Previously, under Gérard Houllier's management, Liverpool's atmosphere had been defined by unity and close-knit camaraderie. Yang Yang had often heard people say that Houllier was the type of coach who blended naturally with his players, someone who could sit among them, joke with them, and make the dressing room feel like a family.
But everything changed the moment Rafael Benítez arrived.
As captain Steven Gerrard once put it, Benítez was the sort of man who, even if you met him face-to-face in a narrow corridor, would never stop to ask how you had been recently or whether your family was doing well.
"If he says anything," Gerrard had joked, "it's only to tell you what you did poorly in the last match and what you must correct in the next one."
Yang Yang could only agree.
"Sometimes I feel like football is the only thing in his life," Gerrard had added.
The distance created by the new manager soon reshaped the entire club environment. One of the most obvious changes was the constant rotation of roommates during away trips. The coaching staff had explained to Yang Yang that this rule existed to help players become more familiar with one another. But behind the scenes, he had heard a different story.
According to some players, when Benítez first took charge, there had been a tightly bonded clique inside the dressing room. Changing roommates regularly was allegedly a method to break that group apart and prevent any internal factions from forming.
No one truly knew the exact reason, and Benítez himself never explained it. However, the rule remained and slowly became part of Liverpool's routine.
After returning to England from the match against PSV, the team immediately headed south to London. Liverpool's next fixture was an away game against Chelsea, scheduled for another 13:30 kickoff. It was a frustrating time slot for any team: awkward for preparation, difficult for the players' rhythm, and mentally draining.
To ensure proper rest and preparation, Liverpool travelled a day early and checked into a London hotel. For this trip, Yang Yang's assigned roommate was Xabi Alonso.
...
Whether on or off the pitch, Xabi Alonso was a true gentleman. He had a quiet, cultured temperament, the type who enjoyed spending evenings with a thick book in hand. He often read titles that gave Yang Yang a headache—philosophy books, historical essays, dense classics—yet Alonso seemed to savour them, as if he genuinely had the makings of a future philosopher.
Yang Yang, meanwhile, maintained his old habit of studying opponents before every match, a routine he had developed back at Ajax and never abandoned. Benítez's staff respected this greatly and always allowed him to bring his laptop on away trips. Before each game, Pako Ayestarán would prepare a complete opponent report for him, just like Ruud Krol used to do in the Netherlands. From these reports, Yang Yang could clearly feel how meticulous Liverpool's preparation under Benítez truly was.
The first time he experienced this was during the first leg of the Champions League third qualifying round against Maccabi Haifa. The Israeli side was obscure, far away, and notoriously difficult to gather information on. Yet Benítez's staff had still assembled a thick dossier along with several DVD clips.
The report was nearly forty pages long. It listed every player in Maccabi Haifa, their strengths and weaknesses, their defensive mechanisms, their attacking triggers, their tempo in transitions, and the tactical adjustments they tended to make in different phases of a match. It was so detailed that Yang Yang had been genuinely impressed. And this was only an underdog from Israel.
Chelsea, the opponent they would face the next day, had an even larger file: over sixty pages, accompanied by more than a dozen DVDs.
However, the coaching staff never dumped all this information directly onto the players—it would only overwhelm them. Truthfully, very few players enjoyed reading tactical documents. Most were hopeless with long texts, and that included Gerrard himself. So the staff always condensed the reports, selected the essential points, and presented everything in a short twenty-minute tactical meeting.
Yang Yang, however, always prepared the night before the match, which meant he had access to more detailed material.
Inside the hotel room, Xabi Alonso sat quietly on his bed reading, immersed in his book. Yang Yang, meanwhile, was at his laptop reviewing the opponent file while chatting through QQ with Su Ye, who was far away in China. She had been in a very good mood recently.
Both her audition rounds had gone well, and the production teams seemed highly satisfied.
"Our instructor said these two projects are rare major productions," Su Ye typed, clearly excited. "Getting a role in either would be great for my long-term development. They also said they'll respect my three-condition contract. But before signing, nothing is guaranteed."
Yang Yang replied with a small smile, telling her confidently that everything would work out. He reminded her that once she confirmed the role, he would have to find time to visit the set. But he also understood how competitive the entertainment industry was. Some actors even invested their own money into productions just to secure roles. Until the contract was finalized, nothing was certain.
"Don't worry, at the very least, it's a good learning experience," Su Ye wrote, remaining calm and optimistic.
Recently she had been rehearsing with a Chinese opera theatre troupe, and her schedule had been arranged smoothly.
...
Ayestarán stopped by on his nightly room checks, knocking on the door to remind the players to get some rest. Yang Yang immediately closed his laptop, went to brush his teeth and wash his face, and then lay down on his bed, ready to enter the Dream Training System once he fell asleep.
His ability to fall asleep instantly had already become a source of shock throughout Liverpool. Almost every teammate who had ever roomed with him complained the next morning—half envious, half resentful—because while they tossed and turned, Yang Yang would be asleep within seconds, snoring softly like someone who carried no pressure at all.
Just as he was drifting off, the room quiet and dark, Xabi Alonso, who had barely spoken all evening, suddenly broke the silence.
"A few days ago, Gerrard said he had a feeling we'd reach the Champions League final this season," Alonso murmured from the next bed. "He said it felt like destiny calling us… testing us."
Yang Yang opened his eyes for a moment, surprised. Then he chuckled.
"He should switch careers and become a fortune-teller."
Alonso let out a soft laugh in response. "Maybe. But I hope he's right."
Yang Yang didn't answer for a few seconds. In truth, that hope was shared by everyone. After all, this was the Champions League—the pinnacle every professional footballer dreams of.
Even though he had already won it once, Yang Yang longed to lift the trophy again, this time not as a young substitute, but as an undisputed core player. Last season's elimination in the semi-finals had left a bitter taste, a regret he wanted to erase completely.
"Winning the Champions League twice in three years…" Alonso whispered, a faint heat in his voice. "That would be incredible. It would mean the start of a new dynasty. People would remember us in football history."
Last season, Liverpool's Champions League run had been unremarkable, but with Yang Yang joining the squad this year, the team's attacking issues had eased significantly. Confidence had returned. Fighting spirit had reignited. Even someone as calm and scholarly as Alonso carried fire in his bones.
After that, the room fell quiet again.
Yang Yang lay awake for a moment, staring at the dark ceiling, his eyes reflecting a faint gleam. His desire for the Champions League was no weaker than anyone's. In fact, it burned even stronger.
He had pushed himself relentlessly in training, dedicated himself in every match, and endured pressure without complaint—all for that day when he could stand at the very top of Europe, not as a supporting name, but as one of the main protagonists. He wanted to walk onto the stage of the awards as a champion. He wanted fans all over the world to remember his name and the way he played.
But after a long, quiet breath, he closed his eyes again and sank into the Dream Training System.
Daydreams were useless.
Action was what mattered.
...
...
"There is basically no one of note on Chelsea's wings!"
On the morning of the match, Liverpool held their pre-game tactical meeting in the hotel, and Benítez opened with a blunt assessment.
With Damien Duff transferring to Newcastle and Arjen Robben injured before the season even began—missing all four league matches so far—Chelsea's flanks had effectively lost their threat.
"I can say with certainty," Benítez continued, "that Chelsea will focus everything through the middle. Shevchenko will start, Drogba is indispensable, and they'll almost certainly use a two-striker partnership. They'll overload the centre, but with little danger coming from wide areas. That will slow their efficiency. And that is our opportunity."
Dirk Kuyt would be rested for this fixture after playing the full 90 minutes against PSV, but Peter Crouch and Yang Yang would both start. On the right, Benítez had chosen Jermaine Pennant.
"Gerrard, Xabi Alonso, Momo Sissoko—we lose nothing in midfield battles. But when we attack, we must stretch the pitch. Make full use of our width."
Xabi Alonso and Sissoko were set as the double pivot, with Gerrard given freedom as a roaming midfielder in the final third.
Yang Yang's role needed no explanation. His threat on the left—whether crossing from the byline or cutting inside to finish—made him Liverpool's most dangerous attacking weapon, and the single player Chelsea would prioritise defensively. His influence this season had already changed the team's entire attacking structure.
Pennant's inclusion had its logic as well. He had been the Premier League's top crosser the previous season. Benítez's instruction for him was simple: attack Boulahrouz's flank and deliver decisive balls into the box.
The full-backs' tasks were equally direct: push forward aggressively. Steve Finnan on the right and Fabio Aurelio on the left were both comfortable going forward and stable defensively, perfectly suited for a match that required width and constant overlapping support.
Benítez then moved to Chelsea's likely selection. Terry, Carvalho, and Ashley Cole were locked in. The only question was the right-back who would face Yang Yang. The staff believed Mourinho would choose Dutch defender Khalid Boulahrouz.
"He's more familiar to you than Paulo Ferreira," Benítez explained. "You faced him several times in the Eredivisie. He's been in excellent form—Mourinho even called him Mr. Zero Error. I want you to break that reputation tonight. Your job is to carve open Chelsea's defence from his flank."
Yang Yang hadn't thought much about Boulahrouz in the past, but after studying the detailed scouting report, he knew exactly what to expect. The Dutch international, formerly of RKC Waalwijk and Hamburg, was strong, disciplined, and tactically sharp.
Still, Yang Yang nodded calmly, confidence steady and unwavering.
"Don't worry," he said with a faint smile. "After tonight, he won't be Mr. Zero Error. He'll be Mr. Errors."
It was exactly these high-profile matches that stirred something fierce inside him. Stamford Bridge, with all its tension and hostility, only made him more eager to perform.
And he wanted to prove a point.
Months earlier, Roman Abramovich had brushed aside any interest in him, saying he preferred Shevchenko, who was "on another level."
Tonight, Yang Yang intended to make him regret that decision—show him not only how wrong he had been, but that Shevchenko was not the superior choice.
Not then.
Not now.
...
...
In the roar of Stamford Bridge, Chelsea launched their assault from the very first whistle.
As Benítez had predicted, Mourinho did not field any true wingers. Arjen Robben, still recovering after missing four matches, sat on the bench. Yet despite lacking their usual width, Chelsea were at home, and they pressed forward aggressively.
The opening ten minutes produced no shots from either side, but Chelsea repeatedly forced their way into Liverpool's penalty area. Liverpool responded with five successful tackles, four committed fouls, and an early yellow card—clear evidence of how intense and physical the match had already become.
Then, in the eleventh minute, Chelsea created their first major chance.
From a free kick on the right, Frank Lampard curled the ball into the box. Carvalho rose first and knocked it down, Ballack flicked it on with a header, and Shevchenko darted in three metres from goal for a point-blank header.
Daniel Agger, marking Shevchenko, couldn't win the initial position, but he stayed between the Ukrainian striker and the goal. Shevchenko's header smashed into Agger's chest on the goal line before the Dane hooked it away under pressure.
Once again, replacing Sami Hyypiä when needed, Agger showed impressive composure. As the danger passed, Liverpool players applauded him, rushing over to give him firm high-fives for the crucial block.
During the defensive set piece, Yang Yang had been left high up the pitch, ready to spring into a counterattack. As Liverpool's attacking spearhead, his defensive responsibilities consisted mainly of front-line pressing and cutting passing lanes. But even he could feel something was wrong.
Liverpool had barely touched the ball.
He didn't need statistics to know their possession was dreadful—likely under twenty-five percent in the opening quarter of an hour. They were being pushed back constantly, surviving rather than competing.
A threatening counterattack is necessary, Yang Yang told himself.
On the touchline, Benítez clearly felt the same, shouting instructions for the team to stop retreating and to push forward, especially through the flanks.
Liverpool finally strung together an attack.
Xabi Alonso spotted space and switched play diagonally to the left, sending the ball directly to Yang Yang and isolating him against Boulahrouz.
Yang Yang welcomed it. With his acceleration and sharp change of direction, he trusted himself against any full-back. He advanced slowly at first, drawing Boulahrouz in.
The Dutch defender watched him intently, refusing to commit. He backpedalled cautiously, tense and wary. Would Yang Yang cut inside for a shot? Drive down the line for a cross? With a player who was equally dangerous on both feet, Boulahrouz genuinely couldn't guess.
Just as hesitation crept into his mind, Yang Yang exploded.
To Boulahrouz, the figure in front of him suddenly blurred. Yang Yang feinted inside with his body and eyes, prompting Boulahrouz to shift defensively to block the cut-in.
But in that same instant, Yang Yang snapped the ball back onto his outside, bursting down the line instead.
The moment they made contact, Boulahrouz was already beaten—left behind by a clean, ruthless change of direction.
"Brilliant feint!"
"Yang Yang breaks through on the left!"
He accelerated into the penalty area and whipped a powerful cross toward the centre.
"Crouch goes up for the header!"
"Oh! Just over!"
Under heavy pressure from Carvalho, Crouch couldn't connect cleanly, and the ball sailed narrowly above the crossbar.
"Liverpool register their first shot of the match," came the commentary. "Yang Yang with a direct, forceful breakthrough on the left. Crouch couldn't steer his header down due to Carvalho's challenge."
Crouch raised a thumb toward Yang Yang in acknowledgement. The delivery had been perfect—driven, accurate, and begging for power. Only Carvalho's interference prevented a goal.
Immediately afterward, just a few seconds after Liverpool's previous chance, Xabi Alonso fired another diagonal pass to the left. The Reds surged forward again.
Yang Yang brought the ball under control and once more squared up to Boulahrouz—another isolated one-on-one on the flank.
But this time, he didn't wait.
There was no measured approach, no testing touches.
The moment the ball settled at his feet, he attacked.
A step-over with his right.
Another with his left.
Then a rapid chain of step-overs, his boots flickering over the ball, his shoulders and hips rolling in perfect rhythm. Each movement pulled Boulahrouz a fraction out of position, dragging the defender's balance back and forth.
The Dutch defender hesitated—just a heartbeat, but long enough.
He couldn't tell which feint was genuine, which direction Yang Yang would take.
That single moment of doubt was all Yang Yang needed.
He sold one last exaggerated left-foot step-over.
Boulahrouz reacted, shifting his weight to block the inside lane—
—and Yang Yang struck instantly.
With a sharp jab from his right foot, he knocked the ball straight between Boulahrouz's legs.
A clean nutmeg.
Then he exploded forward, surging past before Boulahrouz even finished turning. The defender was left frozen, caught between recovering his balance and sprinting, unable to do either in time.
"Fantastic step-overs from Yang Yang—and a brilliant nutmeg!"
"Boulahrouz beaten again! Yang Yang bursting inside!"
Breaking toward the edge of the box, Yang Yang saw Claude Makelele racing toward him, the veteran closing the gap with frightening speed. But Yang Yang didn't wait for him. Before Makelele could get close enough to block, Yang Yang unleashed a shot.
He struck through the ball with deadly force.
The effort flew like a cannon shell, ripping through the air and bending toward the top corner.
Cech reacted instantly, launching himself sideways and stretching out one hand. With an acrobatic fingertip push, he diverted the ball just over the crossbar.
The Czech goalkeeper crashed to the ground, scrambled back up, and immediately roared at his defenders—clearly shaken by the sudden long-range strike.
Yang Yang held his head in both hands in frustration, disappointment etched across his face. He knew how close that had been.
...
As Yang Yang grew increasingly active down the left flank, Liverpool's attack gradually gathered rhythm and confidence.
Not long after his earlier attempts, Xabi Alonso split Chelsea's defence with a perfectly weighted through ball. Peter Crouch latched onto it, but his strike smashed off the crossbar—agonisingly close to the opener.
In the twenty-first minute, Liverpool surged forward again.
Fabio Aurelio carried the ball down the left, pushing into Chelsea's thirty-metre zone before slipping a quick pass into Yang Yang's feet. Yang Yang dropped deeper from the frontline to receive, Boulahrouz tight behind him and Makelele shadowing the space nearby.
He didn't linger. With a controlled touch, he returned the ball directly to Xabi Alonso in the middle.
The moment he released the pass, Yang Yang spun sharply and accelerated forward.
Alonso kept possession briefly before releasing it back to Aurelio on the left. The Brazilian full-back lifted his head, scanning the movement ahead.
He spotted it immediately.
Yang Yang was sprinting in a straight line behind Chelsea's defence, accelerating past their line. At the same time, Crouch dropped backward from the frontline, dragging Terry with him.
The picture was perfect.
Aurelio struck a diagonal pass toward Crouch's head. The tall Englishman used his size brilliantly, backing into Terry and nodding the ball down into the left side of the penalty area.
The ball dropped into space—
—and Yang Yang arrived at full speed.
Boulahrouz and Essien chased him, one from the left, one from the right, all three players bursting into the penalty area almost simultaneously. But Yang Yang was first to the ball.
He shaped up for a first-time volley as it dipped.
Boulahrouz and Essien instantly hurled themselves forward to block the shot. Under their pressure, Yang Yang aborted the volley at the last split-second, cushioning the ball down instead. With a deft touch, he stopped it dead under his boot.
Both defenders were caught mid-lunge, their momentum carrying them past the line of the ball, blocking the direct path but leaving them unable to adjust or turn.
Yang Yang snapped his left foot over the ball, dragging it back half a step to create a sliver of space.
Essien twisted desperately, but he couldn't stop or recover.
Then Yang Yang shifted his weight and wrapped his right foot around the ball, curling a precise bending shot around both defenders.
The ball climbed and arced toward the far post.
Cech reacted instantly and dived, arms stretched fully—
—but he couldn't reach it.
The ball kissed the top-right corner of the net.
"Crouch with the knockdown—beautifully done!"
"Yang Yang! He's onto it first—!"
"OH, WHAT CONTROL! He's sat both defenders down!"
"He opens the angle… shoots—!"
"GOAL!!!"
"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!"
"Yang Yang breaks the deadlock for Liverpool!"
"Twenty-two minutes in, and Liverpool finally crack Chelsea's wall!"
"Look at that finish—right foot, whipped into the top corner!"
"Cech has been magnificent so far, but he had absolutely no chance with that one."
"Yang Yang didn't rely on power—just pure technique, perfect curl, perfect placement."
After Yang Yang scored, the whole person flew to the side of the court, spread his arms along the way, and kneeled to the corner.
Behind him, Liverpool players also chased after him, and surrounded him.
Several teammates such as Gerrard and Carragher even roared at the live TV broadcast, venting their inner excitement.
In front of the coaches on the sidelines, Benitez rushed out of the seat with excitement, screaming.
...
"That is a massive goal for Liverpool."
"You have to say, Benítez's game plan tonight has been incredibly precise."
"Chelsea dominated the opening fifteen minutes — they had seventy-plus percent of the ball, 77% to be exact — but they never turned that possession into clear chances."
"Liverpool absorbed the pressure, settled, and then responded brilliantly."
"Over the last seven or eight minutes, they've created several dangerous moments."
"Yang Yang already tested Cech with that sudden long-range effort earlier. You could feel Stamford Bridge hold its breath."
"And this goal came from a beautifully worked move down the left: quick passing, intelligent movement… Aurelio finds Crouch dropping in, and Crouch's header into space is perfect."
"But the moment of magic is Yang Yang's touch — the way he kills the ball under pressure from both Boulahrouz and Essien, wrong-foots Essien completely, and then curls it into the top corner with his right foot."
"It's a brilliant blend of Liverpool's rehearsed attacking pattern and Yang Yang's individual brilliance."
"And now Chelsea find themselves in real trouble."
...
At that moment, the live broadcast deliberately cut to the Chelsea chairman's box.
Roman Abramovich sat frozen, his expression dark and iron-blue, clearly displeased with how the match was unfolding. If Chelsea had held the advantage in the opening fifteen minutes, the momentum had shifted sharply in the following stretch. Liverpool had carved out several dangerous attacks, each more threatening than the last—and for the Blues, this was turning into a serious test.
And the most eye-catching player on the pitch was undeniably Yang Yang.
The Chinese winger had almost overturned the match on his own. Even though Abramovich had shown little interest in him in the past, he had to acknowledge—privately, if nothing else—that Yang Yang's goal had been stunning.
On the touchline, Mourinho's frown deepened.
He could see it clearly: Benítez had set up his side to strike right at Chelsea's weak points. Without true wingers, Chelsea lacked natural width. Their central zones were overloaded. Drogba and Shevchenko's positions overlapped far too often, while Ballack, Makelele, Lampard, and Essien had no clear separation of roles in midfield.
On paper Chelsea looked powerful, but in reality they were bloated and inefficient.
Seventy-seven percent possession, yet almost nothing to show for it in terms of danger. Meanwhile, Liverpool had produced multiple threatening attacks within seven minutes, moving quickly and decisively. And their left-sided forward—Yang Yang—had broken the deadlock at the crucial moment.
If Chelsea failed to equalize before halftime, the pressure on the home team would intensify dramatically.
But the question was: how?
Liverpool were balanced, disciplined, and tactically complete. Benítez's approach was built on compact defending and fast, incisive counterattacks. If Chelsea pushed higher, they would leave space behind—and Yang Yang would cut through that space like a knife, threatening the goal again and again.
So what was the solution?
How could Chelsea break Liverpool's structure without opening themselves up to another deadly strike from Yang Yang?
Mourinho, arms folded tightly, stared at the pitch with narrowed eyes.
What to do?