Chapter 1742

No one in the cluttered dressing room paid special attention to Zhuoyang's movements, only pique and Busquets followed him.

Zhuoyang went straight to Marcos and greeted him with a big smile: "Hi, Rafael, it's a nice day today."

Rafael Marcos didn't dare to neglect even though he felt puzzled. He quickly replied with a smile: "Hi, Zhuo..."

All of a sudden, Zhuoyang's face changed a lot, his smile disappeared, his angry eyes curled up in the clouds, and he snapped, "you dare to look down on me!" A slap on the backhand slapped Marcos in the face, and the crisp sound reverberated in the dressing room.

Don't talk about Marcos, everyone is in a muddle. All kinds of surprised expressions are written on every face. The open mouth is big, small, round and square.

"I'm kind enough to come over and say hello to you. You sit still. Fuck "

" pa! " Another one.

Marcos couldn't get back to God at all, and the rest of them were still stunned and fixed.

"I make you look down on me!"

"Pa!"

"Make you look down on me!"

"Pa!"

At one breath, there were four big crisp mouths. The gray face of the mixed race Marcos was drawn to the blue of the wood kiln. After the rain, the sky was clear.

"What are you doing, Zhuoyang?"

"Zhuoyang, you are crazy!"

Finally, someone came to know that Puyol and Harvey snapped off, and Henry, Abidal, Keita and others "shouted" from their seats.

Although Marcos was blinded by the smoke, he was also on the head, and "Puma" jumped up and hit Zhuoyang with his fist. It's all his subconscious behavior after he was attacked. He didn't think much about it.

Zhuoyang, who had been prepared for a long time, let this fist swing, then he grew up and hit Marcos on the cheek with an iron elbow. Before he fell, another two lightning strikes on his chest, smashing Max back to his seat.

This is just a psycho! Just because Marcos didn't stand up to talk to him, he had to fight? Although Barcelona's dressing room is not famous for its unity, it has never happened such a bad thing. Is it Real Madrid?

Marcos's blood is churning and his cheeks are not his. At this time, Marcos has forgotten what watch, only the stress response after being hit for no reason.

He reached for a square stool next to him, which was the temporary seat for assistant coaches when chanting sutras. When he got up, he would rush to fight Zhuoyang.

Zhuoyang quickly bounced back two steps, and stood in the middle of the dressing room with his arms down. A sense of awe filled the air. When marcoston felt Zhuoyang's eyes were cold.

"Marcos! You can do it if you want. " Zhuo Yang's voice is as deep as LV's. "When you lift the stool, you will not die."

Marcos was instantly fixed as if he had been punctured, and the square stool had just been leveled, so it solidified there like a sculpture. He understood and sobered up. Zhuoyang is here for a watch.

For a moment, Marcos had mixed feelings. He regretted that his hands were too cheap to control. He regretted that he didn't give his watch to Busquets early to settle the matter.

Seeing that he didn't dare to move, Zhuoyang turned to pull his Puyol, and his expression changed in an instant.

"Auntie Puyol, I'm miserable."

"I'm too miserable. I can't control myself. I'm insane. I've got mental illness."

Puyol feels that he's going to be insane. Zhuoyang makes a little trance from madman to fool.

"Aunt Pu, you don't know. My disease is called Intermittent rabies No, manic Yes, I'm afraid I can't be stimulated because of my intermittent stress and Mania! "

"Intermittence Psychology Rabies Disease? "

"Yes, yes. If you are despised by others, you may become ill immediately, just like this. It's just like this when I'm sick. It's so miserable. I can't control my hands and feet at all. I just want to hit people. I can't control... "

"Aunt Pu, dear teammates, you are all my relatives. You must not give up on me. Please enlighten me, save me and help me."

Puyol is going to hallucinate, as if he is no longer in the Barcelona dressing room. Only pique and Busquets knew it. Pique closed his eyes awkwardly. Busquets looked at him with a twist of his head: is this your way?

Messi, Ibrahimovic and Henry look at each other. Zhuoyang has rabies? But I heard that's not true of rabies? He's too miserable, isn't he? It's very good. How can a person get on Isn't that fucking bullshit!

Puyol was at a loss. He wanted to give Zhuoyang a warm hug and a fiery hug.

"Zhuo Yang, here Is it true or not? "

"It's true, it's true, there's no cure. If I want to cheat you, I'll let Mexicans suck." It's too glib to make puyoldine react.

"Why does it happen?"

Zhuoyang changed from crying and contorting his face to deep and solemn: "I don't know. Anyway, if I was stimulated, I would be despised, racial discrimination Racial discrimination? "His face became ferocious and pompous again: "how dare you discriminate against me

"Hoo" to the back of the leg burst out, kicking Marcos as silly still holding the stool. The power is so great that Marcos is still motionless when he flies away from the square stool, just like the cup pressed by the bill.

The square stool smashed on the front wall and broke.

"Woda ~ ~ ~"

Zhuoyang turns around in situ with the help of inertia, which is as beautiful as ballet and full of whirling and kicking. His right foot hit from top to bottom at the joint of Marcos's shoulder and neck, and he fell to the ground like a fallen tree.

"Stop!" Puyol, who was about to rush out of his wits, hurriedly grabbed Zhuoyang and held him for fear that he would beat him to death again. The changing room is full of cool air, just like a pressure cooker.

Messi, Xiaobai and coffee also rushed to hold Zhuoyang. Other people had various expressions, some were angry, some were excited, some were embarrassed, some were tongue lashing, some were ignorant from the beginning to the end.

Zhuoyang's expression has returned to indifference. He lets several people hold him like a bundle. He doesn't talk nonsense or resist at all. He just stares coldly at Marcos, who is lying on the ground and half looking up.

Their eyes were weaved together in the noise.

There was fear in Max's heart! Growing up in the slums as a child, he used to be a bad young man who did a lot of bad things, a junior gangster. Such a gangster has the enigmatic worship for the big brother on the road. In the face of ordinary people, small gangsters can bully them arbitrarily, but the eldest brother can make them shiver with one look. Even if he has never seen the eldest brother before, he only heard of his reputation.

Although he left the slums early, the psychological inertia of childhood was not so easy to eradicate. For Marcos now, Zhuoyang, who has a long reputation, is the kind of big brother on the road today.

"What's wrong with the mess? You What are you doing around aunt Pu? " Guardiola, who had just pushed in the door at the time of chanting, immediately fell off his face when he saw this, but he was startled by Marcos, who was lying on his feet.

"Oh, fuck me, you're fucking lying here making chicken ba..."