After the celebration ended, Leo Lin took the jersey Firmino had picked up for him, then shook hands with the referee who had shown him the yellow card.
He respected the decision—but he was always going to celebrate that way.
Scoring a last-second winner in a decisive match—so what if it earned him a yellow?
Both teams returned to their own halves as the match neared its end. Once play restarted, it would only take a few seconds before the referee blew the final whistle.
Yet Klopp made a substitution, sending on the young prospect Ibe to replace Leo Lin.
It was a very deliberate change—one meant to let the hero of the stoppage-time winner fully absorb the boos and jeers of the Etihad Stadium, while also enjoying the applause and cheers from the traveling Liverpool supporters.
"A truly elite superstar will always be loved by some and hated by others—especially one with such a strong personality."
Jon Champion watched Leo Lin stride toward the sideline, clearly enjoying himself amid the Etihad's thunderous boos, and couldn't help but laugh.
"Leo Lin is a classic example of a young player with an especially vivid personality."
"If you like him, you'll love him to an extreme."
Leo Lin walked off calmly, waving to the Manchester City fans who were booing him, confidence written all over his face.
The Liverpool supporters were going berserk, every single one shouting Leo Lin's name as if hailing their new king.
Just seconds after Leo Lin left the pitch, the referee blew the final whistle.
The broadcast immediately cut to a close-up of Leo Lin. In the lower-left corner of the screen, the Match MVP graphic appeared—without question, it belonged to him.
"Leo Lin delivered an outstanding performance today," the commentary continued. "Three key interceptions, two tackles, and three one-on-one dribble attempts with two successes. He was limited in possession by Fernandinho, though."
"But he orchestrated four dangerous attacks, created three chances through off-the-ball movement, and ultimately scored the decisive winner."
"What Leo Lin showed today wasn't just his shooting ability, but his incredible capacity for self-adjustment."
"In football, there are two kinds of tactics. One is team tactics—the system arranged by the head coach."
"The other is individual tactics—the adjustments a player makes on the pitch based on the situation and their football intelligence. Strong self-tactics allow a player to perform at an even higher level."
In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Gerrard projected Leo Lin's heat map and match statistics onto the screen, presenting them to the audience as if he were unveiling a priceless treasure.
Beside him, Neville scoffed openly.
"Gerrard, look at how smug you are. Anyone who didn't know better would think those were your match stats."
As a Manchester United legend, Neville was naturally unhappy seeing Liverpool perform so brilliantly. His face was full of defiance, and beneath the desk, his arrogant little middle finger occasionally waved in Gerrard's direction.
Gerrard chuckled.
"Your middle finger is really short. Lin's is much longer—that's the difference between you and him."
"You think I'm only talking about middle fingers?"
"Put it away already. Don't embarrass yourself."
"And besides, Lin is Liverpool's rising star. As his senior, it's only right that I help pave the way for him."
"As for you—who exactly are you paving the way for? Does Manchester United even have any young players worth developing?"
"Or are your results better than Liverpool's right now?"
"Since Sir Alex retired, do you even remember what the Champions League knockout stages feel like?"
Neville was driven nearly mad, wanting to fire back but unable to find a single rebuttal. Every word Gerrard said was true.
At the post-match press conference, the moment Leo Lin stepped into the room, chaos erupted.
It was the first time Klopp had ever seen every reporter completely disregard press-conference protocol, all of them scrambling to hurl questions at Leo Lin.
Faced with more than a dozen raised hands, Leo Lin smiled helplessly, unsure whom to pick. Scanning the room, he spotted his good friend—Sky Sports correspondent Henry.
The Premier League Report, one of England's most successful football media outlets in the modern era, had a close working relationship with Leo Lin. It was also the European outlet most supportive of him, frequently helping promote him. Among the Premier League Report's commentary team, Henry the Great was by far the fans' favorite.
Henry often attended matches as a field reporter to interview Leo Lin, and the two had always gotten along well.
"Henry the Great, long time no see," Leo Lin said with a grin. "Looks like you've been eating well lately."
Henry stood up laughing. "My wife's learned a few new dishes recently—the flavor is unbelievable!"
"Lin, congratulations on another outstanding match."
"After you came back from the U17s, fans were worried about whether you'd be able to adapt quickly to Liverpool. But this stoppage-time winner proved once again just how exceptional you are."
"Can you tell us what it felt like to score the winner at the Etihad?"
Leo Lin smiled, adjusted the microphone, and gave Henry a thumbs-up.
He loved the question.
"Even now, when I think back to that moment, it still feels like electricity running through my whole body."
"That feeling is incredible—addictive, even."
"I think I'll fall in love with it. Maybe I'll score even more winners in the future."
Henry shook his head with a wry smile.
"I sincerely hope you score plenty more—just as long as none of them come against Arsenal."
The room immediately erupted in laughter. The press conference lasted a full half hour before Leo Lin finally returned to the hotel, exhausted.
With the Manchester City match over, Liverpool had five days of rest. To reward the squad for their performances, Klopp gave everyone two days off.
That evening, Leo Lin took a long, relaxing hot shower, lay down on his bed, and fired up FIFA, ready for a head-to-head showdown with Barnett.
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was Charles Lin.
"Hey, Dad. What's up?" Leo Lin answered.
"Leo, come back tomorrow and see your mom."
Leo Lin was confused.
"Didn't I just see you both two weeks ago when I had time off?"
Charles Lin's voice sounded uneasy.
"Your mom's been extremely busy lately. She didn't let me tell you last week."
"The ham shop's business keeps improving. As the manager, she often doesn't get home until after midnight."
"She's wanted to quit for a long time, but she's afraid she'll feel useless once she stops working."
"And she keeps telling me not to run away from life. But I don't think this is just 'life' anymore—it's something she never needed to face in the first place."
Only then did Leo Lin realize that when they'd gone to the concert last week, Julia really had been forcing a smile.
He immediately booked a flight and flew back to Spain that very night.
He arrived home in the early hours of the morning. Charles Lin opened the door carefully.
"Keep your voice down. Your mom just fell asleep."
"She's been sleeping in your room lately. She gets home too late and doesn't want to disturb me."
Leo Lin nodded and quietly entered his room. Even in deep sleep, Julia—the iconic Spanish beauty—still wore a look of anxiety and unease.
"How long has this been going on?" Leo Lin asked.
"More than three months."
Leo Lin said nothing. He turned around and immediately began packing Julia's luggage.
"Dad, pack your things too."
"Quit your job tomorrow."
Charles Lin froze for a moment, then asked nothing and began packing his own bags.
At six the next morning, Julia—who had slept only four hours—suddenly woke from a dream. Checking her phone, she saw there were still twenty minutes before her 6:20 alarm.
Rubbing her aching temples, she sat up, about to get ready, when the door suddenly opened.
Leo Lin walked in, pushing a suitcase and carrying a travel bag. His face was lit with a sunshine-bright smile, so radiant it seemed to light up the entire room.
Behind him was Charles Lin, trying just as hard to force a smile as brilliant as his son's, though the unmistakable aura of a middle-aged man still clung to him.
Leo Lin pulled out a bank card.
"Call your workplace and resign—right now."
"Starting today, starting this very moment, your mission is to fulfill the dream you told me about twenty years ago."
"Travel the world."
"I've already picked your first stop—China."
"I've even chosen your tour guide—the greasy uncle behind me. At least he's still got a bit of charm."
Charles Lin immediately raised his hand high and lifted his chin proudly.
Tears spilled from Julia's eyes, yet her face was filled with the most genuine smile. Tears and sincere smiles always seemed to go perfectly together.
"What kind of lousy job makes you work like this?"
"With your son here, what do you even have to worry about?"
Leo Lin pulled out another bank card.
"There's one million euros on it. Take it and use it."
"You've already faced more than enough hardship. You've made it through enough trials in life."
"It's time to rest."
"Leave the rest to me. Your son may not be incredibly famous yet, but he's earning plenty."
"Go out and enjoy yourselves—take three or five years if you like."
"When you've had enough and come back, if you want to do something, open any shop you want. I'll pay for it. You'll be the boss, my dad will be the boss's wife—it's that simple."
Charles Lin raised his hand high once more, lifting his head proudly, as if proving he'd always been there.
Julia broke down completely.
Leo Lin smiled, sat beside her, and wrapped her in a warm embrace.
"If running away actually helps, then let yourself catch your breath."
"And if you can't fight life anymore, I'll help you flip it the bird."
...
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