose and said: "Don't let winning or losing a game affect friendship, Alan, if I kick you back in the World Cup, don't you want to see me after the game?"
"...That's different." Alan choked, then immediately retorted, "You might as well think about what would happen if we kicked you back and you cried like a fountain on the court. Should we comfort you or ignore you?"
Cristiano shouted: "What fountain? Who is your Chinese teacher, Alan? This metaphor is terrible!"
"And give me a hug, win or lose," Cristiano said.
Alan laughed: "Have you thought about it a long time ago?"
"Hmm." Cristiano nodded noncommittally. The dishes came up and he scooped a spoonful of vegetable salad for himself. While mixing it, he said, "I'm easy to please. A hug is better than anything else."
Neville, Ferdinand and others who were sitting at the same table couldn't help but laugh. Neville shook his head and said, "Then you really don't have a clear understanding of yourself."
Easy to appease? Neville felt that there was no way to calm him down, because when Cristiano started crying, he didn't care what anyone said!
But on the other hand, Cristiano at least knew that this group of people usually spent energy to coax him, so it was not a waste of effort, right?
Cristiano said "Hey" and glared at Neville.
Neville laughed.
Ferguson, Queiroz and others sat at another table.
Ferguson looked at Cristiano, who was busy all the time. He took a sip of white wine and smiled. "You recovered really fast, kid. I was worried that he wouldn't be able to recover overnight."
"Young people," Queiroz said.
Ferguson nodded in agreement: "He fits in really quickly and makes friends everywhere."
"You mean the Juventus goalkeeper?" Queiroz reacted.
"Hmm." Ferguson found that his Portuguese boy seemed to be particularly popular with some older people, but there was nothing wrong with that, he thought to himself.
After finishing the meal, Rooney stood up and burped contentedly: "By the way, Ronnie, where did you buy the strawberry tart you bought for us last night? It's delicious. I want to see if I can take some back."
"Oh, I'll take you there." Cristiano replied readily.
"I'll go too." Alan said.
Cristiano nodded, and turned to Van der Sar, Giggs and others and asked: "What about you?"
"Let's go together." Giggs said reservedly. He also liked the strawberry tart last night, but he had to be a little reserved, especially in front of Ronnie. After all, he always said that they had to control their intake.
Ferguson listened to the boys' whispers and wondered, "Strawberry tart? What is that?"
"Oh, it's the midnight snack that Ronnie brought back last night." Queiroz answered subconsciously. He paused, coughed lightly, and looked up at Ferguson carefully, "Didn't you receive it?"
Ferguson: “…”
Cristiano felt a strong gaze coming from behind. He turned his head and saw Sir Alex Ferguson staring at him with a reproachful look.
He tilted his head in confusion and asked, "Boss? What's wrong?"
"Ronnie..." Ferguson paused. He couldn't say "Why do they all have strawberry tarts but I don't?" He still had to save his face.
He could only purse his lips depressedly and waved his hand, "It's nothing, you guys go ahead, but remember the time and don't miss the flight."
"Don't worry, Boss." Cristiano agreed quickly with a smile.
Ferguson cursed in his heart: Heartless little bastard!
Cristiano was like a little tour guide, taking the Manchester United main players to visit the dessert shop.
The sugar-free and low-fat king cake that was sold out the night before was now being baked in small quantities - sales were not very good, so only one was produced every day, specially for some special groups of people - Cristiano took one back home when he saw this.
Manchester United's main players cleared out the dessert shop, but it still wasn't enough. The owner of the dessert shop explained happily and apologetically that they would have to wait 20 minutes for the next batch. Cristiano had to act as an interpreter again and explain the situation to his teammates.
"You can also understand French?! Ronnie!" Rooney was numb. Why could a kid from a small Portuguese island know so many languages?
Cristiano grinned at Rooney. If Rooney also left his own country's comfort zone, maybe Rooney would master one or two more languages.
The group didn't wait for the next batch, paid the bill and went straight back to the hotel.
Cristiano took the king's cake and knocked on Ferguson's door.
"Come in."
Cristiano opened the door and poked his head in: "BOSS."
Ferguson was sitting on a sofa reading a newspaper. When he saw the little Portuguese boy sticking his head out with a smile on his face, he pursed the corners of his mouth that were about to rise and snorted softly.
"Don't read the newspaper, look what I brought you!" Cristiano's mouth twitched when he saw the huge photo of himself on the newspaper, and he immediately pulled the newspaper out of Ferguson's hand. Damn, he was crying again. Can't these people give him some face?
Cristiano is probably the only one in the entire club who dares to take things from Ferguson like this.
Ferguson sat up a little straighter: "What is it?"
"King's cake," Cristiano said. "You must have eaten it before, but this is different. You can eat more."
Ferguson raised his eyebrows, took out the outer packaging from the bag, and saw the words "Limited quantity and limited time supply" printed on the packaging.
He did have the King's Cake a few times, which was like a puff pastry filled with almond cream.
French desserts are always extremely sweet, high in sugar and fat, which is not very friendly to the elderly who have some heart problems. But since Ronnie bought it, Ferguson felt that he should at least eat a few more bites.
However, when Ferguson took the first bite, he realized why Cristiano said that this king cake was different - it was not sweet and did not have the greasiness of cream. It was obviously a dessert specially prepared for people with three highs. No wonder it was supplied in limited quantities and for a limited time.
He now understood why he didn't receive Ronnie's midnight snack last night.
Ferguson curled his lips, his heart softened beyond words. He raised his hand and ruffled Cristiano's curly hair twice: "Should we prepare to go to the airport?"
"We'll leave soon." Cristiano nodded in response.
He didn't know whether, when he left England this time and set foot on that land again, he would fall from the cheers of fans into hell in an instant, just like in his previous life. But he never regretted what he did.
Cristiano thought to himself that if Rooney committed a foul again this time, he would rush forward like he did in his previous life.
"What are you thinking about, Ronnie?" Ferguson was acutely aware that his boy was daydreaming.
"Oh, I was thinking about the World Cup later." Cristiano came back to his senses.
Ferguson smiled and patted Cristiano on the shoulder: "Play however you want, Ronnie. Although I don't like the old man Scolari, I like what he said."
"Also, after the World Cup, return to the club. Old Trafford will always be your home. Don't think too much." Ferguson added. He met Cristiano's somewhat surprised eyes and couldn't help laughing. Sure enough, his little Portuguese was worried about this matter?
Ferguson said: "After all, we have the best players in the world. They play for strong national teams. You will always run into them. It's not surprising. Winning or losing the game will not affect anything."
"Anyway, remember one thing, I'm here and Old Trafford will always be your home." Ferguson reached out and gently poked Cristiano's chest. He said gently, and the next second, he was unexpectedly hugged by the young man in front of him.
Ferguson was stunned for a moment, then he patted the boy on the back helplessly, and joked: "You almost knocked over my king cake."
"I always remember it, Boss, thank you." Cristiano whispered, suppressing the subtle choking in his voice.
Ferguson paused, then looked down at the top of the boy's head in his arms and began to wonder who had wronged his little Portuguese boy.
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