"Stuttgart has shifted their tactical approach," Wolff-Christoph Fuss observes. "They've instructed Christian Gentner to drift wider, providing support to the flank in an attempt to neutralize David Qin's one-on-one threat."
"However, that adjustment is a double-edged sword. It has granted Kevin De Bruyne a massive expanse of green grass to operate in. The Wolves' offensive pressure is becoming suffocating now, pinning Stuttgart deep inside their own eighteen-yard box."
Antonio Rüdiger kept his gaze locked on David Qin, but the opportunity to impose himself physically hadn't materialized. For now, he had to wait.
When he saw the Wolves' defensive midfielder Josuha Guilavogui—a classic "powerhouse" engine—flick a pass out to Marcel Schäfer on the wing, Rüdiger barked a warning to Gentner. Sure enough, Schäfer, starting in place of the ill Rodríguez, whipped a first-time ball into the half-space, finding David Qin perfectly in the pocket.
"Don't dive in!" Gentner barked at his teammate, Florian Schwab, as they braced themselves. The two of them formed a solid wall, standing squarely across David's path to the goal, seemingly leaving no gap for a breakthrough.
David faced their vigilance with a series of rapid step-overs, testing their nerves to see if they'd bite. The response was disciplined silence; they didn't budge. Seeing this, David adjusted his body orientation, appearing ready to recycle the ball back to his teammates.
At that exact moment, a thought flashed through Schwab's mind: He's turning his back to me. If I press now, I can nick the ball. Gentner had reached the same conclusion simultaneously.
In that fraction of a second, David caught their movement in his peripheral vision. His footwork transitioned instantly. Under the spotlight of the Mercedes-Benz Arena, he didn't pass.
He drew a perfect circle on the spot.
Whoosh! A collective gasp erupted from the stands. From the fans' perspective, it looked like David had simply performed a 360-degree pirouette, yet Gentner and Schwab were left lunging at thin air, as if lured by a siren's song.
Before they could even process the humiliation, David was already driving toward the heart of the defense.
"What on earth was that escape?" Fuss cried out. "Is he playing football or dancing the ballet? Rüdiger lunges in—beautifully played! He doesn't overcomplicate it; he finds the open man, Olić! David Qin loves a solo run, but he's never selfish! When the pass is on, he executes!"
On the pitch, Rüdiger was swearing internally. His teammates were supposed to be professionals, yet they'd abandoned their posts like amateurs. He sprinted back in a desperate recovery, but Ivica Olić had already adjusted his sights.
Bang! The ball screamed under the keeper's arm and rattled the back of the net.
0-2!!!
The Wolves were rampant, doubling their lead before the half-time whistle had even blown.
"Oh!—" The away end was a sea of surging green and white. The Wolfsburg faithful couldn't contain themselves. They looked at their 1.5 million euro "mascot" and saw a player who didn't just provide magic tricks; he had elevated their entire tactical ceiling.
"See! I told you!" a shirtless man shouted, waving his cap frantically. "I told you he'd bring us luck!"
"Shut up, Ron!" a fan nearby shouted back. "I remember three months ago you called David a 'car salesman' sent to help VW sell SUVs in China!"
"That was—that was the media!" Ron's face turned beet red as he scrambled for an excuse. "Those damn journalists slandered our boy without checking the facts! I'm going to go home and report them all!"
A breeze from the Neckar River ruffled David's dark hair as he flashed a confident, brash grin. He winked at De Bruyne. "Kevin, honestly, could you do that?"
That momentary flash of inspiration—the "spinning circle"—was his favorite highlight of the season so far. He almost felt like he deserved a new nickname: The Carousel.
"I couldn't do the spin," De Bruyne replied, his shy exterior hiding a fierce competitive streak. "But I can give you the pass. The one that hugs the turf with that wicked outward curve."
"True," David shrugged. De Bruyne's "grass-cutter" crosses were a freak of nature; the technical detail required to pull them off was immense. Still, David preferred his own method. Why? Because it looked cooler.
Olić watched the two youngsters chatting and felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. He had once been the protagonist of the pitch, but now he was happy to be the "Poacher-in-Chief," feeding off the genius of two elite playmakers. He felt a bit guilty; how many strikers would kill to have these two serving up "biscuits" on a silver platter?
During the half-time break, the CCTV broadcast back in China was buzzing.
"Let's look at the first half—both goals come directly from David Qin," He Wei said, his voice brimming with pride. "The first was a nutmeg on Rüdiger followed by a chip over Kirschbaum. There's a certain... looseness to his game."
He paused, searching for the word. "It's like he isn't playing in the Bundesliga; he's playing a pickup game in a park. Look at his face—he's actually smiling."
"And the second goal," Liu Jiayuan added. "That turn reminded me of Xavi. The 'La Pelopina.' It looks simple, but the timing required to bypass a double-team like that is world-class."
Both commentators shared a look of pure anticipation. If David could bring this form to the Asian Cup, the possibilities were endless.
The second half began with David playing like a man possessed. He was clearly "in the zone," which spelled disaster for Florian Schwab. The defender simply couldn't touch him.
In the 63rd minute, Wolfsburg pushed down the right wing. Vieirinha broke through and found Perišić, who cut into the box and played a cut-back for De Bruyne. The Belgian wound up for a shot but instead disguised a pass to the left side of the six-yard box.
David was there, sprinting at full throttle, locked in a high-speed duel with a high-stepping Rüdiger. Who was faster?
David timed his slide perfectly, meeting the ball an inch before the defender. As he rolled across the turf, he looked up to see the ball nestled in the corner.
0-3!!!
David ran to the away section, cupping his ears and asking for more noise. But then, he saw his number illuminated on the fourth official's board. He was being substituted. He didn't mind; he'd been warned about his minutes. He walked off to a thunderous ovation from the traveling Wolves.
His exit didn't slow the team down. Caligiuri came on like a man on fire, and Perišić continued to terrorize the wings. Final score: Stuttgart 0-5 Wolfsburg. Rüdiger was left questioning his life choices.
Shortly after the match, a bombshell hit the German sports news: Stuttgart manager Armin Veh has been sacked. Former Schalke and Hamburg boss Huub Stevens has been appointed to save the sinking ship.
------------
If you want to read ahead, head over to: [email protected]/HappyCrow
As always, thank you for the support, the comments, and those precious power stones!