Back in Wolfsburg, David Qin was already holed up in his dormitory, deep-diving into Everton.
Manchester United's "little brother" had been in formidable form lately. First and foremost was their spearhead, the "Little Monster"—Romelu Lukaku. The Belgian had completed a permanent move from Chelsea to Everton this past summer for a cool 35 million euros. He had marked his debut against Arsenal with an assist, and in the recently concluded fourth round of the Premier League, he had latched onto a long ball from Stones to hammer home a spectacular volley.
Speaking of John Stones, David found him particularly interesting. He recalled a future quote from Pep Guardiola describing Stones as a player who would "revolutionize the center-back position." As it happened, Stones was playing as the right-sided center-back, meaning David would be running directly at him all night.
"The Toffees are definitely strong," David mused, leaning back on his bed after finishing the match tapes.
Since David Moyes' departure for Manchester United, Roberto Martínez had taken over the established framework and begun injecting his own tactical DNA into the squad. Current Everton was not only lethal in transition but also remarkably well-organized at the back.
"Compared to them, Arsenal looks a bit soft. They were top four last year, but where are they now?" David shook his head, unable to recall Arsenal's current standing. He pushed it out of his mind; it didn't concern him. Even if he ever had the chance to move to the Emirates, that was a problem for future David.
He scanned the Europa League group stage draw. Wolfsburg had been placed in Group H. It wasn't exactly a "Group of Death," but it was competitive enough: Everton, Krasnodar, and Lille. Everton and Lille were established names from the Premier League and Ligue 1, while Krasnodar represented the tough, physical challenge of the Russian Premier League.
Looking at the rest of the tournament, the lineup was star-studded: Ajax, Sevilla, Napoli, Inter Milan, Tottenham, and Roma. Winning the whole thing was going to be a monumental task.
Late at night.
While Wolfsburg slept in silence, China—thousands of miles away—was waking up. In the bustle of the morning commute, people on subways, buses, and street corners were glued to their phones, watching match highlights. They were watching David Qin's performance against "The Village."
When they saw David's consecutive flicks to bypass Süle and Rudy, many couldn't help but grin. That display of flair and agility was exactly what many of them had fantasized about in their own youth. On sports forums, the comment sections were exploding with joy.
"Even though David didn't score in back-to-back games, this level of play is incredible."
"Remember, he's only sixteen."
"Didn't Alain Perrin say he was waiting for the Asian Cup to call him up to the national team?"
"Perrin is actually right. At David's age, the experience gained in a high-quality environment like the Top 5 European leagues is invaluable for growth."
"Perrin is a 'pragmatic chef'—he looks at the ingredients he has and cooks accordingly. He knows Chinese players lack technique, so he picks physical, resilient players who can grind out results."
"Exactly. His tactics are solid defensively, even if the offensive coaching is a bit lacking. They often hold their own against giants but struggle to break down weaker teams. It's a finishing problem. If David Qin lives up to the hype, our offensive woes might finally be over."
If missing the World Cup had plunged Chinese fans back into despair, David was now a tangible, visible beacon of hope they could actually reach for.
As the sun rose over Wolfsburg, David was already executing his morning training regimen.
"David, the medical staff finished your latest scans. They found that your leg muscles—or rather, the nerve distribution—is exceptionally dense. That's why you feel so 'connected' when you're on the ball," assistant coach Ton Lokhoff said, looking over the report. "We need to increase your leg muscle strength to boost your explosive power and control precision, and we're adding neurological reaction drills to your schedule."
German football had evolved into a pinnacle of scientific training. With high-tech tools like force-analysis software and ultra-high-speed cameras, players no longer had to "cross the river by feeling the stones."
"Copy that!" David replied, wiping sweat from his brow with a bright smile.
"Keep it up. The Boss just told me... for the Everton match, you're in the starting eleven!" Lokhoff added. He genuinely liked David's infectious, positive energy.
"Thanks, Ton!" David's smile widened. He was itching to get to England and see a Premier League side up close. Before his reincarnation, as a corporate drone, he never had the chance to see a game abroad. The Premier League had only ever existed for him behind a screen.
After his strength training, David added flexibility work. The flair-heavy techniques he favored demanded high levels of suppleness. After all, the most iconic players—like Zlatan Ibrahimović—were famously flexible.
"David, I'm heading to a club later. Lots of girls. You in?" Junior Malanda poked his head in.
"No, thanks," David shook his head. He wasn't trying to live like a monk, but he was in a critical foundation-building stage. He had too much to learn. Moreover, veteran coaches like Dieter Hecking were cut from the same cloth as Sir Alex Ferguson; they expected players to work hard on the pitch and keep their private lives clean. He didn't want to risk his standing with the manager for a night out.
"Kevin, how about you?" Malanda asked.
"I'll pass," De Bruyne replied flatly. Having recently been "cuckolded," he was in a phase of avoiding women entirely. Combined with his introverted nature, he wasn't exactly looking for a party.
"Ugh, you two are so boring. The ball might be round, but it's not soft enough," Malanda joked, making a lewd grabbing motion in the air.
Time flew. On September 13, 2014, David and his teammates boarded a flight for Liverpool. Since Wolfsburg has no airport, they traveled via Hannover.
The 850km trip took just over an hour. Before David knew it, they had touched down. Looking out at Liverpool John Lennon Airport, everything felt surreal and fresh.
"You're not a secret Liverpool fan, are you?" Ivica Olić asked out of the blue.
"No way! I'm a Man—wait, I mean, I've dreamed of playing for Wolfsburg since I was a kid!" David blurted out, thumping his chest for emphasis.
"Haha, no need to hide it. I'm still a Bayern Munich fan," Olić shrugged. He leaned in closer and whispered, "I'll tell you a secret: Kevin is a Liverpool fan. He grew up idolizing Michael Owen."
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