Cristiano Ronaldo planted his feet wide, fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rigid, standing before the wall with a posture that radiated arrogance and certainty.
Seeing that stance, Yang Yang made a quiet vow.
The moment he had the chance, he would drill free kicks relentlessly.
He would patch every flaw.
Erase every weakness.
He would not lose to anyone.
The referee's whistle pierced the tension. Ronaldo exploded into his run-up, striking through the ball with violent precision.
A sharp thump echoed through Old Trafford as the ball whipped off his boot. It curled over the wall in a tight arc, dipping toward the top corner.
But Reina had anticipated it.
During the wall setup, he had studied Ronaldo's angles, body shape, and preferred strike zones. As soon as the Portuguese winger struck it, Reina launched himself horizontally, fingertips brushing the ball and forcing it over the bar. The crowd groaned—danger averted, but a corner conceded.
A collective breath escaped the Liverpool players.
Old Trafford answered with a frustrated sigh.
Liverpool reorganized quickly for the corner, fully aware of how narrowly they'd avoided punishment. Manchester United pushed numbers forward: Ferdinand, Vidic—everyone who threatened in the air.
Yang Yang stayed high for a possible counterattack, but he didn't relax for a second. He had no idea when a clearance might suddenly be sent his way; all he could do was stay alert and coiled like a spring.
Giggs trotted over and swung in another delivery, once again targeting Cristiano Ronaldo.
This time, Reina read it early. He surged forward through the crowd, elevated above the pack, and claimed the ball firmly before anyone else could reach it. Without hesitation, he sprinted to the edge of the box and fired a quick, accurate rollout toward Xabi Alonso.
The Spanish midfielder understood instantly—no need to even raise his head.He drove a long, arcing pass toward the left flank.
"Liverpool break forward immediately—counterattack!"
"Xabi Alonso sends a long diagonal to the left from the top of the box!"
Yang Yang had held his run to avoid offside. As soon as the pass left Alonso's foot, he burst into motion. Gary Neville reacted with a slight delay, but his early start hardly mattered—Yang Yang's acceleration was superior, and the two converged on the dropping ball almost simultaneously.
A scenario Old Trafford had seen repeatedly in the first half. Usually, the home fans didn't panic—Yang Yang often found himself isolated, while United had three defenders prepared: Neville, Carrick, and Evra. On paper, more than enough.
But this time was different.
Yang Yang reached the ball at the same moment Neville did, but he was positioned inside, giving him the better angle. Neville, already on a yellow, couldn't risk full contact. Yang Yang slid his body across, shielding him, then flicked the ball forward with a deft header.
Three years of constant work—first touch, juggling, control with every surface of the upper body. Even under pressure, it was instinct.
The ball obeyed, altering its flight and dropping ahead of him. Yang Yang surged after it.
Neville grabbed at his shirt in desperation, careful not to make it blatant, slowing him just enough for Carrick to arrive covering the space behind.
Two against one.
Yang Yang wasn't shaken. He had already seen the shapes of their movement clearly through his God Vision.
Carrick accelerated to intercept, but top-end speed had never been his strength. The ball fell between them. Yang Yang was already exploding forward, timing his step perfectly. He lifted his left foot, cutting beneath the ball with a delicate, instinctive motion.
In that instant, everything sharpened.
He felt every shift in the defenders' balance, every ounce of pressure behind him.
The touch on the instep was familiar—something he had repeated thousands of times, day and night.
He didn't have Cristiano Ronaldo's elaborate footwork, but his feel for the ball ceded nothing to anyone.
The chip was flawless. The ball hopped neatly over Carrick's head and dropped behind him.
Yang Yang killed his speed with a controlled deceleration, pivoted, and spun through the gap, turning toward the loose ball skidding into space behind Carrick.
Evra had already sprinted back to the edge of the penalty area. The moment he saw Yang Yang flick the ball over Carrick, he froze for a split second in disbelief.
The former Monaco left-back understood Yang Yang's threat better than anyone. Instinct took over. He hurled himself forward, closing the distance at full speed. If he had to foul outside the box, so be it — he simply could not allow Yang Yang to cut inside with freedom.
As Yang Yang landed after bypassing Carrick, he immediately sensed that driving straight ahead would invite Evra's full-body collision. The Frenchman might take a booking, but Liverpool's precious counterattacking chance would evaporate on the spot.
What now?
Yang Yang's eyes darted toward Van der Sar's position.
The Dutch goalkeeper, nearly thirty-six, had lived an extraordinary arc: rising at Ajax under Van Gaal, struggling during his short spell at Juventus, then restoring his reputation at Fulham before earning a late-career move to Manchester United.
Tall at 1.97m, sharp in his reactions, exceptional in his reading of danger, confident off his line, and unusually capable with the ball at his feet — Van der Sar embodied the modern Dutch goalkeeping philosophy. For years he'd been shaped by Frans Hoek, Van Gaal's renowned goalkeeping coach at Ajax. Hoek later refined Reina and Valdés at Barcelona; his fingerprints were everywhere in modern goalkeeping.
All of this — fragments learned from Liverpool's analysts, reinforced by Yang Yang's own study — flashed through Yang Yang's mind in a single breath.
He knew for certain: if he nudged the ball into the box and tried to sprint around Evra, Van der Sar would sweep it up long before he could arrive.
So he had to change direction again.
Football shifts by the second — your decision must shift with it.
The ball dropped. Yang Yang planted his right foot, toe angled sharply inward. As the ball descended, he brushed it with the inside of his instep, knocking it across his body and into the lane Evra had abandoned by committing forward.
Evra couldn't stop. His momentum carried him straight past the play. Yang Yang pivoted smoothly, gliding behind him and surging toward the top of the arc.
This was Yang Yang's territory — his ideal shooting range. It should have been Evra's zone to guard, but the Frenchman had overcommitted and left it completely open. Scholes was the nearest defender now, but Yang Yang knew he would reach the ball first — and finish the move.
All of this unfolded within heartbeats — tiny, barely perceptible details.
Yet those details combined into a moment that stunned more than 70,000 Manchester United supporters inside Old Trafford.
They saw Yang Yang blow past Gary Neville despite the captain tugging at his shirt. Then, while still absorbing that contact, he reached the ball first and lifted it over Carrick with that impossibly soft touch. And then — with a movement even more delicate — he redirected the dropping ball inside and slipped past Evra as if gliding through water.
Carrick had just turned when Evra, unable to brake after being beaten, crashed straight into him, sending both tumbling to the turf.
Yang Yang chased down the redirected ball and struck a first-time volley the instant it skimmed off the turf!
Van der Sar did charge out, but he hadn't anticipated Yang Yang escaping Evra so cleanly. The moment he saw the strike, he launched himself sideways, arms stretching desperately — but the shot came low, flat, and viciously quick, arrowing toward the right side of the goal.
Even at full extension, the Dutch goalkeeper couldn't reach it.
"GOOOOOOAAAAAAL!!!"
"Yang Yang! Yang Yang! Yang Yang!"
"Absolutely unbelievable!"
"That is magnificent!"
"Oh my word — what a goal!"
"He was surrounded by three Manchester United defenders — Neville dragging him, Carrick right there, Evra flying in — and he still finds a way through! A lift over Carrick, a gorgeous inside touch to beat Evra, and then a thunderous volley past Van der Sar!"
"Liverpool are level at Old Trafford!"
"A stunning, stunning goal!"
"A moment of pure brilliance from Yang Yang!"
…
After scoring, Yang Yang dropped to his knees on the pitch, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, and roared toward the sky.
He could hardly believe it — he had actually done it.
Everything he'd just executed had been pure instinct, shaped by countless hours of training and the rhythm of the moment. He hadn't planned any sequence or mapped out a specific move. How could he? He never knew in advance exactly how his opponents would react.
But precisely because it all came from instinct — from feel — it produced something breathtaking. Something electric.
Even the Manchester United supporters inside Old Trafford erupted with involuntary shouts of shock and admiration.
Liverpool's players, still near their defensive line, sprinted forward in unrestrained excitement.
On the touchline, Benítez leaped into the air, shouting with a burst of emotion rarely seen from him, unable to contain the joy boiling over.
"Oh, that is sensational! That absolutely counts — he's beaten three Manchester United defenders before scoring!"
"And remember the discussion this week… the subtle little exchange between him and Cristiano Ronaldo — intentional or not, Yang Yang has answered once again!"
"What a moment! What a response! He's matched Ronaldo's challenge right here at Old Trafford!"
"And what a goal to equalize! One–one — Liverpool right back in the match."
"Let's watch it again — the lift over Carrick, the glide inside past Evra, and then that volley… simply outstanding individual skill."
"There's a touch of Bergkamp in that — that icy control, that sudden, impossible change of direction, and a finish to crown it."
"An incredible solo goal from Yang Yang!"
Even as rivals, Manchester United fans were buzzing.
No one could stay unmoved by a goal like that — it was too astonishing, too pure, too beautiful.
And this brilliant strike didn't just drag Liverpool level; it struck directly at United's morale, especially the defenders and midfielders involved. Three of them had converged, and none could stop him. To concede such a goal — so elegant, so devastating — was painful.
Cristiano Ronaldo covered his face with both hands, his expression twisted in frustration.
…
Sometimes, a brilliant goal, a perfectly timed tackle, or a rock-solid defensive stand can ignite a team's spirit — especially a team as emotionally charged as Liverpool.
Yang Yang's stunning one-against-three finish sent a surge of energy through the entire squad. After their wild celebration, Liverpool's players returned to formation with a renewed, aggressive edge. Even when defending deep, they immediately looked for chances to spring forward, launching wave after wave of counterattacks toward Manchester United.
First came Yang Yang's surge through the center. Spotting a fleeting opening, he cut sharply inward and, without hesitation, unleashed a strike from outside the penalty area.
The shot was fast, sudden, and completely unexpected — a jolt that stunned Old Trafford.
Van der Sar reacted with veteran sharpness, springing low to parry it away and preventing a second Liverpool goal.
Liverpool pressed on. From the resulting corner, Daniel Agger rose and met the delivery with a powerful header from ten meters out, only for the ball to skim just over the bar.
Two consecutive threats, both close. Liverpool's momentum only grew.
Yang Yang became increasingly active. He no longer confined himself strictly to the left; he drifted centrally, even to the right, constantly repositioning to exploit gaps. His movement had full recognition from his teammates now — they adapted naturally, treating his roaming as part of the team's structure.
Everything felt seamless, as if Liverpool had long accepted this evolution in his role.
Crouch dragged defenders away, creating space. Gerrard stepped into the opening and slipped a sharp pass toward the central-right channel. Yang Yang darted diagonally from the middle toward the right edge of the penalty area, beating the Manchester United back line to the ball and firing instantly with his right foot.
Van der Sar once again flew across goal, stretching at full length to turn it aside — another decisive stop to keep Manchester United alive.
Corner kick!
…
Yang Yang pushed himself up from the turf inside the penalty area, brushing grass clippings off his arms as he tried to catch his breath.
By then, Liverpool's aerial specialists were already arriving.
Carragher, Daniel Agger, Mohamed Sissoko, Crouch, Kuyt…
Yang Yang couldn't help noting how many tall players Liverpool had when they all gathered at once.
Gerrard positioned himself just outside the penalty area, ready to charge in and snatch a decisive strike from the second ball.
Xabi Alonso walked to the corner flag, placed the ball down carefully, pressed his boot into the turf behind it to steady the ground, then stepped back with deliberate calm.
Yang Yang drifted to the edge of the box, standing shoulder to shoulder with Gerrard.
"Where are you aiming this time?" he asked quietly.
His pulse was racing. He felt a heat under his skin, that sense of momentum and clarity that came after his goal. He wanted more — he needed to score again.
Gerrard gave him a surprised look.
Yang Yang's heading ability had always been a weakness. Even during his prolific Ajax years, he hadn't scored a single header. Pundits joked constantly about his "crippled" heading. Because of that, Liverpool's staff usually structured corners around avoiding him as a primary aerial target — keeping him at the edge for second balls instead.
But Gerrard clearly heard something different in Yang Yang's tone.
He wanted to make a run into the box. He wanted to contest the header himself.
"Far post," Gerrard said, eyes shifting toward Xabi Alonso.
"Give me this chance," Yang Yang insisted, eager, almost pleading.
This should have been Gerrard's run, his header to attack — but Yang Yang was desperate to try.
Gerrard blinked, surprised again, but nodded. "Alright. But if you score, you're buying dinner."
"You're the captain — you decide the place," Yang Yang grinned back.
Their conversation was quiet enough that no one else heard. To United's defenders, Gerrard was still the obvious threat.
Both he and Yang Yang stood near the arc, but Manchester United's attitude toward them was completely different. Gerrard drew heavy attention; Yang Yang was treated like a decoy when it came to aerial duels.
Everyone "knew" Yang Yang couldn't head the ball.
Perhaps out of respect for his earlier goal, United assigned Scholes to track him, but the veteran midfielder clearly paid more attention to the second-ball zone than to marking Yang Yang tightly.
The referee's whistle blew — the signal everyone had been waiting for.
Gerrard instantly broke free from his marker, darting toward the near-post zone.
Crouch and Liverpool's other tall players surged toward the middle and front-post areas.
Carragher and Agger barreled in as well, throwing their bodies into United's defensive line to disrupt their marking.
Chaos flooded the penalty area.
Xabi Alonso whipped the corner in — not toward the front post as many expected, nor toward the crowded central zone. He aimed for the far post.
"Watch out!" Scholes reacted first, shouting the warning.
But when the United veteran spun around, a cold realization hit him — Yang Yang, who had been right behind him, had vanished.
A terrible feeling sank into his stomach.
In crowded corners, the smallest lapse in attention creates goals.
The penalty area was pure disorder now; spotting Yang Yang was impossible.
Only Yang Yang knew the path he took — a deliberate drop backward, looping toward the left corner of the box, before exploding forward at full sprint the moment Alonso struck the ball.
Evra, stationed at United's far post, saw the cross curling in his direction and prepared to head it clear.
But before he could even jump, a shadow swept in front of him.
A Liverpool player burst past from behind — leaping high, impossibly high, towering above him.
Evra was only 1.73 meters tall to begin with, nearly ten centimeters shorter than Yang Yang. But the height difference wasn't what froze him.
It was the jump.
Yang Yang had sprinted more than ten meters before launching himself upward with every ounce of strength. Evra forgot to jump altogether; he simply tilted his head back and stared, stunned, as Yang Yang rose above him like a figure suspended in midair.
So high… he's jumped so high…
Yang Yang had already read the ball's flight and fall. Combined with his explosive leap, he knew he could meet it first.
His entire body arched — legs trailing behind, torso bent backward, forming a powerful C-shape in the air.
For a heartbeat, everything felt weightless.
As the ball descended, Yang Yang tightened his core muscles. His torso snapped forward, legs stretching down, neck driving through the movement. All the power generated from his jump rippled through his body, funneling into his forehead.
The ball struck cleanly.
Headers like this looked painful, but they weren't — the ball was already dropping.
And Yang Yang was no longer simply meeting it.
He was attacking it.
A high-altitude bomber diving at full force.
The ball crashed downward and slammed toward Manchester United's goal.
Van der Sar had no time to react. His instincts pushed his right hand outward, reaching for something he could never reach.
The ball skimmed off the inside of the left post and buried itself into the net behind him.
…
"Goooooooooooooooooooal!!!"
"Incredible! Is this Yang Yang?"
"Is this really the Yang Yang we knew?"
"A header! Yang Yang has actually scored a header from a corner to put Liverpool in front!"
"1–2!"
"No one could have predicted this!"
"Yang Yang has beaten Manchester United with a header — unbelievable!"
After landing, Yang Yang clenched both fists, lifted his head toward the sky, and let out another primal roar, unleashing every ounce of adrenaline and joy pulsing through him.
The feeling was indescribable — exhilarating, overwhelming, intoxicating.
So this was what a header felt like.
No wonder tall strikers celebrated them with such ferocity.
Especially in the instant he rose into the air — it truly felt as though he had become a bird sweeping above the pitch, looking down on everything beneath him.
When he caught sight of Evra's stunned expression, and then saw several Manchester United players staring with their mouths hanging open in disbelief, the urge to scream in triumph nearly tore out of him.
But before he could even shout, Liverpool players crashed into him from all directions.
"Brilliant goal!"
"Mate, that header was unbelievable!"
"I didn't expect you to get up that high!"
"With that header? Anyone who says you can't head the ball — I'll smack them myself!"
…
"It's truly a staggering goal."
"Not only the Manchester United players — even Liverpool's own players look stunned."
"Yang Yang has almost never scored this type of header. He did get one at the World Cup, and another in the Champions League not long ago, but neither of those came close to the shock of this one."
"Evra was left frozen beside him — and honestly, who can blame him? Nearly everyone in the stadium was stunned by that header."
"Yang Yang's goal feels like a direct answer to Cristiano Ronaldo's header that put United in front earlier. The battle between these two young stars… it's starting to look like one of the defining rivalries of the future Premier League."
…
Cristiano Ronaldo was utterly stunned. He had never imagined Yang Yang would answer him like this.
A week ago, he'd scored by dribbling past three defenders — and Yang Yang replicated it, doing it against Chelsea of all teams.
And now, in this derby, Yang Yang had once again dribbled through three United players. It was as if he were declaring openly: Three players? That's nothing. I can do it whenever I want.
Then came the second blow.
Cristiano Ronaldo had scored a brilliant header earlier in the match. Yet not even forty minutes later, Yang Yang responded with a header of his own — and one even more spectacular.
How could the Portuguese not take it personally?
He was already convinced: this guy was deliberately challenging him.
The thought made Ronaldo's jaw tighten until his teeth creaked.
…
But the truth was that Cristiano Ronaldo had completely misunderstood.
Yang Yang had been working on his heading technique for quite some time, but matches rarely presented him with clear opportunities to use it. Recently, he'd scored a header and finally found a bit of confidence. When the feeling returned tonight, he attacked the ball on instinct.
Even the equalizer — the one-against-three goal — had been pure reaction, a burst of intuition. There was no time to think about dribbling past one defender, two defenders, or three. It simply happened.
As for competing with Cristiano Ronaldo — yes, Yang Yang was aware of the comparisons, and part of him wanted to prove himself. But it wasn't the core of his game. What mattered to him was improvement, performance, and helping Liverpool win.
Still, when he saw Cristiano Ronaldo glaring at him with eyes practically spitting fire, Yang Yang understood the misunderstanding instantly — and didn't bother correcting it.
An emotional, frustrated Cristiano Ronaldo would only help Liverpool more in the second half.