Two short whistles, followed by one long one—the unmistakable sound of full time.
For China, it was a whistle that would never be forgotten.
In this scorching summer.
On this wild midsummer night.
On the grand stage of the Brazil World Cup.
Against all odds, the Chinese team had fought its way out of the Group of Death.
For the first time in history, they had reached the World Cup knockout stage.
In an instant, the stadium exploded.
Chinese fans roared at the top of their lungs.
They shouted until their voices cracked.
Faces flushed red, eyes burning with emotion.
So many years of waiting.
So many sleepless nights filled with hope and disappointment.
So many tears shed for this single moment of joy.
No one could stay calm now.
The drummer hammered the snare as if trying to punch straight through the drumhead.
The stands surged like waves.
From above, the crowd looked like a massive red tide—rolling and rising.
The sound was overwhelming. Exhilarating.
On the CCTV broadcast, Duan Xuan fought back tears, his voice trembling as he spoke through clenched teeth:
"We've qualified! We've made it to the World Cup knockout stage! China… is here!"
He paused, took a breath, then continued:
"We've imagined countless times what it would be like for China to reach the World Cup. We did that. Then we dared to imagine the knockout stage—and after twelve long years, we've done it again."
"For twelve years, we've pictured what it would feel like."
"But now that it's really happened… we realize words are simply not enough."
"I think everyone watching at home feels the same. During the World Cup, we argue about teams—some support the Netherlands, some Germany. But in the end, we're all Chinese fans."
"When China steps onto the World Cup stage, no matter who you support, they all become opponents. Because our only true team… is China."
Duan Xuan inhaled deeply, forcing a smile through the tears.
"Let's congratulate the players. China has reached the World Cup knockout stage. This hot summer isn't over yet. The five-star red flag will continue to fly on the World Cup stage!"
As he finished, Duan Xuan began clapping uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his face.
...
From the bench, coaches and substitutes flooded onto the pitch.
Ouyang Fei sprinted among them, his young face glowing with excitement and pride.
Even though he hadn't played a single minute, he felt honored—deeply honored—to be part of this team.
He ran past the coaching staff straight toward the back line.
His target was clear.
Kai.
Ouyang Fei launched himself forward and tackled Kai to the ground.
"Brother Kai! Brother Kai! You were incredible!"
He hugged him tightly, shouting again and again.
Kai lay on the grass, grinning broadly. After a moment, he couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Even he—usually so composed—was overwhelmed by joy.
As he tried to sit up, more teammates piled onto him one after another.
Kai didn't resist. He gently patted backs and shoulders.
Many of them were crying.
But these were tears of happiness.
Every match in the group stage had been a battle. Every point had been hard-earned.
And now, they had their reward.
The greatest praise of all.
"We did it!"
...
On the sidelines, Liu Hongbo embraced Zhang Chen and the rest of the coaching staff. The veteran coach was openly crying.
As the head coach who led China into the knockout stage, Liu Hongbo had written his name into history.
Since taking over in 2003, he had spent eleven relentless years rebuilding the national team.
This achievement wasn't just personal—it proved that domestic coaches could succeed at the highest level.
From this night on, Liu Hongbo would stand as a monumental figure in Chinese football.
Nearby, emotions overflowed in different ways.
Wang Yi cried openly.
Chen Man laughed until his face hurt.
Fernando Kairui threw his head back, joy written all over him.
Everyone celebrated in their own way.
On Spanish television, a commentator spoke in Spanish with visible emotion while watching Fernando:
"Fernando Kairui chose Chinese nationality—a decision we once believed was a mistake. At the time, we thought he belonged in the Spanish national team."
"But today, he has silenced all doubt with his performance."
"This Chinese team has surprised us. We have to admit—they delivered an incredible group-stage campaign."
"One win, two draws, undefeated—and into the knockout stage. Brilliant."
"And this team's future is even more exciting. All four of their core players are under 25. What they'll look like at the next World Cup is something worth anticipating."
"And who knows—stronger players may yet join them."
Cheers continued to echo through the stadium.
Kai didn't celebrate for long before walking over to Cazorla.
He pulled him into a brief hug.
"Don't be too hard on yourselves," Kai said quietly.
Cazorla forced a bitter smile.
"We were awful tonight," he admitted. "I still don't understand what went wrong."
Le Kai raised a hand calmly.
"These aren't things we need to worry about. Someone else will take responsibility," he said. "What matters now is staying focused. Don't forget—we still have a massive challenge ahead of us."
Cazorla blinked, then his eyes suddenly lit up.
He looked at Le Kai, his expression brightening. "Captain… I can call you that now, right?"
With Vermaelen gone, Kai had become Arsenal's first captain—rightfully so.
Le Kai patted Cazorla on the shoulder.
"The holidays are coming up, but I don't want to see you relaxing too much because of this loss. Keep training. I'll be checking on you when we're back at the club."
Cazorla grinned. "That strict, huh?"
Le Kai laughed lightly. "We're aiming for something big. There's no room to slack off."
Cazorla chuckled twice and waved it off. "Don't worry."
Before leaving, Cazorla offered his congratulations sincerely.
"Congratulations, Captain. You earned this win. Your World Cup journey isn't over yet—I'll be following every step."
Le Kai nodded. "I'll do my best."
Afterward, the two exchanged jerseys. Kai draped Cazorla's shirt over his shoulder and headed toward the stands.
The moment the Chinese fans saw him, the stadium erupted into thunderous applause.
Kai's performance in the group stage went far beyond "excellent."
Without him, the Chinese team simply would not have reached this level.
At this point, nearly every tactical element of the team revolved around Kai's pressing, interceptions, and ball distribution.
Although the current squad couldn't fully unlock his playmaking range the way Arsenal did—due to structural limitations—fans didn't mind at all. This version was already more than good enough.
After briefly acknowledging the supporters, Kai was called over for post-match interviews.
As the Man of the Match, he was interviewed first by the Brazilian media and the event organizers.
They sent over a strikingly beautiful female host.
Kai wasn't immune to beauty, but this was a match interview, and the World Cup came first. His focus never wavered.
The host interviewed Portuguese, and Kai responded smoothly.
When she asked, "How would you assess the Spanish team?"
Kai paused briefly before answering:
"I don't think we're in a position to judge a defending champion. I can only talk about this match. Even though we won, we don't have the right to mock a team that won the World Cup and two Euros within four years. I don't know what went wrong for them today, but honestly, it worked in our favor. We won. We qualified for the World Cup knockout stage. That's what matters."
His response helped reduce the ache of Spanish fans slightly.
They were already hurting after the loss. Being ridiculed would have only made things worse.
Of course, Kai wasn't trying to please anyone.
He was simply being honest.
Spain played poorly in this match—but that didn't make them a bad team.
This was still a side that had reached the very top of world and European football, seen views and heights Kai himself had yet to touch.
That alone deserved respect when they were down.
...
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