Chapter 70 The National Team Players

"Four consecutive matches with goals, a brace, a hat-trick, seven goals in total... It's simply unbelievable, and he's a thirty-eight-year-old veteran!"

Inside the locker room at Lille's training ground, some players were listening to music, others were playing video games, and a few were chatting idly.

Everyone was enjoying the leisure time before training officially began.

Lenny Yssalah was staring at his phone, exclaiming over the news he had just seen.

It was a report about the English Premier League.

Or to be precise, a report on that Premier League match where Tyne defeated Wolverhampton three to nil at home.

Although Vitiny had scored twice and was named man of the match, the focus of the reports remained firmly on Wang Lie.

The statistics that drew Yssalah's exclamation were listed right there in the article.

Shaking his head in amazement, Yssalah nudged Fu Xiaofeng beside him: "Fu, do you think Wang altered his age?"

Fu Xiaofeng turned to look at his midfield partner, wearing a look of sheer bewilderment.

"Did he push his age up? On paper, he's thirty-eight, but in reality, he must only be thirty-three..."

Fu Xiaofeng's expression instantly shifted into the classic "metro man looking at his phone" meme:

"What kind of nonsense are you spouting, Lenny? People alter their ages downwards, not upwards! Is your brain fried?"

"Then it must mean you Chinese have some kind of 'Fountain of Youth'—you just take a sip and you grow young again!" Yssalah refused to give up, offering another explanation.

Fu Xiaofeng gave him a sideways glance: "Do you see me growing younger?"

"You don't look thirty-two, either," Yssalah said, looking Fu Xiaofeng up and down very seriously. "You Chinese people all look a bit younger than your actual age..."

Fu Xiaofeng nodded in agreement: "That's true, you practically look like my contemporary."

Twenty-nine-year-old Lenny Yssalah grinned, revealing a flash of white teeth: "Good thing I was born in France. If I had been born in Africa, I wouldn't even know how old I am right now... My grandfather had no idea how old he was, and I've heard several different versions of his age from my father, my uncles, and my cousins. It's a complete mess..."

After poking fun at himself, Yssalah pulled the conversation back to the news he had been reading: "If Wang hasn't lied about his age and hasn't been drinking from the Fountain of Youth, why is he performing at such a terrifying level?"

"You're asking me, who am I supposed to ask?" Fu Xiaofeng spread his hands.

"Ask Wang, aren't you national team teammates?"

Yssalah said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but Fu Xiaofeng's expression turned somewhat subtle...

He could only offer a vague reply: "I suppose I can only ask him when the national team meets up..."

"Don't you have his phone number or something?" Yssalah found it even stranger.

"No." This time, Fu Xiaofeng was telling the truth.

Yssalah paused for a moment, then dawned on him: "Ah, Wang's personality and temper really do make him hard to approach..."

He assumed Fu Xiaofeng had no personal friendship with Wang Lie because of Wang Lie's "stay away from strangers" aura.

After all, that sort of thing was hardly surprising when it came to Wang Lie.

Fu Xiaofeng didn't refute him, simply spreading his hands along with his partner's remark: "So there you go."

Yssalah frowned again, looking back at the news on his phone: "It's just unbelievable. It wouldn't be rare for a player over thirty-eight to have one or two games like this, but to keep it up match after match, every single time, I've never heard of anyone pulling that off before... I even went out of my way to find the footage of these matches to watch, Fu, you know what? I even had an illusion—"

"What kind of illusion?"

"I felt like Wang's physical condition in these recent matches was even better than when he first arrived at Tyne, especially in the details of his sprints, explosive power, and physical duels—it's very obvious... Oh, and his stamina too. For a thirty-eight-year-old player to consistently play full ninety-minute matches in the Premier League... Tsk tsk, it's truly remarkable! That's why I couldn't help wondering if he really did find a way to turn back time."

Fu Xiaofeng felt his partner's talk was completely absurd: "Turn back time? What are you on about? You have to consider how he was treated at Salford United during the first half of the season—he didn't play a single proper match, and training quality probably couldn't be guaranteed either. And before his transfer to Tyne, he was even banished to train with the youth team. Can the training intensity of the youth team compare to the first team? Once he went to Tyne, both training and matches returned to normal, so naturally, his physical condition is better than when he first arrived."

"Is that how it is?" Yssalah looked thoughtful.

"Of course that's how it is. Do you really believe in some 'Fountain of Youth'?" Fu Xiaofeng sneered. "If China really had a 'Fountain of Youth', I'd definitely go take a gulp!"

That way, I wouldn't have to be mocked as a "seventy-year-old crown prince"... And I could compete again with a younger body.

Fu Xiaofeng muttered inwardly to himself.

At thirty-two years old, Fu Xiaofeng had originally been the most talented player in Chinese football after Wang Lie. Playing as an attacking midfielder, he became famous at a young age and was once considered Wang Lie's successor.

He had worked hard with that exact goal in mind.

Treating Wang Lie as his idol and role model, learning to pursue victory and never stop like him... Then, when Wang Lie grew old and faded from the national team, he could inherit the banner of the "Chinese National Team Core," continue to lead the Chinese team forward like his idol, and achieve brilliant results at the World Cup.

During the 2022 World Cup hosted in China, Fu Xiaofeng was only seventeen, yet already a key pillar of the U-17 national team.

Naturally, he would later become a member and the core of the U-19, U-20, U-21, and U-23 national teams.

And after that, he would become a national team player without any prefix.

That summer, right on his own doorstep, he witnessed with his own eyes how the Chinese national team, led by Wang Lie, historically broke into the World Cup quarter-finals.

The night they made it to the last eight, the whole country celebrated.

Fu Xiaofeng didn't sleep a wink—at first because of the revelry, and later because he was simply too excited to fall asleep.

Whenever he closed his eyes, the image of Wang Lie scoring the winning goal flashed across his mind.

Then he couldn't help imagining what it would be like when he eventually became a national team player and played in the World Cup himself...

He yearned for that kind of future.

The mere thought that he, too, could one day score a goal at the World Cup gave him goosebumps all over. He even mimicked a commentator's voice in his head, hyping himself up:

"Fu Xiaofeng! Fu Xiaofeng, what a shot! Brilliant!! Fu Xiaofeng scores! He delivers a stoppage-time winner against Brazil! Fu Xiaofeng is the hero who wins the World Cup for China!"

He closed his eyes, imagining himself running on the pitch of the World Cup, the wind brushing against his face, deafening cheers ringing in his ears alongside the shouts of his teammates and the praise of his idol:

"Great shot, Xiaofeng!"

Then he would clutch his duvet in bed and chuckle foolishly out loud.

He had also thought that once he became a national team player, he would surely assist his idol with all his might, and together they would achieve results at the World Cup that surpassed the quarter-finals!

Yet reality proved ruthlessly cruel.

Four years later, at twenty-one, Fu Xiaofeng participated in his first World Cup. Most of the time, he was a substitute, acting as a spectator from the closest seat to the pitch.

He watched with his own eyes as a sluggish Wang Lie scored only a single goal in that tournament, and the much-anticipated Chinese team packed their bags and went home after playing just three group stage matches.

The quarter-final achievement of the previous World Cup felt like a sweet dream shared by all Chinese fans, and now the dream was over.

For the 2030 World Cup in Spain and Portugal, Fu Xiaofeng was already twenty-five, long established as the starting attacking midfielder of the Chinese national team. His front-court partnership with Wang Lie was even hailed by some media and fans as the "strongest in Asia."

Through their efforts, the Chinese team finally made it back into the knockout stages of the World Cup this time.

Only to be eliminated once again in the Round of 16...

For the 2034 World Cup in Saudi Arabia, thirty-five-year-old Wang Lie was presumably making his final World Cup appearance, while twenty-nine-year-old Fu Xiaofeng was even more mature. Combined with a young and prodigious talent named Chi Zhen, this should have been the ultimate moment for Chinese football to make history.

They led the Chinese team into the knockout stages for two consecutive World Cups.

Only to stumble once more on the road from the Round of 16 to the quarter-finals.

Fu Xiaofeng still remembered the moment the referee blew the final whistle, when a Brazilian player, rushing past him in the ecstasy of advancement, crashed right into him.

The opponent was completely immersed in the joy of qualifying and didn't bother to stop and apologize.

While he stood there like a wooden statue, completely unresponsive.

After that World Cup ended, he thought Wang Lie would surely fade away from the national team, and the "Era of Fu Xiaofeng" for Chinese football would finally arrive!

As it turned out, no.

Brother Wang didn't say a single word about quitting the national team, nor did he mention retirement. Even when he couldn't get a game at Salford United, he still refused to budge.

If he didn't say he was quitting, who would dare suggest the national team stop calling him up?

As long as Brother Wang didn't step down, he, Fu Xiaofeng, would forever remain the "Crown Prince," unable to become the king, and his era in the national team would never begin.

While Brother Wang was still operating beyond his expected expiration date, an even more formidable talent named Chi Zhen emerged in the Chinese team.

Following the failure at the 2035 Asian Cup, the newly appointed coach He Zhenyong took charge and directly established a tactical framework centered around Chi Zhen, willingly offending Wang Lie and enduring cyberbullying from Wang Lie's fanbase to do so...

As for Fu Xiaofeng, who had previously been regarded as "Wang Lie's successor," he was simply ignored.

Chinese fans used to nickname him the "Crown Prince."

Now, that nickname had been given to Chi Zhen.

And he had acquired a new moniker—the "Deposed Crown Prince"...

The old emperor hadn't abdicated yet, while the pursuit of the new crown prince was aggressively breathing down his neck.

Thus, caught right between the old and new generations, he found himself in an awkward spot.

He had neither succeeded Wang Lie nor created a new golden age for Chinese football alongside him.

Looking back on his former ambitions and grand designs, it all felt like an utter joke.

He couldn't even remember when he stopped treating Wang Lie as his idol, role model, and goal.

It was probably around the same time he stopped treating the creation of a new peak for Chinese football as his own ideal.

What brilliant future for Chinese football? What new history for Chinese football?

What did any of that have to do with a deposed crown prince like him?

If the sky fell, the tall guys would hold it up. After Wang Lie retired, there was still Chi Zhen; when was it ever his turn to worry about the future of Chinese football?

Whatever, let it be...

Fu Xiaofeng finished tying his laces, stood up, and stamped his feet, the studs clicking sharply against the locker room floor.

Then he turned to his partner and said: "Still looking at the news? Time to head out for training."

Reluctantly, Yssalah put down his phone, pulled on his training kit, and hurried off to catch up with Fu Xiaofeng.

***

After lining up to shake hands with their opponents and show sportsmanship, the young players of the Aves Star youth team gathered by the sidelines to thank the fans who had specifically come to cheer them on.

Several young players with distinctly East Asian facial features then hurried toward a specific spot in the stands.

"Brother Qin! Brother Qin!"

They waved enthusiastically at the person of East Asian descent sitting in the stands.

Hearing their calls, the man walked down from the stands, hopped right over the advertising boards, and approached the youngsters.

"You guys played great today! A 4-0 clean sheet! Awesome!"

He patted the young players on the shoulder and back one by one, even reaching out to ruffle their hair.

"Hehe!"

The youngsters grinned happily, acting just like stroked cats.

Up in the stands, a few Chinese fans were buzzing with excitement:

"Just like the news said, Qin An really came to watch the youth team match! Look, staking out the youth team side was the right move after all!"

"Qin An truly loves Aves Star! After all these years, he still insists on coming to watch the youth team games..."

"Well, duh! This place is basically his home turf, of course he comes back often."

"Come to think of it, Aves Star has nurtured a lot of Chinese players over the years, but Qin An is the only one who ended up establishing himself in the first team. Isn't that cost-benefit ratio a bit too low?"

"Tsk, you can't calculate it that way. Even if Qin An is the only one who made it into the Star first team, all those other guys could still go to clubs beneath Star's level or lower-division leagues... At least it gave those young dreamers who came all the way from China to Portugal in pursuit of a professional football career a chance to keep going..."

"That's true. Yue Hang didn't get any playing time at Barcelona B back then, but when he went to Melendez in the Segunda División, he actually secured regular minutes, and now he's the starting goalkeeper for a Scottish Premiership team. You could call that 'saving the country through a detour'..."

"So yeah, you don't necessarily have to break into the first team right away. As long as you can stay in Europe, you stand a chance of being noticed. In that sense, I'm quite grateful for Aves Star's support and help toward Chinese football. Even if it's a Chinese-owned club, the owner has been willing to spend real money to back Chinese football for nearly twenty years now, which is truly remarkable. Look at this batch of kids in the youth team—who knows, maybe one or two of them will make it into the national team like Qin An did later on?"

Amidst the chatter of the fans, Qin An was chatting with the young players of the Aves Star youth squad.

However, the topic of their conversation had nothing to do with today's youth match, nor did it concern Qin An himself.

"Brother Qin, did you watch Uncle Wang's recent matches?"

As soon as Qin An heard them mention "Uncle Wang," a smile broke across his face: "How could I possibly have missed it? I'm the number one 'Wang fan' in the national team! Haha! These past few days have been absolute bliss for me!"

The handful of sixteen- and seventeen-year-old youngsters were equally excited. Since Brother Qin was a devoted fan of Wang, they, as younger players at the same club, naturally followed his lead and held a deep affection for Wang Lie.

Of course, some still had doubts: "Uncle Wang is already thirty-eight, so why does it feel like his form is getting better and better?"

Qin An chuckled: "That's why I always say Brother Wang is no ordinary man! Normally, a player's form should drop off a cliff by thirty-eight, but Brother Wang isn't ordinary!"

"Do you think Uncle Wang can make a comeback to the national team this time?"

Qin An answered with absolute certainty: "Duh! Of course! If he still couldn't make the national team with performances like this, Coach He really wouldn't want his job anymore!"

A bunch of youngsters wore expressions that clearly said, "Only Brother Qin would dare say something like that..."

In the distance, Chinese fans waiting to get Qin An's autograph and take photos with him noticed he was still chatting with the youth players, and grew curious:

"What are they talking about? They look so happy..."

"Probably talking about just winning 4-0, they played really well today after all..."

"More and more young players are popping up now, Chinese football is really getting better and better!"

***

Yue Hang watched as the football was crossed from the flank into the penalty area.

He immediately roared at the top of his lungs: "Mine!"

Simultaneously rushing out of his goal line, he leapt toward the flight of the ball, raising his hands high to pluck it out of the air amidst the crowded penalty area.

Upon landing, he collided with a nearby player, but he paid no attention to that, bursting out from the pack instead, winding his arm back all the way, and hurling the ball forward down the pitch:

"Away you go!"

His teammate Zeng Pu was waiting up front to receive it.

After gathering Yue Hang's long throw, Zeng Pu drove forward on the counter-attack.

However, tightly marked and disrupted by an opposing defender, he quickly lost the chance to launch a dangerous break.

In the end, he could only forcefully win a throw-in, at least retaining possession.

"Ah!"

Seeing Zeng Pu squander the counter-attacking opportunity from the back, Yue Hang couldn't help shaking his head in disappointment.

Up front, Zeng Pu gave Yue Hang a slightly embarrassed thumbs-up to acknowledge that the pass had been a good one.

Seeing this, Yue Hang still had to offer words of comfort and encouragement.

"No worries! All good!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs in his native tongue.

Then, putting his hands on his hips, he stood on the edge of the penalty box like a spectator, continuing to watch the training match.

He figured that based on this performance, Zeng Pu probably still wouldn't make the starting lineup for the weekend's match.

Sigh, and before all this, he was even bragging to me about how we'd meet up in the national team...

He could afford to dream back when Brother Wang's form was poor and he had no games to play.

Now, with Brother Wang's god-like form, Zeng Pu was running out of the right to even dream...

He shook his head.

He shook it for his teammate Zeng Pu, and also for Chi Zhen, a teammate he had known since their days with the youth national team.

With Brother Wang in such phenomenal form, his return to the Chinese team would undoubtedly mean reclaiming his role as the focal point.

Even though Coach He favored Chi Zhen, facing a Brother Wang who had scored nine goals in his last six matches, Coach He probably couldn't keep him glued to the bench anymore, right?

Thank goodness I'm a goalkeeper!

Yue Hang thought to himself with a subtle sense of relief.

At the very least, he didn't have to worry about competition in the national team.

Though only twenty-five, he had already secured the starting goalkeeper spot for the national team through sheer merit.

After all, he was the only goalkeeper in the Chinese team playing as a regular starter for a European club.

And not in some lower-division league either—it was Scotland's top flight, the Scottish Premiership.

Even if it wasn't one of Europe's top five leagues, the standard of the Scottish Premiership was certainly nothing to scoff at.

Securing a starting spot here was definitely nowhere near as easy as outsiders imagined.

Especially in the position of a goalkeeper.

Across the entire Asian football landscape, only China, Japan, and Australia had goalkeepers starting regularly for European teams.

Players in other positions, even if they played in Europe, weren't guaranteed a national team call-up.

Take forwards, for instance.

Zeng Pu, being a forward and even older than him by a year, hadn't made the national team.

But the goalkeeper position was utterly unique; as long as you could play abroad and establish yourself as a starter in Europe, a national team spot was practically guaranteed.

This was also one of the reasons why Yue Hang, when he couldn't get playing time at Barcelona B, preferred to join Segunda División side Melendez rather than return to China to play in the Chinese Super League.

Even though several clubs in the Chinese Super League had shown interest in him as a prodigy goalkeeper at the time.

He knew that to achieve greater growth, he had to stay in Europe. Returning to play in China at that time would have been easy, but getting back out would have been a hassle.

Subsequent facts proved that staying in Europe had been the right choice.

This was why, when Brother Wang had reached an almost desperate impasse a while ago and still refused to return to China, many people couldn't understand why he was so stubborn, yet Yue Hang completely understood him.

With the deepening reforms and advancement of Chinese football, the domestic league standard had also seen significant progress and improvement, nurturing plenty of talent.

Yet compared to Europe's mainstream leagues, a considerable gap remained.

Otherwise, why would those exceptional talents cultivated by domestic youth academies and leagues scramble to play in Europe?

Because they knew where the true peak of football was.

Japan, China's neighbor, faced a similar reality with its football.

The Japanese national team possessed great strength, and many Japanese players plied their trade in Europe, but that didn't mean the level of the domestic Japanese league could compare to Europe.

Unless they were completely out of options and had no European clubs willing to take them, those overseas Japanese players generally wouldn't choose to return and play domestically.

Though the gap between Asian football and European football had narrowed compared to twenty years ago, it was still very much present.