Soccer: If they're using these kinds of cheats, what's the point of training?

The next day was January 2th.

early morning.

Auxerre, Abe Deschamps Stadium training ground.

This training base, located in a small town in Burgundy, is as quiet as a secluded monastery on ordinary days. Apart from the shouts and whistles of the players during training sessions, it is almost completely silent at other times.

The security guard at the gate spends his days sitting in the reception room drinking coffee, reading newspapers, and occasionally opening the door for a few visitors.

But today, everything is different.

At 7:30 a.m., security captain Philip Morrow drove to the training base entrance as usual. He had just parked his car and hadn't even turned off the engine when he was stunned by the sight before him.

The training base was packed with people outside its gates.

He's not a football fan—no matter how many fans there are, he wouldn't be this surprised.

He is a reporter.

There were at least fifty or sixty people carrying cameras, holding recorders, and carrying large and small bags of equipment, completely blocking the entrance to the training base.

French television broadcast vans took up an entire lane, including TF1, Canal+, and France Télévisions—almost all of France's mainstream media outlets were there.

The British side was not to be outdone. The reporters from The Sun were the most eye-catching, and their photographers wore fluorescent vests with "The Sun" printed on them, making them particularly noticeable in the crowd.

People from the BBC and The Times also came, though not as high-profile as The Sun, but they were just as well-equipped.

Many journalists from Italy, Spain, and Germany also came, including those from top European sports media outlets such as Gazzetta dello Sport, Marca, AS, and Bild.

What truly amazed Moro were the Asian faces.

The most reporters were from Japan and South Korea.

The Japanese media included the Sankei Shimbun and Kyodo News, while the South Korean media included NAVER Sports and Yonhap News Agency. There were even a few flags that he and the people nearby couldn't distinguish; he later learned they belonged to Malaysian and Indonesian media outlets.

"My God..." Moro muttered to himself, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the steering wheel.

He picked up the walkie-talkie and pressed the call button: "This is the entrance, this is the entrance. You won't believe what's happening here—there are almost a hundred reporters at the entrance of the training base. Not fans, but reporters. From all over the world."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie.

"What did you say?" The security supervisor on duty asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

"Reporters," Moro repeated, "at least fifty or sixty, maybe more. They've set up cameras at the door, waiting for someone. I think we need backup."

Ten minutes later, the news spread throughout the entire Auxerre club.

From the gatekeepers to the management, from the youth team coaches to the first-team players, everyone was caught off guard by this news.

Some people ran to the window to look out, but seeing the dense crowd and countless cameras, they shrank back in fright. Others started calling reporters they knew, trying to find out what was going on.

Some people stood in the corridor, bewildered by the colleagues coming and going, muttering repeatedly, "Why are there so many people?"

Why are there so many people here?

The question circulated among everyone in the know over the next few minutes, eventually reaching the ears of head coach Fernandez.

The veteran coach was watching tactical videos in his office when assistant coach Stefano pushed open the door, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Yes, there are a lot of reporters outside." Stéphane's voice still carried a hint of surprise. "Not just a lot, but an unusually large number. French, British, Italian, Spanish, German—and Japanese and Koreans too. They've completely blocked the entrance."

Fernandez pressed pause and turned to look at Stéphane. He didn't speak immediately, but instead picked up the coffee cup on the table and took a sip—it was still cold.

"How many people?" he asked.

"At least seventy or eighty," Stefanie Sun said, "and it's still increasing, with a new batch arriving every few minutes."

Fernandez put down his coffee cup, stood up, walked to the window, and peeked out from behind the curtains.

Outside the training base gates, a large crowd gathered, and cameras were everywhere. His expression shifted from initial calm to a slight frown, then returned to calm.

"What are they doing here?" he asked. The question was serious, not a joke.

Stefan looked at him, unsure of where to begin.

"So...you didn't watch the news yesterday?"

"Last night I was watching the video of our next opponent's match twice, so I didn't have time to check the news."

Stéphane took a deep breath and organized his thoughts: "The Sun published a report about Zhang. It interviewed four women he had been involved with. That report has spread all over the world. The reporters here today probably want to interview him in person."

Fernandez remained silent for a long time.

"These reporters," he finally spoke, "are they all attracted by their flamboyant private lives?"

"At present, yes."

Another silence fell. This was like a report on a top global football star. Was this the kind of attention they were getting? It was ridiculous! Right now, only a handful of top stars like Ronaldo, Messi, Rooney, Gerrard, and Drogba receive this kind of attention.

Has Zhang arrived yet?

"Not yet, but it should arrive soon."

"Then let him handle it himself. Give him a call and tell him to get rid of these reporters so as not to affect today's training."

"Okay, I'll call right away."

Fernandez sat back down in his chair, picked up the remote, canceled the pause, and the tactical video continued to play, showing highlights of Montpellier's defenders' defensive performances this season.

Outside the training base.

The number of reporters has grown from the initial fifty or sixty to nearly one hundred. The small road in front of the training base is completely blocked by various vehicles, and several cars have simply parked on the grass by the roadside.

When Zhang Kuang received the call from the assistant coach, he was almost there. Hearing that reporters were waiting for him, he shook his head helplessly. Since the head coach told him to get rid of them, he would get rid of them.

Soon, when reporters captured his Porsche Cayman driving in from a distance, someone shouted "He's here!" and the crowd instantly stirred.

The cameramen carried their equipment and rushed forward, while the reporters pulled out their recorders and microphones, turning the once orderly queue into complete chaos.

Someone rushed into the middle of the road, blocking his way. Zhang Kuang had to stop the car—any further and he would run someone over.

He looked at the sea of ​​people outside through the windshield, then lowered the driver's side window. The first person to react was Jean-Philippe Dupont, a reporter from France 1.

He shoved the microphone in Zhang's face and spoke quickly: "Zhang, I'm a reporter from France 1. Have you read yesterday's report in Le Soleil? Do you have anything to say in response?"

"How about I park the car first, and then I can slowly give you an interview?"

"Just tell me directly, there's no need to go through all that trouble."

"Okay, I've seen The Sun's report. It's well-written and basically true. That concludes my answer."

"what?"

"But you can't expect us to be indifferent to reports like that, can you?" a British journalist chimed in—who had recognized his name tag as belonging to The Sun. "Four women, all saying you're 'funny,' 'thoughtful,' and 'art-savvy.'"

This is not an evaluation an ordinary person would receive, Mr. Zhang. We'd like to know—what are your own thoughts on these evaluations?

Zhang Kuang glanced at the reporter; he was from The Sun.

"So how am I supposed to react?" Zhang Kuang said, his tone flat.

"Your behavior is challenging the moral bottom line of society. Aren't you going to apologize or anything?" a reporter asked.

"Huh? I violated a moral line? Which moral line? Did I have sex with a married woman, or a minor? Or my friend's wife? Or did I engage in group sex in a public place? I brought them home. Or did I force them, thus breaking the law?"

Zhang Kuang retorted.