Chapter 280
It was still dark when Cristiano woke up. He was awakened by the pain from the wound on his eyebrow bone. After the effect of the painkiller wore off, the pain began to come knocking.
He opened his eyes, but before his eyes could adjust to the dim light in the room, he heard a soft call.
"Cris?"
Cristiano almost immediately recognized that it was his lover's voice, and he hummed softly: "Kaka?"
"It's me." Kaka responded, and then there was the sound of rustling clothes, followed by a "click" and the light in the ward was turned on. Kaka leaned over slightly, "Why did you wake up? Is your wound starting to hurt?"
Cristiano frowned because of the sudden light and tried to cover his eyes with his arms, but was quickly stopped by Kaka.
"Don't move." He held Cristiano's arm and carefully put Cristiano's arm back into the quilt. "Don't touch the wound. How do you feel now?"
"Not bad." Cristiano replied, his eyes finally focused on Kaka's face. He raised his hand and rubbed the side of Kaka's face with the back of his hand, raised the corner of his mouth, and said in a hoarse voice, "You look worse than me."
Kaka didn't believe Cristiano's nonsense. He knew that Cristiano was awakened by the pain. He once heard his lover's unconscious humming.
"Cris, don't lie to me, I know." Kaka lowered his head and pressed it against Cristiano's forehead. He carefully avoided the wound on the side of his brow bone and held Cristiano's face with both hands. "Your painkiller has worn off, right? The nurse told me that if I feel too much pain in the second half of the night, I should go to the nurse's station to ask for another pill."
"It does hurt a little, but not to that extent." Cristiano tilted his head slightly and rubbed Kaka's face with the tip of his nose.
Because of the pain, his breathing was a little heavy, but he just curled his eyes and said to Kaka: "I want to sit up and drink some water. Just chat with me for a while."
Kaka looked at him, was silent for a moment, then stood up and nodded slightly.
"By the way, do Junior and Luca know?" Cristiano asked first after drinking some water. He was more worried that the two children would panic after seeing the game.
Kaka replied: "They didn't see the video. I asked Emma to be careful not to show the video to the children. But I told them that you were injured and they would know it sooner or later."
"You're right." Cristiano nodded. He knew Kaka would handle the matter.
"I guess the video looks scary?" he asked next.
"It would scare the children to the point of making them cry," Kaka said.
After he finished speaking, Cristiano started laughing, as if he was amused by his exaggerated statement.
He shook his head, lifted Cristiano's face slightly, and looked at the injuries on his lover.
The injury to Cristiano was too close to his eye, just a finger's width away, and the studs of his sneakers might have hit his eye.
Kaka was still breathing tremblingly with fear.
He carefully placed his hand on the side of Cristiano's face, and his lover, who was born knowing how to act coquettishly, habitually turned his face to the side and rested it in his palm.
Kaka leaned in and kissed the corner of Cristiano's mouth, and whispered: "You scared us all."
"Don't worry." Cristiano lowered his head and kissed Kaka's palm. He asked again, "What about the game? How is it?"
"We won, 7-1, a big win," Kaka said.
Cristiano blinked, and he grinned, looking very happy: "I know. Who scored the goal? Let me guess. It must be you, and then Karim? Gareth? Or Morata? Toni or Luca, maybe one of them, and Sergio, he can also score... Oh, this is really hard to guess."
When talking about the game, Cristiano seemed to become much more interested. His eyes were wide open and bright like a puppy who got a ball.
Kaka smiled upon seeing this, and he inconspicuously held Cristiano's head with his hands to prevent his lover from dancing and shaking his scarred head when talking about football.
He nodded helplessly and announced the answer: "Yes Cris, there was me, two goals, Benzema also had two, then Bale, he scored one, Morata assisted one, Kroos too, Sergio? He didn't, but he got back very hard and he got a yellow card."
Cristiano blinked and smiled: "I knew you would score a goal, I told you so."
Kaka remembered what Cristiano said to him before he left the field. He raised the corner of his mouth slightly and whispered: "I won't let you down."
"Of course," Cristiano replied. "Sergio got a yellow card? That doesn't surprise me at all."
Kaka's smile became more obvious.
The two chatted for a while. Kaka noticed that Cristiano's voice was gradually getting softer, and knew that Cristiano was tired. He laid the bed flat and said in a low voice, half coaxing him, "Sleep a little longer Cris, it's almost dawn."
"Then you come up and sleep for a while." Cristiano half-opened his eyes sleepily, moved to the side to make an empty space, patted the bed sheet, and looked at Kaka insistently.
It was not the first time that Kaka did not refuse. He lay on his side next to Cristiano. Before he closed his eyes, he heard his lover laughing softly.
"Remember that time when you came to the hospital, it was the same thing? The next day, Boss and Roy came, and you hid in the bathroom." Cristiano said, he turned his head and looked at Kaka, a happy and cunning smile flashed in his eyes.
Kaka also laughed. Of course he remembered, and he was still discovered. He really thought that he would be thrown out by Keane and his men.
But fortunately, they didn't, and more importantly, Sir Alex Ferguson didn't discover their little secret.
He squeezed Cristiano's palm and shook his head helplessly: "Go to sleep, Cris, it's the next day now. Sir Alex Ferguson and Keane may not be here, but Zizou and Sergio will definitely come. You don't have much time to sleep."
Cristiano blinked and buried his head in Kaka's shoulder: "Good night Kaka."
"Don't put pressure on the wound." Kaka shrank back a little and pried open a little of Cristiano's face. His lover's face always had a little bit of baby fat. He pinched it lightly, and then saw Cristiano's face puffed up.
He kissed Cristiano's lips, which were slightly bulging and deformed by his pinching: "Good night Cris."
Cristiano smiled and closed his eyes.
His wounds still hurt, but these pains were like old friends to him. He endured them, was familiar with them, and got used to them.
Zidane and other players arrived at the hospital at noon the next day, and Kaka had already completed the discharge procedures for Cristiano.
"I'm fine, my wound is almost healed." Cristiano gave his teammates a thumbs up, winked with a smile, and followed the team to get on the bus to the airport.
Ramos was sitting in the front seat of the bus. He turned his head and looked at Cristiano: "Are you kidding me? A wound that big almost healed overnight? It will hurt for at least several days. You will have a hard time sleeping at night. It might even hurt so much that you can't sleep."
"I'm almost well. My recovery ability has always been very good, and I can tolerate pain very well." Cristiano raised his chin.
Ramos thought to himself when he heard this, this is true, he has never seen anyone who can get five stitches on the sidelines without anesthesia, without crying out in pain or struggling, just sitting there quietly, even though Cristiano is the one who can cry the most in their team.
He glanced at Cristiano and found that the Portuguese was looking at him with his chin raised, like a cat that was always proud and reserved.
Ramos was immediately amused by his own thoughts. Come on, Cristiano is like a cat? He's more like a leopard.
——Even if this leopard will not bite people, if it is annoyed, the opponent's goal will definitely be scored fiercely.
Cristiano was sensitive to Ramos' laughter. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Ramos: "Do you believe I can play a game right away?"
"Come on, please be quiet." Ramos shook his head. He suddenly thought of something and looked at Cristiano. "Don't tell me you still want to fly to Portugal to play in the World Cup qualifiers tomorrow."
Cristiano narrowed his eyes and said, "Why not? I told you, I'm almost well again."
He has a secret weapon. Cristiano mentally made faces at Ramos.
Ramos took a breath, then immediately looked at Kaka: "Is he serious?"
Kaka also frowned slightly. He had not discussed the upcoming national team match with Cristiano, but he almost assumed that the other party would stay at home and have a good rest. Obviously, he guessed wrong.
"Don't force it, Cris, you should have a good rest." Kaka said disapprovingly.
Cristiano looked at Kaka: "I think I have rested well and will recover better tomorrow. I have made up my mind unless they reject me."
Will Portugal reject Cristiano? Obviously not possible.
Kaka knew that he couldn't convince Cristiano about the national team game, he could only pray that Cristiano didn't insist.
Ramos shook his head: "That's just the World Cup qualifiers, is it worth it? We still have more club games to play next, you..."
"I will also participate. I will not be absent." Cristiano interrupted Ramos directly. He looked at him with a smile and nodded his eyebrow, as if he was looking at an unintelligent fool. "My injury is here, and it will not affect my training and competition."
"There's still training?" Ramos was completely helpless with Cristiano. He muttered and complained: "You really should give yourself some time to catch your breath. Do you think you are an iron man?"
Cristiano chuckled when he heard this. He suddenly leaned forward, hugged the back of Ramos' chair, and asked, "Are you concerned about me, or do you need my game after the concern?"
Ramos subconsciously shrank back, but was blocked by the table that was lowered in front of him and could not move back much.
He met Cristiano's eyes, and felt an inexplicable sense of guilt and shortness of breath. Then he stiffened his neck and said, "Can't you tell? Sese is so sad."
Cristiano sneered and slapped Ramos' forehead: "Don't worry about me, I will do everything well."
The "pop" sound was particularly crisp and loud, attracting several glances from teammates around him.
Cristiano felt guilty for a rare moment. He didn't expect the hit to be so loud. Ramos' forehead turned red in almost two seconds.
He quickly looked away and leaned on Kaka's shoulder, looking so tired that he wanted to close his eyes and take a rest, which made Ramos swallow back all the words he wanted to shout.
Ramos could only turn back to his seat in frustration. Modric, who was sitting next to him, looked at him several times, hunched his shoulders and couldn't stop laughing.
“Oh my god, you have a stamp on your forehead,” he said, adding, “Cristiano’s stamp, fresh out of the oven.”
Ramos turned to their midfielder with a wry smile: "...Do I look like an envelope?"
"You look like a not very smart idiot," Modric replied.
Cristiano leaned on Kaka's shoulder and laughed.
It was already late at night when he returned to his home in Madrid. The next afternoon, Cristiano flew back to Portugal on a private plane, taking Pepe and Coentrao with him.
"You look and feel worse than the day before." Coentrao sat in the seat opposite Cristiano and pointed out bluntly, "Pepe, look at him, right?"
Cristiano propped up his head and half-closed his eyes, and said lazily, "Three flights in four days, your face won't look good anymore."
Coentrao came over suddenly and put his hand on Cristiano's forehead, but Cristiano dodged it suddenly. Then he tilted his body dizzily and pressed his head.
"You have a fever, Cristiano." Coentrao frowned seriously, "Did you know that?"
"Maybe I caught a cold." Cristiano snorted, "I didn't get enough rest. I'll have a good sleep when I get to the hotel."
Coentrao: "..."
Pepe frowned and asked, "Kaka didn't stop you?"
Cristiano raised his eyes and gave Pepe a look - if Kaka had stopped him, would he still be here?
He was too lazy to speak.
He cooled himself down before going out, and there was also a healing kit in the system. Although it had a time limit, at least he had passed Kaka's inspection. However, if he wanted to use it again after using it once, he would have to wait until the cooling time was over, just like a game skill.
For Portugal, every World Cup qualifier is important, they can't always win the game and qualify.
Cristiano hopes that he can appear in every game that the national team needs him. He wants to do something for Portugal and wants to lead the team as far as possible. After taking over Portugal from Figo, he hopes to lead Portugal to the next peak.
The other two Portuguese on the plane exchanged glances, and no one said anything else. Pepe lowered his head and poked at his phone.
Until the plane landed steadily.
As soon as he got off the plane, Cristiano was stopped by the national team coaching staff and medical team who came to the airport to pick him up. Even Costa, who came to the national team as an assistant coach, was with them.
"Rui?" Cristiano was a little surprised to see Costa. "Why are you here? I thought I would see you at the training ground."
"Because I heard that there is a restless kid trying to be stubborn, I came to confirm it." Costa said. He pushed Cristiano to sit down and signaled the medical team to come up and check Cristiano.
Cristiano choked, looked up at Costa, and emphasized: "That must not be me."
"Shut up, Chris. If you're still restless, I can get Luis over. Luis is attending an event in this city today." Costa leaned over and said in Cristiano's ear.
——He had to give some face to the current Portuguese captain, so the threats should be kept between the two of them.
Cristiano shut up.
Costa finally had time to take a good look at Cristiano. He took a deep breath. Even though he had known that Cristiano had injured his eyebrow bone, the picture was no match for what he saw with his own eyes. There was a dark color under the boy's eyes, like a bruise, which had not yet completely faded. It looked particularly bad.
"He has a fever, the wound on his brow bone has not healed well, and he lacks rest." A staff member nearby said to Costa.
Costa's face looked even uglier, and he turned to Cristiano seriously.
Cristiano pursed his lips, still trying to insist: "It's enough for me to go back to the hotel and rest for a night."
"Do you think Luis would agree?" Costa asked.
Cristiano: “…”
"Go back to Madrid and have a good rest. There is no room for negotiation. I can call Bento for you and he will agree with me." Costa said, pretending to call their coach.
Cristiano saw Costa's expression that left no room for refusal, and he slumped his shoulders dejectedly: "I know Rui, no need to call, I will be back."
Costa saw that their little strawberry was as listless as a leaf hit by frost. He shook his head and said, "Real Madrid's upcoming schedule is also very busy, right? You need to rest for at least two games."
Cristiano pursed his lips and didn't respond. He thought to himself, it depends on Zizou, there's nothing he can do.
Seeing Cristiano's rare silence, Costa raised his eyebrows in surprise. Suddenly, as if realizing something, he approached Cristiano as if he had discovered a new world and said, "You really listen to Zidane, don't you?"
Cristiano: "...I always listen to my coach, every coach does."
"Okay, okay." Costa smiled. He rubbed Cristiano's hair twice and thought to himself, Cristiano is indeed always obedient, but that doesn't mean Cristiano has no personality and temper. Just ask Mourinho, these two have quarreled with each other more than once.
But it is always strange. Even though the two have quarreled several times, every time Mourinho is asked about Cristiano, he always has a proud attitude like "he is the best" and "the other one can't compare".
Costa shook his head. These two Portuguese must be the most individualistic, proud and unruly Portuguese he had ever met.
Figo called Cristiano after he returned to Madrid. He was rarely angry on the phone, but he still restrained himself and only asked about Cristiano's injury.
"Okay, Luis, I get it. I'm at home, I'm lying down obediently, Kaka is here, I won't make any trouble, I have been sent back by Portugal." Cristiano responded in a series, his face wrinkled, and there was a cool towel on his forehead.
As he was speaking, the towel was taken away, and Kaka changed it and put it on again. It was so cold that Cristiano shivered and took a breath subconsciously.
"What's wrong?" Figo noticed sharply and asked, "What did you do again?"
"...I didn't do anything. I was just frozen by the towel." Cristiano curled his lips in a helpless smile. "Don't talk about me, Luis. Did your work go well today?"
"Just barely, if you don't count the question about your broken eyebrow at the press event," Figo said. "You didn't even tell me."
"No broken bones! Just a few stitches." Cristiano corrected, touching his nose, "I can't just go around and tell everyone, hey, I'm injured?"
Figo: "...Cristiano!"
He really had no way to deal with Chris.
Cristiano laughed. He held his phone between his legs and ate the fruit handed to him by Kaka. He mumbled in a soft and unclear voice: "I'll tell you next time, I promise."
"You'd better not do it again." Figo's eyelids twitched, and he suddenly thought of his good teammate. Zidane didn't even tell him the news of Cristiano's injury. He pursed his lips, as he had another phone call to make.
"Of course, of course." Cristiano responded readily.
After hanging up the phone with Figo, Cristiano looked up at Kaka and said, "...Do you think I should call the boss?"
Kaka smiled. He opened the social software on his phone, which was flooded with news about Cristiano being forced to return by the Portuguese team due to injury and fever.
He looked at Cristiano: "Will Sir Alex Ferguson be happy to hear this?"
Cristiano: “…”
He shrank his neck and obediently tucked his two bare feet between Kaka's legs to keep warm. His beast-like instinct made him realize that his lover was angry and not easy to mess with.
Kaka held Cristiano's ankle. Even though he was angry at Cristiano's behavior, when he saw Cristiano's reaction, he could neither be angry nor laugh or cry. He could only reach out to cover the soles of Cristiano's feet and massage the calf muscles.
"Then I'll make a call." Cristiano smiled and narrowed his eyes.
Ferguson's blower scolded the Portuguese coach. Bento, who was doing pre-match warm-up training at the Luz Stadium, sneezed several times in a row, and then suddenly realized that he had forgotten to bring his work badge.
I'm going to be deducted money again. Bento scratched his head and thought depressedly.
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