As David Qin traversed thousands of miles to return to Wolfsburg, the Chinese football scene was left reeling, the impact of his debut still echoing like a detonated bomb.
People's Daily: "The National Team secured victories in both November friendlies. Young prospect David Qin delivered a masterclass, enchanting fans nationwide with his signature flair and technical brilliance."
Observer Network: "Looking beyond the scoreboard, these victories represent a spiritual elevation for Chinese sports. Win or lose, they serve as a reminder that the road ahead for Chinese football remains long and arduous."
Dongqiudi: "Absolute carnage! A debut hat-trick and a clinical strike against Honduras. At just seventeen, David Qin has proven he doesn't just shine in the Bundesliga—he dominates on the international stage!"
Amidst the feverish expectations of his countrymen, David Qin finally touched down in Wolfsburg. Waiting for him at the airport was Kevin De Bruyne.
"Kevin! Long time no see. I've gotten even more handsome, haven't I?" David joked, offering a warm embrace.
"David, shouldn't that be my line?" De Bruyne countered as he popped the trunk.
"People call you 'cute,' Kevin. They never call you handsome. Besides, do you know how viral your childhood memes are right now?" David pulled out his phone, flashing a screen at his teammate. "Come on, give me the face! Just one more for the sticker collection!"
De Bruyne: "..."
He honestly couldn't remember why he had ever made those expressions as a kid. The secondhand embarrassment was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
"I caught your international matches," De Bruyne said, expertly changing the subject. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself out there."
"Of course. Representing your country is a point of pride, isn't it?" David smiled.
"It is," De Bruyne sighed softly. "My dream was always to play for Belgium, though things back home are... complicated."
Due to historical and political tensions, Belgium was a nation divided by language and culture—a rift that bled onto the pitch. Between the Flemish from the north, the Walloons from the south, and the children of immigrants, the National Team was often a powder keg. If the players weren't so world-class, they might never have made it to a World Cup.
De Bruyne himself had German heritage and could have applied for German citizenship as a teenager. In the end, his heart remained with the Red Devils.
"Kevin, just give it your all so you don't leave with regrets," David said, looking his friend in the eye. "That's what I told myself before I left. Now, I'm telling you."
With the international break over, the big leagues roared back to life. The day before the match, David finished his training session and retreated home. After a quick shower, he pulled up his system interface.
His template integration was creeping upward, rising from 70% to 78%. His skill proficiencies were also climbing, particularly his finesse shot, which was now nearing the level of his Dribbling Mastery.
"I wonder what happens when the integration hits 100%?" David mused, his anticipation growing.
The next day, David and his teammates boarded the bus for Gelsenkirchen in North Rhine-Westphalia. Their opponents for the round: Schalke 04.
Schalke was a storied club, though they were famous for being the "perpetual runners-up," having finished second in the Bundesliga six times. In the 2000-01 season, they were dubbed the "Four-Minute Champions" after a heartbreaking series of events in the final minutes of the season cost them the title.
David watched through the window as they entered the city once known as the "City of a Thousand Fires" due to its coal and coke industry. Today, it was the "City of a Thousand Suns," as the coal mines were long gone. The gleaming glass "waterfall" staircase of the Science Center stood as a symbol of the new era—a futuristic building that had won the German Architects' Award in 1995.
Even the wildlife seemed at home; flocks of ducks and pigeons played in the small ponds surrounding the tech hub. Soon, the bus pulled up to the Veltins-Arena.
"A 190-million-euro stadium really hits different," David muttered, eyeing the electronic parking and traffic control systems. He suddenly felt like the Volkswagen Arena was a bit "budget" by comparison. Surely Volkswagen had more money than a brewery?
"Do we have the Schalke lineup?" David asked.
"We do," assistant coach Ton Lokhoff replied. "Huntelaar and Choupo-Moting up top. A young kid named Sané is on the right wing, and Atsuto Uchida is at right-back."
David took the tablet and scanned the names. Schalke's squad was formidable, and their average age was even lower than Wolfsburg's. Wellenreuther, Goretzka, and Meyer were all born in 1995. Leroy Sané was a '96 kid—he wouldn't even turn nineteen until January.
"So many young talents," David remarked.
The bus went dead silent. Everyone looked at him with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief.
Ton Lokhoff thought to himself: You're seventeen, playing at a world-class level, and you're calling nineteen-year-olds "young talents"? I can't tell if you're being modest or just incredibly cheeky.
"Oh, right," David smirked, catching their drift. "I guess I'm one of them, too."
Crash! A sudden commotion outside caught their attention. A few fans were brawling on the sidewalk, beer bottles in hand, while others cheered them on.
"David, watch out for the Schalke fans," Luiz Gustavo warned. "They've got some hardcore ultras."
Last season, after Schalke was knocked out of the Champions League, their goalkeeper Timo Hildebrand had received death threats. "You idiot! Just go kill yourself, you're useless!" His car had been trashed, and he'd nearly been assaulted in person.
"Point taken," David thought. Note to self: never join a club with fans who treat a loss like a blood feud.
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