"DFB-Pokal Round One: Powerhouse Wolfsburg Pushed to Penalties by Second-Division Side, Squeaking Through 5-4!"
"Chinese Prodigy David Qin Secures Thrilling Victory in Wolfsburg Debut!"
"Five Days to Bundesliga Opener: Wolfsburg vs. Bayern Munich. Anticipation Mounts for David Qin's Revenge Match!"
Despite the fact that David hadn't stepped onto the pitch for a single second, reports in Chinese sports forums were ubiquitous. It was inevitable—Volkswagen had clearly paid for a massive traffic package, and the internet trolls were working overtime.
However, the Chinese fans weren't buying the hype.
—
@Cantonona_7: Still no actual substance. Do they ever get tired of blowing smoke?
@Simp4Qin: CCTV has the Bundesliga rights. I just hope David makes the matchday squad for once.
@TacticalWanker: If he can't get minutes against a 2. Bundesliga team, what makes people think he'll play against Bayern? Go home, everyone.
@MoneyBaller: At this rate, he'll be dragged back to China for car dealership appearances before the year is out.
@GingerGeniusFan: Another talented player getting ruined by corporate greed and commercial marketing.
—
While most fans had given up hope following the cup match, David Qin—the man at the center of the storm—remained focused on his training. He knew his performance in the intra-squad scrimmages was steadily improving; playing time was merely a matter of when, not if.
Refining your own craft is better than relying on luck.
David understood that as long as his skill was undeniable, the public's skepticism would vanish like bubbles in the wind. Clear-eyed and resolute, he refused to let the noise affect his internal peace.
Evening.
Watching the lone figure on the training pitch, Dieter Hecking rubbed his temples, still unable to make a final decision. As he aged, he found himself becoming increasingly indecisive.
He recognized David's immense talent. He saw the quality in training. But he wanted to wait. The upcoming match against Bayern was too critical; if Wolfsburg could pull off a win, those three points would be invaluable in their hunt for the title.
Yes, having finished fifth last season, Hecking had already set his sights on the Meisterschale. Consequently, Bayern was his primary rival—the ultimate obstacle.
"Let's wait a bit longer," Hecking sighed, removing his glasses. Against a side like Bayern, every substitution was precious. He didn't want to gamble, and more importantly, he didn't feel he could gamble. At his age, the first priority was always stability.
Five days later. Allianz Arena, Munich.
The first round of the Bundesliga season kicked off. To the bitter disappointment of Chinese fans, David Qin wasn't just on the bench—he hadn't made the squad list at all.
Bayern, coming off the back of a World Cup summer and integrating several new signings, looked slightly out of sync. However, Wolfsburg wasn't faring any better. The psychological toll of being pushed to the brink by a second-division team seemed to still linger. Against a Bayern squad that looked terrifyingly strong on paper, the Wolves were struggling.
"Robben cuts inside toward the middle... is he going to pull the trigger?" the CCTV commentator, Liu Jiayuan, shouted. "No! A fake shot followed by a pass—he finds Müller!"
"No surprises there! Müller taps it in from close range! Goal!"
"The 40th minute, and Bayern takes the lead!"
Even without David on the pitch, Liu Jiayuan maintained his professional delivery.
Back in Wolfsburg, David watched the goal. It wasn't "beautiful" in the traditional sense—it was almost scrappy. But Müller was like Inzaghi; he had a phantom-like ability to appear in the right place at the right time, finishing with clinical efficiency. "Beautiful football" might not have been their label, but as the saying goes: it doesn't matter if the cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice. An effective striker is an elite striker.
Inside the Allianz Arena, the cheers of the Bayern faithful rolled through the stands like a tidal wave. On the touchline, Pep Guardiola stood with his arms crossed, appearing remarkably composed. In his eyes, a Bayern team featuring Robben, Müller, Lewandowski, and Götze should be leading.
For some reason, an image flashed through his mind: a youth juggling a ball in the sunset, a simple motion radiating intense brilliance. He wouldn't see him today, but Guardiola had a feeling their paths would cross again soon.
On the opposite side, Dieter Hecking looked troubled. He had deployed De Bruyne as a left midfielder today, with Aaron Hunt in the center. The experiment was failing. De Bruyne was a playmaker; asking him to mirror Perišić by shredding defenses with raw pace and dribbling was unrealistic.
His grim premonition was confirmed during first-half stoppage time. Robben, in almost the exact same position, repeated his "fake shot, real pass" routine. This time, his target wasn't Müller, but Robert Lewandowski on the left side of the six-yard box. The Pole didn't hesitate, unleashing a powerful near-post strike that easily beat Max Grün.
2-0!
The stadium erupted into a red-and-white frenzy as Lewandowski celebrated with a passionate knee-slide. Scoring in his Bundesliga debut for Bayern gave him the confidence to defend his Golden Boot and perhaps even challenge for the Champions League top scorer title.
In the media room, David watched with a burning desire. He wanted to feel that joy—to hear the roar of tens of thousands after a goal.
"Junior," David asked casually, "you think I'll get a chance next match?"
"David, you've got to believe in yourself. I think you're just one opportunity away," Junior Malanda replied, winking. "I'll talk to Kevin later and see if he can put in a good word. He's the Gaffer's golden boy right now."
"Haha, thanks in advance then." David stood up, preparing to leave.
"David, you're not finishing the game?" Malanda asked, surprised.
"I'm heading out to train. Tell me the final score when you're done."
David felt that given the form of both teams, Bayern had essentially locked up the win. Watching further was pointless. He'd rather spend that time on the pitch, honing his skills.
Lately, he had shifted his focus. He had dialed back the heavy ball work and increased his strength, agility, and speed drills. These were personalized plans created by the team's trainers based on his physical profile and the demands of the league.
"Ronaldinho's natural physical gifts really were insane," David noted. He could feel his body evolving; he was at a completely different level compared to when he first arrived. The three pillars of his progress were core strength, flexibility, and explosive power.
Every legendary player in history possessed physical attributes far beyond the norm. Football is, at its heart, a game of contact. Every shot, pass, and dribble happens under physical duress. If your conditioning isn't up to par, your technique will inevitably falter under pressure.
Snap! David's right foot whipped through the ball, the trajectory forming a classic "Elastic," or "Flip-Flap." It was his favorite trick. In one fluid motion, he changed the ball's direction twice in a fraction of a second. If done fast enough, no defender can react in time.
From a distant office window, Malanda watched David's vivid, dancing movements and felt even more certain of one thing: I definitely need to stay on this guy's good side.