Yang Yang drove his Porsche Cayenne from Sefton Park to Melwood early that morning.
When he pulled into the parking lot, he immediately noticed something odd — several staff members and players around turned their heads and stared at him with curious, almost mischievous looks.
"What's going on?" Winston Bogarde asked as he got out of the passenger seat, raising an eyebrow.
Yang Yang shook his head, equally puzzled. "No idea."
The two walked into the training facility together. Yang Yang headed straight for the locker room, as usual.
He was always one of the earliest to arrive — before most of the squad and long before training officially began. At this hour, only the coaching staff and a handful of players were present. Among them was Fabio Aurelio, who had also started arriving early for special sessions with Bogarde to strengthen his muscles and prevent recurring injuries.
As Yang Yang stepped into the dressing room, he noticed Aurelio staring at him with that same strange expression.
"Why is everyone looking at me like that today?" Yang Yang asked, genuinely confused.
"You really don't know?" Aurelio blinked in surprise.
"Know what?" Yang Yang frowned, even more curious.
"Last night — the Premier League match. Manchester United against Tottenham. Didn't you watch it?"
Yang Yang shook his head with a small, embarrassed smile. "No, I was exhausted. Went to bed early."
Aurelio let out a helpless sigh. He had heard about Yang Yang's discipline, but seeing it in action still amazed him.
No wonder he's always improving.
"Well," Aurelio said, picking up a folded newspaper from the bench, "then you'd better calm yourself before you see this."
Yang Yang chuckled lightly. "Don't worry. I'm always calm."
The Brazilian handed over the paper — The Sun, the one publication Yang Yang disliked the most.
He frowned slightly the moment he saw the logo.
He had never liked The Sun. Their infamous "Page Three" alone was enough reason; their idea of glamour was the complete opposite of his taste. But more than that, their constant attempts to link him with models and social gossip irritated him. It was cheap noise that didn't fit his personality at all.
Still, the bold headline across the front page caught his eye:
"Challenge!"
Beneath it was a large photo of Cristiano Ronaldo — kneeling on the Old Trafford turf, arms spread wide in celebration.
Aurelio explained as Yang Yang glanced over it.
"Last night, United beat Tottenham 1–0. Ronaldo scored the winner — dribbled past three defenders before finishing. This morning, every paper and website is talking about it. He's everywhere."
He watched Yang Yang's face carefully, expecting some flicker of irritation, pride, or rivalry.
But Yang Yang's expression didn't change. Calm, unreadable, just as always.
"Look here," Aurelio continued, pointing to another photo. "That celebration — it's almost identical to yours. Everyone's saying it's intentional. The Sun even claims it's a direct response to their coverage comparing the two of you this week."
Yang Yang nodded slowly. "I see."
Then, without any visible reaction, he folded the newspaper and set it aside.
"Alright," he said evenly. "After morning training, I'll watch his goal."
And with that, he turned and started toward the exit.
Aurelio stared after him, dumbfounded. That's it?
Before he could say anything, Yang Yang called over his shoulder, "You'd better hurry up — I'm not waiting for you."
Aurelio blinked, startled, then scrambled to grab his gear. "Ah! Coming!"
He jogged after Yang Yang, still shaking his head.
The Brazilian had expected jealousy or fire.
Instead, all he saw was quiet focus — the kind that always made him realize why Yang Yang was different.
…
…
Cristiano Ronaldo's apparent provocation toward Yang Yang spread through England like wildfire.
Within hours, every sports network and newspaper had picked it up.
The debate came quickly — which goal was better?
Ronaldo's dazzling solo run, dribbling past three Tottenham defenders before finishing with precision, or Yang Yang's thunderous long-range strike that found the net just ten seconds into the Merseyside Derby?
It became a matter of taste — artistry versus power, flair versus decisiveness.
Both were extraordinary in their own right.
Fans divided instantly into two camps.
On one side were those who praised Ronaldo's footwork and technique — "the pure entertainer." On the other, those who admired Yang Yang's control, timing, and execution — "the complete professional."
It wasn't just about football anymore. It was about identity, loyalty, and pride.
Online forums and fan sites lit up with arguments. Message boards, blogs, and sports call-in shows were flooded with passionate debates from fans everywhere.
"Ronaldo's goal was more difficult — three men beaten, one-on-one with the keeper!"
"No, Yang Yang's was cleaner. Ten seconds after kickoff, from distance — pure precision!"
The rivalry had turned into a national talking point.
Sensing a perfect opportunity, the British media pounced.
Television panels, radio talk shows, and sports columns began framing the story as a new era duel — two young stars destined to define the Premier League. Analysts drew comparisons, dissected stats, even speculated about their personalities and work ethic.
It was good business — and they all knew it.
At first, Yang Yang had no intention of responding. He viewed it as media noise — the kind of circus that came and went every week in English football.
But the frenzy refused to die down.
By the following afternoon, as Liverpool prepared to fly to the Netherlands for their Champions League group-stage opener against PSV Eindhoven, the scene at Melwood was chaotic.
The press conference was supposed to focus on the European match ahead — Benítez's tactical approach, the squad's condition, and the challenge of playing away in Eindhoven.
Instead, dozens of journalists had shown up for one reason only: Yang Yang.
By the time training ended, the outer area of the pitch was packed with reporters, cameras, and photographers. They crowded near the barriers, shouting questions and trying to get his attention.
Even Liverpool's press officer, Ian Cotton, was momentarily taken aback by the scale of it. He hurried to the scene, waving for order as the security staff stepped in.
The attention wasn't just intense — it was overwhelming.
And all of it revolved around one question:
Would Yang Yang respond to Ronaldo's challenge?
...
"Yang, it looks like you can't hide from this anymore."
Steven Gerrard chuckled as they wrapped up training.
Around them, the rest of the players grinned. Some looked envious; others looked concerned.
After all, having half of Britain's media camped outside Melwood because of you — that was the kind of attention reserved for true stars. Yang Yang and Cristiano Ronaldo had reached that level.
"Still," Gerrard added, "remember who we are — Liverpool. Manchester United are our greatest rivals. Don't be polite with them. We're all behind you."
"Yeah, Yang," Carragher barked, his tone fierce as ever. "Don't hold back. Smash him!"
The players burst into laughter, but the message was clear. This wasn't just about two young stars — it was Liverpool vs. Manchester United. Pride was on the line.
And Liverpool players, by nature, didn't shy away from a fight.
Moments later, the press officer, overwhelmed by the media chaos outside, hurried onto the pitch to seek help from Benítez. After a short exchange, Paco Ayestarán approached Yang Yang, smiling as always but with a determined look.
"Yang," he said quietly, "you'll have to face them."
Yang Yang sighed. "I figured as much."
Ayestarán gave a small, knowing grin. "Listen, I know you Chinese are all about courtesy, but this is England — the Premier League. You can't step back. Go out there and hit back."
Yang Yang couldn't help but laugh. The gentle, mild-mannered Spaniard suddenly sounded like a street fighter.
Still, he nodded. "Alright."
He walked calmly toward the crowd of reporters waiting by the barrier. The press officer followed closely behind, ready to keep order.
The questions started flying immediately.
"Yang! What do you think of Cristiano Ronaldo's goal last night?"
"I just watched it this morning," he said evenly.
"No — we mean, what do you think of it?"
"It was brilliant," Yang Yang replied with a faint smile. "A wonderful goal, exciting to watch."
"Do you think your ten-second goal against Everton was better, or his?"
Yang Yang shrugged lightly. "Hard to say. I'll let the fans decide."
A ripple of laughter moved through the reporters, but they pressed on.
"What about his celebration? Many people say it was provocative — a direct response to you."
"Provocative?" Yang Yang smiled. "I don't think so. Maybe he just liked my celebration and decided to copy it. I haven't applied for a patent yet — anyone's free to use it."
The journalists laughed again, but they weren't satisfied.
"Still, everyone believes his goal was a message to you."
Yang Yang spread his hands. "That's for you to say, not me. I don't know anything about that."
"Sir Alex Ferguson mentioned Ronaldo's goal afterward," one reporter continued. "He said Ronaldo's already one of the Premier League's best and entering the golden stage of his career. What do you think?"
Yang Yang nodded slightly. "Then I'll congratulate him. Honestly."
But the reporters weren't done.
"From a professional standpoint, which goal was harder — yours or his?"
Yang Yang paused for a brief moment, realizing the trap.
He smiled faintly. "I wouldn't say either was difficult. I've scored that kind of dribble before in the Netherlands. As for him — I'm not sure he could score from a long-range shot ten seconds after kickoff like I did."
A few reporters blinked in surprise, their pens stopping mid-note.
Yang Yang continued casually, his tone still calm. "Of course, if I get the chance, I'd like to dribble past three players in the Premier League too — like I did back then."
He ended it there, smiling politely before giving a small bow. "Gentlemen, that's all for now. You can head to the press room — the official conference will start soon."
Then he turned and walked away, as composed as he had arrived.
For a moment, the journalists just stood there, whispering among themselves.
Then one of them suddenly froze, realization dawning. "Wait a minute… we've been played!"
Heads turned.
"What do you mean?" someone asked.
Another reporter smirked as it clicked. "He's set Ronaldo up."
Now everyone understood — and the laughter that followed was half disbelief, half admiration.
Yang Yang's words sounded polite, even humble — but in truth, he had turned the tables completely.
Dribbling past three players? Difficult, yes — but entirely possible, especially for someone of Yang Yang's caliber. He could easily replicate it in the future, even in a cup match against a weaker opponent.
But scoring within ten seconds of kickoff? That was nearly impossible. It required perfect timing, coordination, and luck — something that might never happen again, even for Yang Yang himself.
By twisting the comparison, he had quietly placed himself in an unbeatable position.
If Ronaldo tried to respond again, he'd be chasing the impossible.
The reporters exchanged glances, chuckling.
"How clever," one murmured.
Another grinned. "Cunning, calm, and completely in control. That's Yang Yang for you."
...
"Haha! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"
After training ended, the locker room was buzzing. Teammates crowded around Yang Yang, eager to hear exactly how he'd handled the reporters.
When Yang Yang replayed the conversation and explained his response, the entire group burst out laughing.
"Unbelievable," Xabi Alonso chuckled, shaking his head. "If Cristiano Ronaldo hears that, he's going to lose his mind!"
The Spanish midfielder was known around Melwood for his intelligence — always calm, always reading. Whether it was analyzing tactics or reading a novel in the lounge, Xabi had a sharp mind. So when even he was impressed, everyone knew Yang Yang's answer had been something special.
"You're too cunning, mate," Carragher said, pulling a mock grimace. "Remind me never to argue with you again!"
The laughter grew louder. None of them could've come up with such a clever counter on the spot, and they knew it. Yang Yang had turned a media trap into a masterpiece of deflection.
Even Paco Ayestarán looked impressed, grinning from ear to ear. "You've done it again," he said. "That's the kind of answer the British press will never forget."
They all knew what it meant: Ronaldo was cornered.
The Portuguese had thrown the first stone with his celebration. Now, Yang Yang had quietly handed him an impossible challenge.
If Ronaldo backed down, he'd look weak.
If he tried to respond, he'd be chasing the impossible — a goal in the first ten seconds of a match.
Everyone in the room realized how perfectly Yang Yang had played it.
Scoring after dribbling past three defenders? Difficult, yes, but not unthinkable. Especially for someone of Yang Yang's technical ability.
But scoring in the opening ten seconds again? That wasn't just rare — that was luck, timing, and alignment all at once.
So soon, the locker-room banter shifted toward a new challenge: how Yang Yang could dribble past three defenders to complete his side of the rivalry.
"Forget the ten seconds," Carragher laughed. "We'll just make sure you get your three-man run. We'll set it up for you!"
That drew a new round of laughter, but Xabi Alonso turned thoughtful.
"Realistically," he said, "it's about space and defensive positioning. Against tight teams, that kind of run is almost impossible. You need to exploit gaps — defensive errors, transitions, counter-attacks."
He leaned forward, explaining like a professor to his students. "So there are really only two situations where it can happen: one, during a quick transition from defense to attack — before they regroup. Or two, against teams with weaker defensive structure."
The others nodded. He was right.
Over the past few years, continental coaches like Wenger, Mourinho, Benítez, and Houllier had transformed the Premier League's old-school, physical style into something far more tactical. Clubs like Chelsea, Everton, Portsmouth, Liverpool, Aston Villa, and Manchester City had become defensively disciplined.
But others still clung to the old-fashioned, open approach — Tottenham, Blackburn, West Ham, Fulham — sides that attacked with freedom but left holes at the back.
"Even Arsenal's defense isn't perfect," Alonso added with a wry smile. "And United? They've still got weaknesses at center-back. That's why they lost the title last season."
The discussion turned lively again. Players debated, analyzed, and joked all at once, tossing around tactical ideas like seasoned coaches.
And through it all, Yang Yang listened, smiling quietly.
He was beginning to realize something. With the right timing, and in the right match, dribbling past three — maybe even four or five defenders — wasn't impossible at all.
It would take precision, creativity, and courage. But compared to scoring within ten seconds of kickoff?
It was infinitely more achievable.
And the idea alone lit a spark in him.
...
...
Yang Yang had no idea what kind of expression Cristiano Ronaldo might have after hearing about his counterattack through the media.
In truth, he didn't really care.
Liverpool had far more pressing matters to focus on.
The UEFA Champions League group stage was about to begin, and their opening match was an away trip to the Netherlands to face PSV Eindhoven. Immediately after that, Liverpool would head to London for a massive clash against Mourinho's Chelsea at Stamford Bridge.
Even before the season started, Benítez had openly expressed frustration with the fixture list. Almost all of Liverpool's key matches against direct title rivals were away from home during the first half of the campaign.
For a side aiming to compete for the Premier League crown, it was a brutal schedule.
Now, with the Champions League underway, Liverpool were entering a period of constant rotation and two-front warfare.
And Benítez, ever the strategist, made his intentions clear.
When the lineup for the Eindhoven match was released, it stunned the media and local fans alike.
Yang Yang, Gerrard, Xabi Alonso, and Hyypiä — all sat on the bench. Peter Crouch wasn't even included in the squad.
Instead, Liverpool's starting XI featured Pennant, Boudewijn Zenden, and Luis García in midfield, with Dirk Kuyt leading the line — a familiar face in the Eredivisie, returning to Dutch soil.
It was a clear tactical signal.
Benítez wasn't gambling — he was managing risk. The real priority was the upcoming league fixture against Chelsea.
If Liverpool could escape Eindhoven with a draw, it would be mission accomplished.
As the match kicked off under the floodlights of the Philips Stadion, it quickly became clear how difficult that task would be.
PSV, roared on by their home crowd, started aggressively. Their passing was crisp, their pressing sharp. For the first twenty minutes, they dominated possession — close to 65% of the ball — and looked intent on breaking Liverpool down.
But Liverpool's defensive organization held firm.
The back four — Steve Finnan, Carragher, Daniel Agger, and Stephen Warnock — stayed disciplined and compact, refusing to be pulled out of position. Mohamed Sissoko, stationed just ahead of them, was everywhere — tackling, intercepting, covering every inch of midfield ground.
With the defense holding strong, Liverpool slowly began to find moments to counterattack.
The contrast in styles became fascinating to watch: PSV controlled the rhythm and possession, but Liverpool looked the more dangerous side whenever they broke forward.
Despite their dominance on the ball, PSV failed to create a single clear scoring chance in the opening period. Their attacks were neatly constructed but blunt at the finish, unable to pierce the red wall in front of them.
In contrast, Liverpool's transitions carried threat — fast, direct, and calculated.
Benítez's plan was working perfectly.
...
Yang Yang sat on the bench, watching the game unfold before his eyes — and couldn't help but sigh.
This is the difference in strength.
When he was at Ajax, every match against PSV Eindhoven felt like a war. They had to give everything just to compete. Every goal, every point, had to be fought for with blood and sweat.
But now, sitting with Liverpool, he could see the contrast clearly.
Even with half the starting lineup rested, Liverpool weren't inferior at all. They had less possession, yet created more danger. PSV controlled the ball, but Liverpool controlled the match.
This was the true gulf between Europe's top leagues and the Eredivisie.
PSV had once dominated the Netherlands with their attacking trio, even sweeping through Serie A opponents in Europe — but against a Premier League powerhouse, they looked harmless.
The so-called Dutch prodigy Ibrahim Afellay barely made an impact. Every time he touched the ball, Liverpool's defenders closed him down immediately.
"If we were at Anfield, this wouldn't even be close," Gerrard said beside him with quiet confidence.
Yang Yang nodded in agreement. He felt the same.
"Our problem right now is just the counterattack," Xabi Alonso added, watching the field carefully. "If Crouch were here, we could've gone long to him, fought for the second ball, and probably scored by now."
Yang Yang smiled. He could see it too — Liverpool were a class above.
After the interval, PSV tried to raise the tempo. In the 59th and 61st minutes, they finally carved out two threatening moments, forcing saves from Reina.
"It's almost my turn," Xabi said with a grin as he started his warm-up.
The plan had been set before kickoff — he'd come on for Mohamed Sissoko midway through the second half to manage minutes and preserve freshness for the upcoming Chelsea clash.
Yang Yang leaned toward him, lowering his voice. "The Eredivisie is obsessed with man-to-man marking. If they're pushing high, that's perfect for us. Make them move — stretch their shape. Get your teammates to rotate and intersperse runs. Once you pull them out of position, the space will open."
Xabi gave a firm nod. "Got it."
Moments later, Paco Ayestarán called for him. Xabi trotted over to the touchline, received a few final words from Benítez, then glanced back to see the manager look toward Yang Yang.
Benítez held Yang's gaze for a moment — then gave a subtle nod.
When Xabi came on, the effect was immediate.
Liverpool began to dictate the rhythm. The midfield looked calmer, more deliberate, every pass carrying purpose. They strung together possession, drew PSV out, and started constructing real chances.
Within five minutes, Kuyt slipped between the centre-backs and unleashed a low drive that forced the goalkeeper into a desperate save.
Ten minutes later, Benítez made his second move — Gerrard replaced Robbie Fowler.
In the 74th minute, Finnan whipped in a cross from the right; Kuyt rose highest and nodded just wide. A minute later, Luis García struck from the edge of the box — another close call.
The momentum was clearly shifting. Liverpool's pressure mounted as time ticked away.
By the 82nd minute, Benítez made his final substitution.
Yang Yang replaced Luis García.
As he jogged onto the pitch, the Philips Stadion erupted in boos. The PSV fans hadn't forgotten — they still remembered how he'd tormented them in the Eredivisie.
Fear mixed with resentment.
They remembered what he could do.
And soon, they would be reminded again.
Benítez had given him one simple instruction: keep moving, drag defenders out of shape, create space — and if the chance came, make it count.
Yang Yang's first touch nearly did just that. Taking a pass on the left flank, he surged forward, beating his marker with ease before cutting inside, only for Alex — PSV's powerful centre-back — to clear with a desperate slide.
But three minutes later, the moment arrived.
Xabi Alonso spotted Yang Yang wide on the left and delivered a sharp diagonal pass. Yang controlled it instantly, then drove inward, bursting toward the top of the box.
Kuyt, sensing the cue, dropped back from the forward line, dragging Alex out of position.
Yang crossed his body with a feint, touched the ball diagonally with his right foot — and slipped it perfectly into the onrushing Gerrard's path.
Liverpool's captain didn't hesitate. One touch to steady himself, one to strike.
The shot was crisp, clinical, unstoppable.
The net rippled.
1–0!
In the 86th minute, Gerrard broke the deadlock — assisted by Yang Yang.
The Liverpool bench erupted in celebration, fists pumping, voices shouting in unison.
Benítez turned to Ayestarán with a small smile. "Exactly as planned."
Yang Yang raised his arm and pointed toward the captain, who ran over and embraced him with a grin.
At Philips Stadion, the boos turned to silence.
Once again, Yang Yang had haunted Eindhoven.