Chapter 62

"Wow..."

"Pretty..."

"Müller, a good kick..."

The Mineiro Stadium fell into silence, like tossing a fire into ice water. The samba dance halted abruptly, leaving only the German fans celebrating the team's lead. This was the World Cup semi-final, and each goal marked a step closer to the final.

At 10 minutes and 18 seconds into the game, the German team, capitalizing on a corner kick by Müller, scored the first goal. Brazil's Magino defensive line, usually formidable, became vulnerable in that moment.

In the box, David Beckham, who bet on Germany, and the Volkswagen Group director jumped from the sofa, waving arms toward the Brazilian team's goal and yelling.

While those who bet on Brazil were disappointed, they clapped calmly. Everyone was a spectator, and this level of sportsmanship was necessary. After all, the game had only just begun.

Yang Cheng, no longer maintaining a diplomatic 'quality,' sarcastically remarked, "What about it, Louis? Want to back out? I'm not one to linger!" The refund offer.

The audacious statement twitched the corners of everyone's mouths. Was this guy really from a wealthy family?

"What's the rush... The game has just begun; take it easy!" Louis Lehman remained calm. His arrangements were meant to turn the tide at the crucial moment, though he couldn't foresee the tragic outcome of the World Cup semi-finals.

Yang Cheng, indifferent to Louis's struggles, found solace as the game unfolded as remembered. His suspended heart eased momentarily. In a good mood, he pulled Miranda Kerr over to the field. Unbeknownst to them, their French kiss went unnoticed, and Yang Cheng's shirt was already soaked.

"My dear..." Kerr wiped saliva from her mouth corner, patting Yang Cheng on the shoulder with a touch of anger. She had witnessed the tit-for-tat between Yang Cheng and Louis Lehman, worrying about Yang Cheng's $100 million, which was more than her annual income of $8 million.

When the German team scored, she genuinely celebrated for Yang Cheng, understanding the emotional rollercoaster of this younger man being shut off from a financial windfall.

"Haha, care for a bet?" Yang Cheng raised his head, laughing, and put his arm around Kerr's shoulder, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I don't have any money." Kerr glanced beautifully and whispered in Yang Cheng's ear.

As the two bantered, the game continued. The Brazilian players, anxious after conceding early, launched a counterattack. However, the German team remained steady, intercepting the Brazilian team's three axes. They seized an opportunity to launch a sneak attack, leaving Brazilian fans in cold sweat.

Louis Lehman's good spirits didn't last long, shattered by the German team's second goal.

Ten minutes after the first goal, the German team exploited Brazil's pressing strategy. Capitalizing on the timing of the empty rear, several frontcourt players executed ingenious cooperation, and veteran Klose made the final decision. Klose, with this goal, surpassed the legendary Brazilian forward Ronaldo with 16 World Cup goals, topping the scorer list.

"Fuck..." Louis Lehman irritably loosened his tie, panting heavily. Blood flushed his usually gentle face.

Ha ha... Yang Cheng watched silently, refraining from further comments. Once was enough for this mockery. Going too far could lead to unexpected consequences, inconsistent with his purpose.

The rest of the guests sensed the odd atmosphere. Beckham forcibly suppressed his excitement. Cheering recklessly at this moment might be seen as a provocation by Louis Lehman, which wouldn't be fun.

The director of Volkswagen didn't have such concerns. They weren't competitors, nor did they reside in the same country. Winning money and shouting? What's wrong with that?

But the saga wasn't over. The German team went on a rampage. A simple bottom pass reached the center via Captain Ram. Midfielder Toni Kroos, following from the back, shot the ball angrily. Brazil's backline committed another low-level error, helplessly watching the ball rush into their own goal.

0:3. Following international protocol, the home team trailed the visiting team. This plot was unforeseen before the game. In the 24th minute of the first half, Brazil's fans, their expressions concealed, were likely weeping at this moment.

Louis Lehman's eyes turned red, his snort audible even to the distant Anthony, resembling an enraged bull.

I saw Louis Lehman fixating on a particular player on the green field—was it the referee? He turned to leave...

"Louis, the game isn't over yet," Yang Cheng said, his light and breezy words carrying a chill.

"Why do you care when I go to the bathroom? Too nosy, aren't you?" Louis sneered.

"Heh... I can't control that naturally, but there's a bathroom in the box," Yang Cheng sneered. His only task now was to keep a close eye on Louis Lehman, preventing any chance of mischief.

"I can't go out and catch a breath? What? You don't like me? Why are you watching me so closely?"

"Haha..."

Louis Lehman's words amused a few indifferent second generations.

Yang Cheng ignored Louis's furious sarcasm.

Slowly savoring the red wine, "Rest assured, I'm not interested in you, but I'm uneasy about your character. It's best not to leave this room before the game is over and don't touch your phone..."

"What do you mean?"

"The meaning is clear. I'm worried your antics might influence the game. So, to prove that I'm a villain with a bit of nobility, you're stuck in the box temporarily, okay?"

Yang Cheng's warning gained the support of the public director. "Yes, I agree with what Jason said. To avoid suspicion, it's best for everyone not to leave this room until the game is over."

The Volkswagen director didn't know Yang Cheng, nor did he understand the relationship between the two. Supporting Yang Cheng was purely in his self-interest. He had bet $20 million on Germany winning, a meager sum compared to the potential $90 million in 90 minutes. Aligning with Yang Cheng cost him nothing.

"Why? You're not qualified to restrict our personal freedom." The black man, with the highest bet, spoke with the voice of a subwoofer. Louis Lehman also had supporters.

He, too, supported the Brazil team. Everyone with a discerning eye could see the Brazilian players were already in a state of despair. If Louis Lehman maneuvered to reverse the decline, the black man would be pleased to see it. After all, he had staked $25 million.

This wasn't only his sentiment. Those who bet on Brazil in the box shared the same idea. Yet, due to the presence of public directors, they refrained from speaking.

Money reveals character. It instantly exposes the warmth or coldness of human relationships, and friendship? It's just a facade.

Because the benefits box was naturally divided into two factions, Hamdan sat steadily, watching the football game with enthusiasm. Regardless of the outcome, he couldn't lose.

"I can't control the others, but you can't leave, Louis." Yang Cheng nodded slightly to the Volkswagen director, thanking him for his support.

Ignore the tension in the box. Just 2 minutes later, Kroos, the hero of the last goal, completed a steal in the frontcourt. He and his teammates continued to make small-range passes. He pushed the empty goal and scored twice! The Brazilian players were turned around, and the score became 0:4.

When the Brazilian team fell again, the cameras on the scene caught the expressions of the fans. The smiles of the German fans and the grief and indignation of the Brazilian fans filled the stadium with polarities, and the stern looks made people look straight.

In the 29th minute of the first half, the German team scored the fifth goal of the game, and the five-star Brazil team fell apart.

The Mineiro Stadium was dead, with only a few German fans seemingly having a 'doomsday' carnival.

At this time, unless Luis Lehman smashed tens of millions of bonuses to buy off the referee, risked the world's ruin, and sentenced 5 penalties in a row, disregarding Brazil's face, his 100 million would be paid!

Will Louis do this? Yang Cheng couldn't help but secretly suspect.

The possibility is relatively low, but it cannot be ruled out that this guy might make an unexpected move.

"Hmph... You're fine. The money will arrive in 3 days. Can I go now?" Louis seemed to have recovered his calm, resigned to Yang Cheng.

Yang Cheng also knows that he can't push the other party in a hurry. He is still on the other side's territory. He doesn't dare to make a joke about his life, and many big people have witnessed the gambling game. Yang Cheng doesn't worry about him failing to account for it; even if he wants to, he still has to navigate international waters.

"But just left?" Yang Cheng frowned, muttering in her heart.

No one knows the rich man's elder brother better than him. If he was scammed by 100 million, he would have to jump up and bite. But Louis didn't even throw a word of cruelty down and didn't look back. Did he leave like this?

Is he such a talkative person?

Yang Sen sent Yang Cheng the detailed information about Louis Lehman. Yang Cheng had read it several times. It's nothing; knowing the enemy is victorious.

There is a record in the data. About 10 years ago, a local boy brother in Rio smashed Louis's favorite sports car because he was racing with Louis. Not only was he bankrupted by Louis's entire family business, but he was also forced, in the presence of that one son, to give up his wife and a few lovers. What's even more disgusting is that Louis imprisoned the son-in-law in a room in a slum. He fed him for 3 days. Finally, the son-in-law couldn't stand the humiliation and hit the wall. Suicide. (Little fat has heard real people and real things; it's disgusting...)

This matter was later suppressed by Paul Lehman. Almost no one knew. Yang Sen also learned it accidentally. It took a lot of money to understand the inside story. At the time, he also talked to Yang Cheng, guessing that Louis must have been subjected to some kind of blows leading to the distortion of the mind, either neurosis or schizophrenia!

Thinking of this, Yang Cheng couldn't help but shudder. As the saying goes, he was frightened and frightened. In Yang Cheng's eyes, Louis Lehman was properly classified as a kind of death.

MD, I don't want to play anymore, so I will return to the United States in a while! Yang Cheng will never admit that he admits to counseling, and he must rely on wisdom to deal with people who are desperate. . . Yes, outsmart!

The competition is still going on. Brazilians have no interest in singing and dancing. If you look from the front, everyone is expressionless and empty-eyed. For Brazil, this day is equivalent to the end of the world.

Yang Cheng also lost the thought of watching the ball. Since his rebirth, Yang Cheng's instincts have been very keen. Several uneasy thoughts have surged in his heart, and soon there will be accidents, big or small, and this time is no exception.

Now his instinct tells him that the alternative 'match' with Louis Lehman is far from over.