Back in Wolfsburg, Qin Ming was already studying Everton in his dorm room.
Manchester United’s “little brother” had been on a roll lately!
Starting with their young powerhouse up front—Romelu Lukaku.
He’d transferred from Chelsea to Everton this summer for €35 million.
In his Premier League debut, he registered an assist—against Arsenal, no less.
And just recently, in Round 4, he scored a volley off a long ball from John Stones.
Speaking of Stones, Qin Ming remembered him well.
He once heard Guardiola say: “He’ll be the striker of the center-back revolution.”
Coincidentally, Stones was Everton’s right center-back—which meant Qin Ming would inevitably come face-to-face with him.
“Everton really is strong!”
After watching their match footage, Qin Ming sighed from his bed.
With David Moyes moving on to manage Manchester United, Roberto Martínez inherited the squad and began injecting his own footballing philosophy into the team.
Now, Everton didn’t just create danger going forward—their defensive organization was also impressive.
“By comparison, Arsenal feels weak.
They were top four last season… but where are they now?”
Qin Ming couldn’t remember Arsenal’s current standings.
He didn’t really care either.
It had nothing to do with him.
Even if he got a chance to join Arsenal someday—that was a problem for future him.
He scanned the general Europa League group layout.
Wolfsburg was in Group H, which looked manageable—not quite a “Group of Death.”
Everton, Krasnodar, and Lille.
No need to say much about Everton and Lille—Premier League and Ligue 1 sides.
As for Krasnodar, they were a Russian Premier League team.
Elsewhere in the competition were big names like Ajax, Sevilla, Napoli, Inter Milan, Tottenham, and Roma.
So winning the Europa League would still be quite the challenge.
Late night.
While Wolfsburg was calm and quiet, thousands of kilometers away in China, morning life was already bustling.
In the subways, buses, and streets, you could spot people watching match highlights on their phones.
They were watching yesterday’s Wolfsburg vs.
Hoffenheim clash.
When they saw Qin Ming’s double flick humiliating Süle and Rudy, they couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Because the creativity and energy in that footage—was something they’d once dreamed of in their youth.
In the match report’s comment section, fans piled on with joy:
[Qin Ming didn’t score again, but that performance was already excellent.]
[Let’s not forget—he’s only 16.]
[Didn’t Perrin say he’ll wait until the Asian Cup to call Qin into the national team?]
[Perrin’s got a point—experience at this age in a top league like this accelerates growth massively.]
[To be honest, I think Perrin is the most fitting head coach for China in the past 10 years.
Practical tactics, knows how to battle strong teams, organizes well.
He works with what he’s got—very much a “cook with what’s in the kitchen” kind of manager.]
[Yeah, defensively sound.
Just the attack needs more work.
Often holds up against strong teams but can’t score against weaker ones.]
[Which really comes down to the forwards not taking chances.]
[If Qin Ming can step up, scoring won’t be the problem anymore.]
[…]
After the heartbreak of missing the World Cup, Chinese fans now had a glimmer of hope—tangible, visible hope.
As the sun rose in Wolfsburg, Qin Ming was already into his morning training.
“Qin, the hospital tests came back.
They found your leg muscles—or rather, your nerve distribution—is extremely dense.
That’s why you feel so comfortable dribbling.”
Assistant coach Ton Lokhoff read the report.
“So now, you need to work on lower-body strength to boost your explosive power and ball control precision.
Also, start adding nerve reaction drills.”
German football, built on years of scientific advancement, had developed a systematic training methodology.
Combined with high-tech tools like pressure analysis software and ultra-high-speed cameras, players no longer had to train blindly.
“Got it!”
Qin wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled brightly.
“Keep it up.
Coach just told me—you’re in the starting lineup against Everton!”
Lokhoff genuinely liked the energetic, positive aura that Qin gave off.
“Thanks, Ton!”
Qin’s smile grew even bigger.
He couldn’t wait to head to England and face a Premier League team.
Before time travel, he’d been just another office worker—no chance to go abroad, let alone watch a match in person.
The Premier League had only existed for him through a screen.
After strength training, Qin added flexibility drills.
The techniques he used—and the moves he executed in matches—required high levels of flexibility.
Besides, flexible players were usually exceptional.
Look at Ibrahimović at PSG—he was the perfect example.
“Qin, I’m going to the bar—lots of girls.
Want to come?”
Malanda popped his head in.
“No thanks.”
Qin shook his head.
Not because he wanted to live like a monk—but right now, he was at a critical stage.
Too much to learn, too much to master.
Plus, Hecking had a mindset similar to Ferguson’s.
He believed players should stay sharp on the pitch—and clean off it.
If Hecking found out and it hurt Qin’s image in his eyes, would it affect his game time?
Qin didn’t want to risk it.
He figured: When I’ve made it big, the girls will line up anyway.
“You, Kevin?”
Malanda turned to De Bruyne.
“I’ll pass,” De Bruyne replied firmly.
He’d just been cheated on not long ago—and was still wary of women.
Not to mention his naturally reserved personality.
“Sigh, you two are no fun.
The ball is round, but it’s not soft enough, huh?”
Malanda made a crude air-grabbing motion, face full of mischief.
Time flew by.
By September 13, 2014, Qin Ming and his teammates boarded a flight to Liverpool.
Since Wolfsburg had no airport, they had to drive to Hannover first.
The 850-kilometer trip took just one hour.
Qin barely felt it before landing.
Looking out at John Lennon Airport, everything felt new and exciting.
“Hey kid, you’re not a Liverpool fan, are you?”
Olić asked out of nowhere.
“No way!
I’m a Man—no, wait, I’ve always dreamed of playing for Wolfsburg!”
Qin thumped his chest loudly.
“Haha, no need to lie.
I’m a Bayern Munich fan myself.”
Olić shrugged, then whispered, “Let me tell you something—Kevin’s a Liverpool fan.
He loves Michael Owen.”
(END CHAPTER)