novelraw Chapter 894 - 615: Everyone Has Their Lows—Remember Your Original Aspirations and Climb That Road Again!
Chapter 894 - 615: Everyone Has Their Lows—Remember Your Original Aspirations and Climb That Road Again!
The plane landed at the airport of Boyaca Port in Colombia.
Tang Long and Berni, disregarding the fatigue of the journey, quickly took a taxi and headed towards the slum of Gualin's hometown.
Although calling it a taxi, the Corolla from the late 90s felt no different from riding a rickety motor tricycle.
Leaving the airport, the city's landscape gradually turned desolate.
Low and simple houses lined the streets, graffiti filled the walls, vibrant yet strangely oppressive.
"I doubt we can find him without any contact information," Berni said worriedly.
Over the past two years, Gualin severed all contacts with the outside world.
No one knew his exact phone number.
Berni hadn't seen this former Inter teammate for a long time, occasionally hearing of Gualin's decadent life from South American friends.
"We definitely can," Tang Long said firmly, "Gualin is a Colombian star. As long as he's in his hometown, we can find him."
When the taxi finally stopped at the entrance of the slum, Tang Long and Berni were shocked by the sight.
Here seemed like a forgotten corner of the world, narrow streets flowing with sewage, emitting an acrid smell.
Rubbish piled up like mountains, flies buzzing around.
Mixed-race children of various skin tones ran barefoot on the filthy ground, playing merrily.
"Can people even live in these houses? My God, Gualin better not die here..." Berni cautiously observed the passing pedestrians.
Passersby occasionally glanced at Tang Long and Berni.
Their appearances were striking; one Asian with yellow skin, the other a typical pure white person, noticeably different from the locals in skin color.
Most houses in the slum were made from dilapidated wooden boards, iron sheets, and plastic sheets, tottering as if a strong wind could blow them down.
Broken tiles on the roofs creaked in the wind, gaps between houses were narrow and crowded, sunlight struggled to penetrate the densely layered structures, casting shadows in these damp corners.
Street vendors displayed simple stalls, selling cheap goods, wrinkled fruits, blackened bread, and some unknown daily necessities.
In the slum, violence seemed to be the norm.
A few young people argued around the street corner and soon fought, people around just watched coldly, no one intervening, Berni and Tang Long swiftly walked past.
"Hey, where are you from!"
Not far away, several children with wooden sticks imitated adults, engaging in so-called "battles," shouting and waving their sticks at Berni and Tang Long passing by.
They asked everywhere about Gualin's whereabouts, but no one could pinpoint his location, Tang Long and Berni returned empty-handed.
Three days later, through Berni's connections in the Italian Mafia in South America, they finally located Gualin's house in a graffiti-covered dangerous building in the Boyacca Port slum.
Upon entering, there was a pile of beer bottles, the floor dirty with countless cockroaches crawling.
"Gualin! Come out!" Berni covered his nose.
"Gualin, are you here?" Tang Long shouted.
After a moment of silence, rustling sounds came from above, footsteps slowly moving.
A familiar voice came from the second floor, "Tang, Berni, is that you?"
Looking towards the direction of the voice, they saw Gualin slowly emerging from behind a pile of discarded tires, holding a half-empty beer bottle, a stench of alcohol wafting, his scruffy beard resembling a savage, eyes drooping, face weary and haggard.
Upon seeing Gualin, Tang Long and Berni were filled with excitement, they quickly stepped forward and embraced him tightly.
At that moment, it felt as if they returned to the days of battling side by side on the field, those beautiful memories flooding their hearts.
However, reality quickly reminded them that they urgently needed to find a way to help Gualin leave this dangerous, dark slum.
Tang Long looked at Gualin, noticing his body was skinny as a stick. At 184 cm tall, he weighed less than 130 pounds, his face thin and drawn, though not yet forty, he looked over fifty.
Gualin's father passed away five years ago.
Like the former Meazza king Adriano, losing his father, Gualin lost his spiritual support, resorting to alcohol to numb himself, temporarily forgetting pain, thus developing a drinking habit.
Under prolonged alcohol indulgence, Gualin's mental state became extremely dazed, squandering the hefty salary earned at Inter and Tottenham.
The fair-weather friends departed once he squandered his savings, no longer able to keep their company.
Gualin fell into solitude, his mental state increasingly dazed, living alone in the slum he grew up in, rarely stepping out except to buy alcohol.
When Tang Long and Berni found him, he had almost exhausted all his savings.
"Come, I'll take you back to Milan!" Tang Long said.
"What for? I can't play football anymore, can't afford Milan rent, I used to have a luxurious apartment in Milan, from the balcony you could see Meazza Stadium, ah, Meazza, I haven't been there for a long time, it was my home too." Gualin's listless eyes flickered with a trace of loss.
Tang Long and Berni exchanged glances, both sighed.
Among all the brothers who fought side by side at Inter, certainly Tang Long was the most successful;
But others weren't bad either, Icardi, Di Marco, Bonazzoli still played football, while Santon, Handanovic, Yuto Nagatomo though retired, accumulated decent salaries for a respectable retirement life.
Yet only Gualin struggled even to eat.
Tang Long said, "Go back to Milan, Gualin, get a coaching certificate, then work at Inter Youth Team, pull yourself together, like a man."
Berni nodded, "Indeed, with your age and body, returning to the field is impossible, but becoming a coach is possible, you know, Santon is already the Inter Youth Team's head coach, you working under him, he can cover for you."
Gualin's eyes briefly shone, then dimmed again, "You've seen me as I am now, a waste, would Inter want me? Even if they invite me, I'd feel embarrassed to go back."
Tang Long declared loudly, "No, you must return, Inter wants me back, you're coming with me, it's part of my condition for rejoining Inter, I'm a free agent now, have the bargaining power."
Gualin smiled, shaking his head, "Tang, why are you so good to me?"
"Because we're brothers, during your lowest point, I want to lend a hand, a word of advice, everyone has low points, recall your original intention, climb the road once again." Tang Long said.
Gualin looked at Tang Long, his eyes blurred by alcohol, yet suddenly his father's image appeared in them, recalling holding his dying father's hand, sobbing aloud, while his father weakly spoke of resilience, then slowly closed his eyes.
With a snap, Gualin smashed the beer bottle to the ground.
"Let's go, back to Milan together!"