Wolfsburg, located roughly 479 kilometers from Munich, is a quintessential industrial hub.
Near the Volkswagen Arena, the atmosphere was thick with corporate strategy.
"In recent years, the Group's sales growth in China has dwindled to single digits," said Fischer, Volkswagen's European Director, his expression grave. "To reverse this slump, we want to use football to shift the narrative."
Fischer knew deep down that relying on football to save an entire region's automotive sales was a long shot, perhaps even a fantasy. But options were running thin. The Group had tried everything: sponsoring the hit variety show Keep Running, launching new models to capture niche markets, and pouring millions into advertising.
The results had been negligible. Sales in the region hadn't budged. Turning to football was a move born of desperation, but at this stage, they were willing to try anything.
"This is a key move in our Asian market strategy," Fischer said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I need you to find an elite player—ideally, someone who can actually get on the pitch and make an impact in key matches."
Sitting across from him was Tim Schumacher, the General Manager of VfL Wolfsburg. The balding man looked pained. "Sir, you know the reality of Chinese players. Their abilities are limited. Reaching the standard you're asking for..."
"That is your problem to solve," Fischer interrupted sharply. "I am asking for a Chinese player, and I expect results."
Such was the life of an executive: pressure flows downhill.
"Understood," Schumacher nodded, accepting the assignment.
When he passed the directive down to the scouting department, it was met with immediate grumbling. The golden era of players like Yang Chen, Shao Jiayi, and Hao Junmin was over. Nowadays, the words "elite" and "Chinese footballer" rarely shared a sentence. Where were they supposed to find a diamond in that rough?
"Is the Volkswagen board delusional?" one scout muttered. "If we sign a Chinese player and he never leaves the bench, the backlash from the fans back home will be catastrophic."
A staff member named Pete began scouring the Chinese Super League for potential candidates. His eyes were beginning to ache from staring at spreadsheets when a colleague suddenly let out a cry of surprise.
"Hey, Pete! Look at this. A Chinese kid currently at Bayern Munich II. He even had some appearances in the regional leagues last season. I think he fits the boss's criteria perfectly!"
Pete bolted upright and leaned over to inspect the screen.
Decent stats, good looks, growing hype... He looked like the total package. It was as if someone had handed them a pillow just as they were nodding off.
"I wonder if he actually has the quality to play in the Bundesliga, the DFB-Pokal, or the Europa League," Pete mused, his expression shifting between doubt and hope. "Whatever. He's bound to be better than anyone we pull straight from the CSL. At the very least, his language skills won't be an issue."
Pete quickly verified the authenticity of David Qin's information and contacted the head of scouting. He was just a cog in the machine; he wasn't paid to make the final call. He'd let the higher-ups deal with the headache.
Three days later, in Munich.
[Dear Mr. David Qin, we have received your application materials. Following discussions between our scouting department and coaching staff, we would like to invite you to a trial at the VfL Center, In Den Allerwiesen, Wolfsburg, on July 28th at 3:30 PM.]
Reading the reply on his screen, David clenched his fist and gave a short, sharp pump in the air.
It had played out exactly as he predicted. Volkswagen had been looking for a Chinese face to front their brand for a long time. In the original timeline, Zhang Xizhe would have been the one to join the Wolves.
Does this mean I'm stealing Zhang Xizhe's spotlight? David wondered.
No, the dust hadn't settled yet. He hadn't passed the trial, and celebrating early was a rookie mistake.
With three days left before the trial, David dedicated himself to acclimating to his new body. The template reconstruction had gifted him with extraordinary raw talent, but he needed to harness it. He spent hours analyzing Ronaldinho's specific strengths.
First and foremost was "ball feel"—that ethereal quality that is notoriously difficult to teach. He remembered Johan Cruyff's advice about practicing dribbling in a cluttered living room to improve touch and reaction time. David turned his dormitory into a makeshift obstacle course; the results were surprisingly effective.
Next was the vision—the ability to process the game in three dimensions with imaginative flair. In the history of football, this was a rare, god-tier gift. David practiced various juggling techniques to sharpen his spatial awareness and sensitivity to the ball's trajectory.
The rest was the "bitter work": first touches, finishing, and passing. He'd stick to this regimen for now and wait until he was with a professional team to develop a more scientific training plan.
Not far from the reserve dorms, in the first-team manager's office.
"I moved Philipp Lahm from fullback to defensive midfield. In a sense, I helped the German national team win the World Cup this year. Is that not proof enough of my vision?"
Pep Guardiola sat with his head in his hands, sounding frustrated.
In his book Bayern Confidential, the journalist Martí Perarnau described this tactical shift as Pep's "Messi Moment." Years ago, Pep's flash of inspiration to play Messi as a False Nine had created a legendary forward and a historic team. Now, his repositioning of Lahm was having a profound impact on both Bayern and German football.
Everything should have been perfect.
And yet, with the summer transfer window open, a massive rift had formed between Guardiola and the Bayern board.
Last season, he wanted Neymar; the club refused, claiming a Brazilian wouldn't adapt to Germany. This season, he wanted Luis Suárez; the club refused again, citing the Uruguayan's tendency to bite opponents.
Fine, biting was a bad habit. But why on earth was the club trading Toni Kroos for Xabi Alonso?
He couldn't wrap his head around it. He had been in constant, fruitless discussions with Michael Reschke, the technical director. Amidst the chaos of squad planning and board meetings, the memory of the talented youngster he'd seen on the public pitch had slipped from his mind.
While Pep fretted over the board, that same youngster was boarding a high-speed train to Wolfsburg.
Watching the German countryside blur past the window, David felt a sudden surge of reality. He had been in this world for such a short time that he hadn't yet fully adjusted. But as he embarked on this journey alone, the lingering sense of displacement finally began to fade.
The six-hour trip was grueling. By the time David arrived in Wolfsburg, the sun was a soft, glowing orb hovering on the horizon.
He checked into the hotel the club had reserved for him near the VfL Center. After a quick meal and a shower, he went to bed early, determined to meet his trial in the best possible condition.