"Hey!"
David Qin tracked back, collecting a sharp hand-throw from Yan Junling. He cushioned the ball with his chest, flicked it deftly over the lunging Zhang Linpeng, and immediately carved a through-ball into the open channel.
Snap! The ball arrived with pinpoint accuracy on the left flank, rolling perfectly into the stride of an unmarked Wu Lei.
Having spent so much time training alongside Kevin De Bruyne, David had clearly picked up some of the Belgian's habits. As the saying goes: Walk with the wise and become wise. His passing range was beginning to show a newfound maturity.
This time, Wu Lei didn't hesitate. He took one touch to steady himself and unleashed a stinging drive. However, Wang Dalei in goal was equal to it, stretching his frame to the absolute limit to claw the ball away.
Wu Lei looked back at David with a grimace. "My one-on-one finishing... it's a work in progress."
"I know," David replied with an understanding smile. "Don't sweat it."
In the Chinese football community, there are two famous sayings regarding their forwards: If you give Wu Lei's chances to Gao Lin, he'd probably score them; but if you replaced Wu Lei with Gao Lin, the chance wouldn't have existed in the first place. The exchange highlighted exactly why they complemented each other.
Halfway through the scrimmage, Alain Perrin swapped David over to Team A. He had seen enough. David's creativity was like a spring of fresh water, capable of irrigating the parched lands of the National Team's attack and breathing life into their stale patterns. This was exactly what the squad lacked.
As for the defense? In the previous Asian Cup qualifiers, the Chinese team had conceded 354 turnovers—an average of 118 per game. Even the technically superior Japanese side had conceded 385. More importantly, the Chinese defense leaned heavily on one man: Wang Dalei.
According to AFC statistics, Wang Dalei led the qualifiers with 13 crucial saves. He had been the hero of the 2004 AFC U-17 Championship, winning the title and the Player of the Year award, but his flamboyant personality had often kept him off the team sheet. If not for Perrin's bold decision to start him, he might still be warming the bench.
"Remember! Our defense must be a collective unit! That is the only way to compete!" Perrin barked, his voice echoing across the training pitch. "What does 'collective' mean? It isn't just the backline. It's the strikers pressing, the midfielders closing passing lanes. Everyone is a gear in the machine. And keep the ball moving wide—it's safer."
Perrin paused, looking at David, and realized something. "Actually, David, ignore that last part. I trust your ability to hold onto the ball."
His trust in David was absolute, and the reason was simple: Arsène Wenger. If the man Perrin viewed as the ultimate benchmark of footballing wisdom believed in the kid, who was he to hesitate? This brief scrimmage had only confirmed what the tapes showed.
"I won't over-dribble, Coach," David started, but Perrin cut him off, pointing vigorously at the tactical board.
"No! I need you to demand the ball. I want you to dictate. When we push possession into their half, we are essentially moving our defensive line forward. If we lose it, we squeeze them immediately. We swarm the ball until they can't breathe."
Perrin broke the tactics down into the smallest possible bites, almost trying to spoon-feed his players. He knew the limitations. As Gao Lin once quipped: Lippi is a university professor, but we are just high schoolers; we can't always grasp the advanced theory. Perrin, however, had experience with smaller clubs and a background as a PE teacher. He knew how to communicate with this squad.
November 14th, 8:45 PM. Nanchang Olympic Sports Center Stadium.
The stadium was a cauldron of noise, a literal sea of humanity.
"CCTV! CCTV!" He Wei's voice crackled with the familiar energy of a big-match broadcast. "Live from Nanchang for this 2014 International A-Level Friendly! China versus New Zealand!"
"This is a vital warm-up for the 2015 Asian Cup, but for many fans, it feels like a grudge match. Beneath the surface, though, this game carries massive weight for next year's World Cup qualifiers. Seedings for 2018 are based on world rankings. After wins against Kuwait and Paraguay, China has climbed from 97th to 88th in the world—9th in Asia. We are one spot away from being a seeded team."
"And David Qin! He is in the starting lineup! I know the fans at home have been waiting for this moment just as much as I have. We all hope for a perfect debut for the young man."
He Wei could hardly contain his excitement. He had cheered for David's goals in the Bundesliga, but this was different. Seeing the endless waves of red, the fluttering flags, and hearing the opening chords of the anthem... it was a shared pride.
In the tunnel, David stood at the back of the line, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Playing for the country. Four simple words, yet they represented the summit of every player's dream. He was no exception. He took a long, deep breath, puffing out his chest as he adjusted the captain's pennant on the sleeve of the man in front of him.
Beside him, Chris Wood glanced over. As a striker for Leicester City, he had heard the noise surrounding David Qin. "The Rising Star." "The Prodigy." He'd seen Wolfsburg frustrate Everton in Europe. The young Kiwi felt a spark of competitive fire. He wanted to see what David could do without his world-class club teammates to back him up.
The referee led them out.
Thirty thousand fans screamed in unison, the rhythmic drums acting as a heartbeat for the stadium. The sound hit David like a physical wave. He felt his breath hitch as he looked out at the boiling ocean of red. Every face was etched with passion, with a desperate hunger for victory. That red seemed to ignite a fire in his own soul.
"There's nothing like a National Team match," David whispered, pressing his hand against the embroidered crest on his chest, feeling the rough texture of the stitching.
As the camera panned across his face, the nation watched. Fans who were used to seeing him in the green and white of "The Wolves" realized he looked even better in the deep red.
David felt a lump in his throat. As a boy, he had dreamed of this. Life and work might have buried those dreams under layers of cynicism, but standing here, it all came rushing back.
Now, he wasn't just playing for the fans. He was playing for the boy he used to be.
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