Late February in London carried a biting chill. As the Europa League clash concluded, a fine mist began to descend from the charcoal sky, forcing pedestrians along the Seven Sisters Road to pull their collars high.
But inside the Seven Sisters tube station, the atmosphere was anything but cold. Fans in green and white scarves were still buzzing from the sheer theater they had just witnessed. Goals, red cards, a comeback, and a last-minute equalizer—it was every dramatic trope of the beautiful game condensed into ninety minutes. Most captivating of all was the sight of The Wolves, bloodied and a man down, refusing to break at White Hart Lane.
"Do you think we can actually go all the way? Win the Europa League?" one fan asked, his breath misting in the air.
"Why not? Spurs are a Premier League giant, and we just marched into their backyard and knocked them out. This team has the steel for it."
"And look at David, Kevin, and Bas—they're evolving every week. Imagine what they'll look like in three months!"
"I just hope the Round of 16 draw is kind. No more giants for a while, please..."
As the supporters boarded their trains to return to reality, a few miles away in the team hotel, Dieter Hecking was addressing his squad.
"One night off. Enjoy yourselves, but I want everyone back here tomorrow morning sharp. We're heading home." Hecking pointed to the clock. "In three days, we have Augsburg. Don't underestimate them; they're seventh in the Bundesliga for a reason. And six days after that, it's the DFB-Pokal against RB Leipzig. They may be in the second tier, but they're sitting third and have the quality of a top-flight side."
Hecking knew when to tighten the leash and when to let it slack. "So, keep it respectable. Don't go too far off the rails."
"Oh yeah!" Junior Malanda cheered, practically bouncing. He'd heard legends of the London nightlife—places where you might bump into the likes of Gerrard or Rooney. "Kevin, you in? I've already mapped out the best spots!"
Before De Bruyne could answer, David Qin shrugged. "Sorry, Junior. We've already got plans."
They were meeting Michèle and Bright for dinner, followed by a trip to the Westfield shopping center.
"Is it that girl from before?" Malanda asked, his eyes wide with envy. "Does she... does she have any friends? Pretty ones?"
"You'll have to ask Kevin about that," David teased with a sly grin. "I'm just the third wheel tonight."
—
David and Kevin caught a cab to Westfield. During the ride, David scrolled through the other Europa League results. Inter, Roma, Torino, Napoli, Fiorentina, Ajax, and Sevilla had all advanced.
"Why are there so many Italian teams?" David asked, curious.
"High coefficient points," De Bruyne replied. "They've had a lot of historical success in the Champions League—Milan in '07, Inter in '10."
"Those points will probably drop off in a few years," David mused. He liked the nostalgia of Serie A from the turn of the millennium, but the Calciopoli scandal had triggered an exodus of stars and a downward spiral of revenue.
"David," Kevin said suddenly, his voice turning serious. "If you were to move next season, is there a club you'd want to play for?"
The question wasn't out of nowhere. Scouts from the Premier League and La Liga were hounding their agents daily.
"Where? Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead. I just want to finish this season strong. Don't you feel the weight of the challenge ahead?" David thought of the Bayern machine and the European powerhouses waiting in the wings.
"It's a massive weight," Kevin agreed. He had told the media he didn't come to Germany just to watch Bayern lift trophies, and he meant it. But a three-front war was a grueling prospect.
"Anyway, enough shop talk," David said, shifting into "relationship advisor" mode. "Did you get the gift I told you to pick up?"
"Do you really think Michèle will like it?" Kevin asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
"Listen, you can never go wrong with a classic bag or perfume. Besides, she's crazy about you; you could give her a blade of grass from the pitch and she'd frame it."
They arrived at the restaurant where Bright and Michèle were already waiting.
"Good evening! So, did the performance meet your expectations?" David asked.
"Exceeded them!" Bright chirped. "That first goal... the Rabona trap into the V-pull? I think I stopped breathing! And the equalizer—I didn't think Bas would pass, but you knew, didn't you? You were already gone!"
David basked in genuine enthusiasm. "Spoken like a true fan. Since you're my 'number one,' this match-worn shirt—signed, of course—is yours." He pulled the jersey he'd worn in the first half from his bag.
"Did you wash it?" Michèle teased.
"Do I look like a slob to you?" David retorted with a laugh.
"I have something for you too!" Bright produced two boxes from beneath the table. "A Burberry trench and some Dr. Martens boots. I saw them and just thought they'd suit you. Michèle helped me get your sizes from Kevin. I've also got a bag of souvenirs for you, including a United shirt signed by Sir Alex Ferguson."
"You've gone all out," David said, genuinely touched as he took the gifts. He glanced sideways at Kevin. "I'm guessing you're the one who leaked the fact that I'm a United fan?"
"Try the Brussels-style beef," Kevin said, expertly pivoting the conversation. "It tastes just like home."
As they ate, a hand tapped David on the shoulder. He turned to see a familiar face: Harry Kane was there with his girlfriend, Katie.
"Great game tonight, David. Your performance was flawless," Katie said, her arm looped through Harry's.
"Thanks, Katie. And you two make a great couple—I saw that photo with the fans earlier," David replied.
After the pleasantries, Kevin sighed. "I get the feeling you're going to have friends in every league in Europe soon."
"That's the plan," David joked. "Free meals every time we play away."
While the players slept, the media was in a frenzy.
The Guardian:Wenger spotted at White Hart Lane. Given Arsenal's recent form, the 'Professor' may be hunting for a catalyst. Expect a summer shake-up at the Emirates.
The Mirror:Roman Abramovich took to social media to compare David Qin to a young Ronaldinho, praising the 'sheer joy' of his play. Chelsea set to join the bidding war for the Wolfsburg duo.
The Sun:Wenger's Secret War Chest: The £70m 'Ferguson Fund' has matured in the Bank of England, accruing £2.5m in interest. Wenger to use the 'change' to launch a bid for Qin.
Social Media Buzz:
@GunnerGalore: Is the Professor really going to bring David Qin to the Emirates? We need that spark!
@BBlueIsTheColor: No way. Arsenal can't outbid Roman. Plus, Mourinho has the pull.
@RedDevilsDaily: Wait, The Sun is reporting David Qin was out on a double date?
@LondonEats: I saw them! Qin and De Bruyne with two stunners at Westfield.
@TacticalGnome1: David Qin is still a minor! Leave him alone and come for me instead!
@BundesligaxBanter: Kids these days need to stay disciplined. Don't go full Ronaldinho too early. We want a long career, not just a flashy few years.
March brought the first hints of spring to Germany, but there was no warmth for The Wolves at the WWK Arena.
It was Matchday 23 of the Bundesliga. David Qin started on the bench, with Perišić and Caligiuri taking the flanks.
"Augsburg are set up to frustrate," Derek Rae observed during the broadcast. "They are the ultimate mid-table enigma. No superstars, no wonderkids, no glittering history. Yet, they sit seventh. Why? Because they play without the pressure of the spotlight. Their goal is simple: don't lose, stay up, and if a giant is tired, take their lunch money."
On the pitch, the London hangover was palpable. The Wolves were sluggish, their passes lacking the zip from Thursday night.
In the 69th minute, the trap snapped shut. Abdul Rahman Baba dispossessed Caligiuri and triggered a lightning counter-attack. A slick wall-pass with Ji Dong-won saw Baba ghost past Vieirinha and into the box.
He cut the ball back to the edge of the area. Ji Dong-won was there, unmarked. He caught the ball on the half-volley, a screaming strike that left Benaglio clutching at thin air.
0-1!
The WWK Arena exploded. Augsburg fans were delirious—beating the title contenders at home was a dream. Ji Dong-won celebrated wildly; as a South Korean international who had missed out on Asian Cup minutes, this was his statement to the world.
Hecking looked down the bench, his eyes landing on his young talisman. It was time to see if the " protagonist of White Hart Lane" could do it on a cold Sunday in Augsburg.
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