"Ricardo!"
David Qin's shout rang out from ahead, and Ricardo Rodríguez didn't hesitate. He delivered a crisp, decisive pass.
With Leverkusen's entire formation pushed high up the pitch, David scanned his surroundings as he collected the ball. He found himself in a vacuum—there wasn't a defender within ten yards of him.
Roar! Bolstered by the deafening cheers of the Wolfsburg faithful, David carried the ball nearly twenty yards before Tin Jedvaj finally managed to scramble back and block his path. But in the midst of this surging counter-attack, David simply played a quick lay-off, executing a perfect wall-pass one-two with Kevin De Bruyne that left Jedvaj grasping at shadows.
Through on goal! A clean breakaway!
On the sidelines, both Dieter Hecking and Roger Schmidt sprang to their feet, their faces etched with polar opposite emotions.
Under the gaze of thousands, David bore down on Bernd Leno. As the keeper abandoned his line to close the angle, David performed two lightning-fast stepovers, shifting his center of gravity with predatory grace.
"He's got me!" Leno lunged instinctively to one side, only to realize the deception a heartbeat too late.
A feint.
Sure enough, the moment Leno committed to the ground, David snapped the ball back inside. From there, the finish was academic. A simple, composed stroke into the yawning net.
3-1!!!
"That's two!" After scoring, David sprinted toward the die-hard supporters in the stands, igniting a literal explosion of joy with a fierce uppercut celebration.
The thunderous ovation that followed felt powerful enough to lift the stadium roof and carry it into the clouds.
"Beautiful! You've got a hell of a future, kid—way more than that lot from Leverkusen!"
"Today, you're the king of the Volkswagen Arena!"
"When the market values update, you're going to blow kid!"
The praise from the Wolfsburg fans was relentless. David soaked it all in, his grin widening until it practically touched his ears. After all, who doesn't love being the hero? Moreover, the visceral rush of scoring a goal was on an entirely different level than providing an assist. Deep down, a voice told him this was only the beginning; the future held even greater heights.
"58th minute! Wolfsburg tears through the Leverkusen defense with a lightning counter-attack!"
"David Qin! At just seventeen years old, he nets his second Bundesliga goal!"
"It won't be long before this rising star makes the entire footballing world sit up and take notice!" He Wei's voice trembled with genuine excitement.
On the pitch, camera flashes strobed incessantly, capturing every detail of the moment. As the Wolfsburg players returned to their half with jubilant faces, the Leverkusen squad looked utterly dejected. Having the momentum they gained from their goal snuffed out so quickly was a crushing blow. Son Heung-min didn't even dare look toward the stands, terrified of seeing disappointment on his girlfriend's face.
Once the match restarted, Hecking moved quickly to manage the game. He used all his substitutions at once, bringing on Aaron Hunt for David Qin, Marcel Schäfer for Junior Malanda, and Timm Klose for Naldo. It was a clear signal: he was locking the door and protecting the lead with defensive reinforcements.
"QIN!!! QIN!!! QIN!!! QIN!!!"
As David walked off the pitch, thirty thousand fans rose as one, their rhythmic chanting a tribute of the highest order. David waved back enthusiastically. Though his kit was stained with grass and mud, his face glowed with a bright, sun-drenched smile. The Wolfsburg fans felt his infectious energy, as if they were basking in the glow of a new dawn.
"Great job, kid." Aaron Hunt greeted him with a hug and a high-five.
Hunt was a seasoned veteran, a man who had captained Werder Bremen for twelve years before following sporting director Klaus Allofs to Wolfsburg. His status in the locker room was immense, and his tactical discipline was beyond reproach.
"Don't go dropping the ball out there now!" David joked.
Hunt smirked. "Relax. I might not be a magician, but I know how to hold a line." He was the quintessential "water carrier"—an industrious player. While he couldn't replicate David's flair or highlight-reel dribbles, his defensive reliability was exactly what the team needed for the final act of the match.
David laughed and took a towel from the substitute keeper, Max Grün. He was satisfied with his shift. He had exploited Leverkusen's defensive frailties, made key breakthroughs, and walked away with a goal and an assist—though he still felt a twinge of regret that Dost hadn't converted that other chance.
Crash!
A roar from the crowd snapped David out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Aaron Hunt meeting a marauding Donati with a ferocious sliding tackle, taking man and ball in one sweeping motion. Donati collapsed, clutching his shin and howling in pain—it was hard to tell if it was genuine injury or desperate theater.
"He's getting payback for you," Grün said with a knowing smile.
If you looked for the most protective player in the Wolfsburg squad, it wasn't Gustavo or Naldo—it was Aaron Hunt. He had grown up in the area, the son of die-hard Wolfsburg fans, and had spent his youth in their academy before a twist of fate took him to Bremen. Despite his twelve years away, his heart had always remained with the Wolves. Now that the team was finally on the right track with talents like De Bruyne and David Qin, Hunt wasn't about to let anyone derail their progress.
After the referee brandished a yellow card, Donati struggled to his feet. He took two limping steps before signaling to his bench that he couldn't continue. As he trudged toward the dugout, he caught David Qin giving him a playful, cheeky wink.
Provocation!
Donati was consumed by a silent, impotent rage. He took two deep breaths and sat on the bench, snapping at the team doctor, "Can you hurry it up?" Today was officially the worst day of his professional career. He had been turned inside out by a teenager and then crunched off the pitch. The doctor, unimpressed by the attitude, applied a bit too much pressure, eliciting a sharp yelp from the defender.
Leverkusen continued to press, but Hecking—a manager forged in the fires of relegation battles—had organized the defense perfectly. With the fresh defensive legs, the midfield had become a wall of steel.
As the final whistle approached, Son Heung-min grew desperate. He called for the ball from Castro and tried to take on the defense alone. He managed to bypass Schäfer, but was immediately intercepted by a towering Naldo. Had Dost been a yard faster, the scoreline might have even increased on the break. Leverkusen's attacks proved fruitless, and soon, three long whistles signaled the end.
Tweet-tweet-tweet!
Full time. Wolfsburg 3, Leverkusen 1. A clinical victory in Round 4.
To the strains of the club anthem, the Wolfsburg players gathered to thank the fans.
"David, want to swap shirts?"
David was heading for the tunnel when he heard his name. He turned to see Son Heung-min.
"Of course." David smiled and pulled off his jersey, revealing a lean, powerful physique.
Seeing David's conditioning, Son felt a sense of clarity. Talent alone doesn't give you muscles that look like they were carved from stone. Every player who makes it to this level has to bleed in training. His slight sense of resentment vanished.
"I look forward to our next meeting," Son said, taking the shirt.
"I do too. But next time, I don't think it'll be in the league," David replied pointedly. He had recently spoken with Alain Perrin, who confirmed he would be called up for the Asian Cup in January.
"Then I'll see you in Australia." Son felt a flicker of renewed competitive fire. What he couldn't achieve at the club level, he would try to settle on the international stage.
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