Anfield.
The final whistle was a pin dropping in a vacuum.
The 92 minutes of venomous, deafening noise vanished, replaced by a sudden, collective, gut-punch of silence.
Sorrow and joy intertwined, painting an abstract, brutal masterpiece.
The Kop, the Main Stand, and the recently renamed Kenny Dalglish Stand—tens of thousands of Liverpool fans sat in stunned, ashen-faced silence.
They didn't move.
They stared at the patch of grass by the far post, their hearts heavy, as if still unable to process what had just happened.
Liverpool had dominated Manchester United for the full 90 minutes.
The statistics flashing on the screen were a cruel joke: shots, possession, passes... all more than doubling their opponents.
Yet they ended up losing 1-2.
It was a result they simply couldn't accept.
The silence began to break, replaced by the low, angry hum of complaints and curses.
"Only one team was trying to win today! One!"
"United were happy with a point! We wanted all three – that's why we lost!"
"Mourinho's damn bus... it's just destroying the game of football!"
"Look at their smug Mancunian faces... it makes me sick to my stomach."
"Who the hell is their number 23? He got so lucky. A fluke shot! A one-off!"
....
📺 Sky Sports: Post-Match Reaction 🎙️
In the glass-walled Sky Sports studio overlooking the pitch, the atmosphere was just as explosive.
Dave Jones (Host): "I... I am speechless. For 92 minutes, this was the story of Liverpool's dominance. And in 10 seconds, it's a 'smash and grab' victory for Manchester United. Jamie... your thoughts."
Jamie Carragher "It's a disgrace. That's what it is. It's anti-football. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of him!" he jabbed a finger toward the celebrating Mourinho.
"He comes here, to Anfield, with that squad, and he shows zero ambition. Zero! Only one team, for 93 minutes, tried to play football, tried to win the game. And they get punished for it by a lucky shot."
Graeme Souness: "He's right, Jamie. It's a bitter pill to swallow. It's more than a loss. For Liverpool, at home, in the Dalglish Stand's first game... to be beaten like that by them... it's a humiliation. It's a humiliation because you've been completely mugged."
Gary Neville : "Humiliation? Humiliation is dominating a game and not being good enough to score. I'm sorry, but..."
Carragher: "Oh, shut up, Gary! You know it yourself! You'd be saying the same if you were in our shoes!"
Neville: "Maybe. But I'm not. And the facts are the facts. This isn't a beauty contest. It's not the 'dominance' trophy. It's about putting the ball in the net. Liverpool had 19 shots and scored one. United had three shots and scored two. That's not 'lucky,' Jamie, that's clinical. That's a José Mourinho masterclass in tactics, and it's a brilliant, brilliant piece of quality from the kid. That... is what you call... winning."
....
Back in the VIP seats, the Liverpool legends wore grim expressions, overcome by an indescribable sense of shame.
Yes, shame.
Because for them, losing to this Manchester United, this way, was the most humiliating experience imaginable.
Kenny Dalglish, who should have been celebrating the honor of his newly-named stand, felt as if he'd been slapped across the face in front of his own family.
His cheeks burned with humiliation.
Beside him, Alan Hansen, the legendary defender, seemed to recall a statement he'd once made, a ghost from 1995.
"You can't win anything with kids!"
Back then, he'd been proven catastrophically wrong by Ferguson, and he'd become a perpetual target of mockery for United fans.
They dragged out the quote at every opportunity.
He had always longed for a chance to retaliate, thinking today would be glorious.
But who could have predicted Liverpool would not only lose... but be defeated by an 18-year-old's last-gasp winner? It inevitably, sickeningly, reminded him of the "Class of '92" story.
He instinctively clamped his mouth shut.
Steven Gerrard watched the triumphant young man on the pitch, the one being mobbed by his teammates, and couldn't help but reminisce.
He saw a mirror of his own glorious past, when he had been that kid, the hero, the one who decided the derby.
But this kid was wearing the wrong red. It was a bitter, bitter thought.
...
In stark, glorious contrast, the small section of the Anfield Road stand housing the 3,000 away fans was a scene of pure, unadulterated jubilation.
It was an explosion of limbs, of sound, of relief.
Though many United supporters weren't thrilled with 90 minutes of defensive, heart-in-your-mouth tactics, any method that beat Liverpool at Anfield was acceptable.
They bounced, they sang, they roared their club anthem.
"Glory, glory, Man United!"
"Twenty times, twenty times, Man United!"
"Steve Gerrard, Gerrard... he slipped on his fucking arse!"
This infuriated the departing Liverpool fans.
They trembled with rage, but with no retort, they could only turn their backs and silently exit their own stadium, leaving the United fans to celebrate in the echoing, empty cathedral.
The most conspicuous figure in the director's box, Sir Alex Ferguson, kept applauding, his face split in a wide, joyous grin, his hands still trembling, but now with delight.
He had once said, "My greatest ambition in life is to knock Liverpool off their fucking perch."
At the time, that statement seemed like pure delusion.
Back then, United had gone decades without a trophy.
They had been in the second division.
In contrast, Dalglish's Liverpool were at their absolute peak, dominating everything.
In his first five years, Ferguson had won nothing.
He had nearly been sacked.
He'd been forced to watch their arch-rivals bask in glory.
The bitterness was unimaginable. He had prepared to spend his entire life fulfilling that vow.
And he had done it.
He'd cleared out the veterans, built his team around the "Class of '92," and ultimately, overtaken Liverpool.
So he was particularly, profoundly happy today, witnessing United's 199th North West Derby victory, on this special day, in that stand.
He couldn't wait to find Dalglish and properly, joyfully, taunt him.
He suddenly looked toward the black-haired youth on the pitch.
Truth be told, his impression of Chinese players wasn't good; he'd personally witnessed a few fail to make the grade.
But today, his preconceptions had changed.
He'd been researching this young man.
Hardworking, dedicated, no scandals.
Ferguson thought perhaps he should find time to have a quiet talk with the lad.
Beside him, David Beckham rubbed his chin, his mind already in a different place.
He was highly sensitive to a player's commercial value.
Good image. Excellent skills. Humble character. And... the entire Chinese market.
All these factors combined made Ling an untapped gold mine.
He absolutely couldn't miss this opportunity.
He made a mental note to have his team reach out. He needed to be the player's first major global sponsor.
Paul Scholes, sitting nearby, felt quite awkward.
He'd been Mourinho's loudest critic. He didn't know whether to praise the result or criticize the performance.
He just sat, conflicted.
...
On the pitch, under the referee's firm insistence, players from both teams briefly completed the post-match handshake ritual.
Klopp gave Mourinho a furious, teeth-bared smile and a handshake that lasted a nanosecond.
All other communication ceased.
As for exchanging jerseys? In a North West Derby? Simply not going to happen.
The Manchester United players filed toward the sidelines, embracing Mourinho and his staff in celebration.
When it was Ling's turn, Mourinho grabbed him in a fierce, one-armed hug.
"Well done!" the manager beamed, a rare, genuine smile.
"To be honest," Mourinho said, his voice low so only Ling could hear, "although we had practiced that tactical shift, I didn't hold much hope for it working. Not today. Not here." He pulled back, his eyes intense.
"But you actually pulled it off. They told me you were a boy. Today, you were a man. I'm proud of you!"
Ling, his adrenaline still pumping, didn't feign modesty.
He accepted the praise openly before responding seriously, "Boss, your in-game adjustments were brilliant, too. The formation shift in the 80th minute, pulling me inside... it opened up the space. They didn't know how to track it."
Hearing this, Mourinho's eyebrows rose slightly.
The player wasn't just talented; he was smart.
He understood why it had worked.
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile curled the corners of his mouth, one he quickly suppressed.
This... this was a player he could build around.
....
Meanwhile, in China, it was prime time on a Saturday evening.
Voice-activated lights lit up in countless residential complexes as fans, gathered around their televisions, exploded with excitement.
"It was a rollercoaster of a match! Let's congratulate Manchester United on their final, final victory!" Zhan Jun's voice was hoarse, cracking with emotion.
"Our young Chinese player, Jeremy Ling, performed exceptionally well! He was basically a defender for 70 minutes, and then... and then this! Not just crucial dribbles, but the winning goal in the final moments!"
"Honestly," he paused, his voice thick, "when I witnessed this scene live, I couldn't control my emotions. I... I believe you all feel the same!"
The match, broadcast during China's "golden hour" and hyped for weeks, had attracted over 10 million concurrent viewers.
Whether they understood the offside trap or not, watching Ling's goal replay—the curve, the post, the net, the silence of Anfield—those details didn't matter. This was the inherent, universal charm of football.
The comment barrage on the live stream fell like a digital avalanche.
[MANCHESTER UNITED ROCKS! LING IS A FUCKING GOD!]
[That curling shot for the winner was absolutely beautiful! It was art! My heart almost jumped out of my chest!]
[THE CURVE! THE SPEED! THE ANGLE! Mignolet had a family, man! That was perfect!]
[Champions League next week! Tottenham at the end of the month! Go get them, young Ling! BEAT SON HEUNG-MIN! YOU ARE THE REAL #1 IN ASIA!]
[Isn't this just one league match? Why is everyone acting like we won the World Cup? Don't celebrate too early - Manchester City is the real boss this season!]
[Shut up, troll! Since our Ling performed so well, can't we be happy? This is the North West Derby! This is like beating our ultimate rival! This is bigger than the Champions League!]
[By the way, does Ling have any brand endorsements? I'd like to buy something to show my support.]
[Seems not yet... but there definitely won't be a shortage soon! He's going to be on billboards everywhere!]
[Hopefully he endorses something affordable, so I don't have to worry about not being able to afford it.]
[My man is about to get that Electric Scooter sponsorship, I can feel it. 🛵]