After that little interruption from Scott, De Bruyne clearly felt much of the frustration in his heart melt away.
The two parted ways at the intersection, and Qin Ming returned to his dorm, where he immediately opened up match footage of Hoffenheim to study their full-backs carefully.
On screen, he saw a familiar face: Firmino.
A quintessential non-traditional striker.
Oh, and another one—Niklas Süle.
Both of them would become well-known names in the future.
But for now, they were still raw, and their technical skills and overall game still needed refinement.
Last season, Hoffenheim finished 9th in the Bundesliga, trailing Wolfsburg by 16 points.
On paper, Wolfsburg had the edge.
However, Hoffenheim had made some smart signings over the summer.
And since most of their players hadn’t been called up for national duty, they were unaffected by the so-called “FIFA virus.”
In contrast, most of Wolfsburg’s players had played one or two international matches.
So as for who would win the day after tomorrow—it was anyone’s guess.
“I wonder if I’ll be in the starting lineup?” Qin Ming figured that based on Dieter Hecking’s character, if a player had proven themselves, he wouldn’t hesitate to give them another chance.
His prediction was confirmed the very next day.
At the VFL training base, in the team meeting room, Hecking was announcing the matchday squad.
“We’re changing the front setup a little.
Marco will start as right midfielder, Kevin stays in the center, and as for the left wing—Qin, this is the chance I promised you.”
Hecking looked at Qin Ming with anticipation in his voice.
Can’t be helped.
Anyone who had seen Qin Ming’s stellar debut couldn’t help but be curious what he’d do next.
“I won’t let you down,” Qin Ming said with a smile.
Though he looked calm on the surface, inside, he was buzzing with excitement.
After all, starting a match and coming on as a sub are two very different things.
Just the idea of walking out of the tunnel hand-in-hand with a mascot, with thunderous cheers all around, was enough to fire the imagination.
Of course, maybe it was just that Qin Ming had never experienced it before—so he was seeing it all through rose-colored glasses.
“Now that the starting lineup’s set, let’s talk about Hoffenheim.”
Hecking nodded.
“They’re a classic attack-heavy, defense-light team.
Last round, they beat Augsburg 2–0.
The standout player was Brazilian forward Firmino—he’s their attacking core and the key to linking midfield to attack.”
“So we need to limit him as much as possible.
Stabilize the defense first, then look to attack.
Kevin will be the organizer going forward, and we’ll follow the same tactical plan we rehearsed earlier.”
In just a few words, Hecking laid out the tactical direction.
Qin Ming, meanwhile, kept his eyes on Andreas and Süle—those would be the two defenders he’d be dealing with the most tomorrow.
The Next Day.
Qin Ming and his teammates took the club bus and hit the autobahn toward Sinsheim.
The 300 km trip took four hours.
Not much choice there—the bus couldn’t take the fastest route, and most segments had a speed limit of 100 km/h.
Soon, the team bus arrived at the Rhein-Neckar-Arena.
Through the window, Qin Ming could see fans in dark blue jerseys waving flags and singing along the street.
Hoffenheim was also known as “Hoff Village.”
Originally, Hoffenheim had been just a small village on the outskirts of Sinsheim.
With a population of only about 3,000, even trains were a rare sight—only the rural lines passed through.
In German, Hoffenheim means “home of hope.”
And so, the nickname “Hoff Village” stuck.
But what really made them famous was their football.
In the 2008–09 season, Hoffenheim pulled off a miracle by jumping from lower divisions straight into the Bundesliga—earning the title “the rural miracle.”
“Luis, is it true Ralf Rangnick resigned from Hoffenheim because of you?”
Qin Ming had read about it before and now asked curiously.
After all, Rangnick was the godfather of German football.
He ushered in a wave of tactical revolution, introducing the flat back four with zonal marking and high pressing.
Among today’s German coaches, half were inspired by his philosophy—and the other half were his disciples.
And it was under his leadership that Hoffenheim completed their three-tier leap.
“Sort of… Back then, Bayern wanted to buy me, and the management didn’t inform Ralf—they just sold me directly,”
Luiz Gustavo said with a wry smile.
“Tsk tsk.”
Qin Ming figured if Rangnick was that upset, Gustavo must’ve been very important to him.
Sadly, former Bayern players like Gustavo and Olic had already given their prime years to Bayern.
Now, while not completely washed up, they were far from the forces they once were.
While Qin and his teammates were warming up, the pre-match press conference was underway.
“Mr.
Hecking, Qin Ming impressed in the last match and is receiving a lot of attention.
What are your expectations for his performance today?”
The reporter from Xinhua News Agency naturally focused on Qin Ming.
“Well, anyone who watched the game could see the talent he has.
I won’t go into his technical abilities, but I think he’ll give us and the fans another surprise today.”
“Of course, form matters in performance.
If he doesn’t do well, I hope people won’t be too harsh.”
Hecking knew how much pressure public opinion could place on a young player.
So he wanted to protect Qin from the weight of media scrutiny as much as possible.
In the Opposing Press Room.
“Our tactical system has been upgraded.
We’re ready to challenge for a Europa League spot.”
“Beating Augsburg was just the beginning—we’re taking three points at home!”
Gisdol, who had led Hoffenheim to safety two seasons ago and into the top ten last season, was full of confidence.
He was also a disciple of Rangnick.
Thirty minutes before kickoff.
Qin Ming and the others returned to the locker room after warm-up, completed final preparations, and headed to the tunnel.
Standing near the back of the line, Qin spotted Firmino—and Süle.
“What’s your name?”
A little bored, Qin lowered his head and asked.
“Bernhard,” the young mascot answered quietly but confidently.
“I know what it means… Brave Bear, right?”
Qin raised an eyebrow.
“What about you?” Bernhard asked brightly.
“Me?
I’m… a mighty dragon!”
Qin joked.
Who knew what his parents had in mind when naming him?
“Then can you show me a dragon?”
Bernhard’s eyes lit up—he’d seen bears at the zoo, but never a dragon.
“If I score today, look up at the sky.
Maybe you’ll see one.”
Qin lied to the boy with zero guilt.
“Okay!
But you have to score, promise!”
Bernhard nodded fiercely.
Nearby, Firmino couldn’t help it.
“Bernhard, there are no dragons.
He’s tricking you.”
It was his responsibility to look after the team’s mascot.
“You’re lying—I don’t believe you!”
Bernhard clung tightly to Qin Ming’s hand.
Qin just grinned, shoulders shrugged, laughing happily.
Firmino: “…”
Why does that smile make me want to punch him?
(END CHAPTER)