“Maybe I should give him more of the ball.”
That thought echoed in De Bruyne’s mind.
His style didn’t require heavy possession.
Every touch he made was a threat.
So, what he truly needed was someone who could break through defenses, hold the ball, and tear open space for him to operate.
Not far away, Makoto Hasebe furrowed his brow, a hint of regret surfacing in his heart.
He should have taken that Chinese player more seriously.
At first, because of his age and the online buzz, Hasebe had assumed Qin Ming was nothing more than a mascot—Volkswagen’s marketing gimmick.
But now, after that assist, all his contempt had vanished like smoke.
“There are still 25 minutes left.
We still have a chance—everyone, stay sharp!”
Hasebe’s voice cut through the noise.
His leadership was immense.
In Japan, he was an idol to many young players.
Being down by one goal didn’t faze him at all.
BEEP!
The match resumed with a Frankfurt kickoff.
The camera cut to the sideline—Dieter Hecking looked visibly relaxed, even slightly pleased.
Seems he hadn’t judged wrong after all.
Qin Ming was a player with great potential.
All he needed was a chance to prove himself.
Of course, he wasn’t flawless.
His overly technical footwork sometimes felt inefficient, bordering on ball-hogging.
But he was still young.
Hecking understood.
As long as the positives outweighed the negatives, it was worth it.
Hecking knew there was no such thing as a perfect player.
His job was to help players highlight their strengths, minimize weaknesses, and offer the right guidance.
On the pitch, Frankfurt stopped defending deep and pushed their formation higher.
After all, losing 1–0 or 2–0 earned the same result—zero points.
Might as well risk it all and turn zero into one.
Who knows?
Maybe even into three.
In the 78th minute, Frankfurt made a substitution: Chandler came on for Piazon.
The intention was simple—strengthen their wing attack and look for chances to combine with the center forward.
Hecking responded quickly, pulling Vieirinha back to help defend.
The Portuguese winger originally played full-back, so he was more than capable of holding his own defensively.
Frankfurt launched a few attacks, but none succeeded.
With only five minutes of regulation time left, they pressed harder.
A long ball from midfield reached Seferović, who held off Knoche and headed it back to Takashi Inui.
But Malanda crashed in, forcing Inui to miscontrol the ball three meters ahead.
Right then, Hasebe surged forward and met it with a long-range shot.
BANG!
The Japan national team captain’s strike was powerful.
But it came from too far—Grün had plenty of time to react and leapt up to collect it safely.
“Fall back!”
A bad feeling gripped Hasebe, but it was already too late.
Grün had already thrown the ball forward toward the left flank.
Under the floodlights, the spinning ball flew toward Wolfsburg’s number 13.
“That’s a high toss!”
“It’s tough to control with either head or foot—plus Ignjovski is right there!”
“What will Qin Ming do?”
Liu Jiayuan’s voice rattled like a machine gun, firing off lines before the ball even landed.
Ignjovski, hungry like a tiger, had already envisioned the whole scene.
He’d time his tackle during Qin Ming’s first touch, win the ball, and launch a quick counterattack down the flank.
With Wolfsburg mid-transition, their defense was full of gaps.
If he made it to the baseline, whether he shot or crossed, it could lead to a goal.
Earlier, he’d been humiliated by Qin Ming’s dribble and labeled a liability.
Now, he was ready to redeem himself.
But Qin Ming didn’t know about Ignjovski’s internal drama.
He calmly accelerated toward the descending ball.
As sunlight streamed down, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulder—and the ball bounced perfectly to the center.
WHOA!!!
The stadium erupted with gasps.
A shoulder pass!
Rarely seen on a football pitch.
Ignjovski froze.
That…
was not part of the script.
His savior dream?
Shattered.
Now he risked becoming the unfortunate soul in every replay.
“Unbelievable!”
“Qin Ming just used his shoulder to deliver a pass—found De Bruyne on the run!”
“De Bruyne adjusts slightly…”
“And goes for the long ball!”
CRACK!
Under the floodlights, the ball drew a beautiful arc through the sky.
It dropped behind Frankfurt’s high backline into open space.
Bendtner!
The crowd roared as he sprinted toward the falling ball.
King of Confidence or not, he had some ability.
Why else would Wolfsburg sign him?
And hey, in Pro Evolution Soccer’s golden era, the three broken strikers were Bendtner, Agüero, and Benzema.
At 193 cm tall, he wasn’t clumsy at all—Wenger had once deployed him as a winger.
De Bruyne’s pass was perfect.
He didn’t even need to worry about being caught.
Facing Frankfurt’s rushing keeper, Bendtner chose a confident chip—and even struck a pose afterward.
CLANG!!!
Before stunned Wolfsburg fans, the ball smacked squarely off the crossbar—and bounced right into Trapp’s arms.
“CTM BENDTNER!!!”
“He blew a golden one-on-one!
What was he thinking?!”
“Was that supposed to be a Balotelli impression?!”
Liu Jiayuan nearly lost it on-air.
Wolfsburg’s counter had been masterful—Qin Ming’s imaginative shoulder pass, De Bruyne’s inch-perfect assist…
And then Bendtner ruined it all.
Boos echoed through Volkswagen Arena.
No wonder there’s a Chinese saying: “Cheap things aren’t good.”
After all, Wolfsburg got Bendtner for free from Arsenal.
He was so embarrassed, he could’ve dug a hole and jumped in.
Then came the angry voice:
“What were you doing?!”
“There were better choices in that situation!”
“That was completely irresponsible—to your team and your teammates!”
De Bruyne’s face was red with fury.
Bendtner froze, then lashed out: “It’s just a missed chance!
Do you score every one-on-one?
We’re still leading!”
He waved his arms, clearly upset.
He hated being questioned more than anything.
Listening to him, Qin Ming couldn’t help clenching his fists.
If Bendtner had just taken the shot seriously, no one would complain.
But the way he treated it so casually?
He’d gone from disliking Bendtner to full-on disgust.
As a professional, you can lack skill—but not effort.
Football isn’t a solo sport.
You owe it to your teammates, your fans, and your coach.
De Bruyne opened his mouth to say more, but Malanda pulled him away.
“Let me talk!”
“Let me talk!”
Qin Ming heard De Bruyne shouting in English and quickly ran over to calm him down.
No matter what, it was still match time.
Internal drama could wait.
(END CHAPTER)