112: Chapter 112 The North London Derby! Mertesacker's Smile Reveals a Dagger!

March 5, 2016, North London, White Hart Lane.

The Premier League title race was in its white-hot stage. A direct clash between second and third, old rivalries, plus the media storm triggered by "Yu Bai's national team choice"... All these factors combined to make this North London Derby, already explosive, suffused with suffocating gunpowder smoke before it even began.

In the stands, white and red were clearly demarcated. Songs, chants, boos, and curses intertwined into a boiling ocean.

The voice of on-site commentator Martin Tyler, transmitted through the broadcast system, clearly reached every corner of the stadium and into the ears of countless fans around the world:

"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the Premier League Matchday 29, the marquee clash between Tottenham Hotspur and Arsenal!"

"Let's look at the starting lineups."

"The hosts, Tottenham, with Mauricio Pochettino fielding a 4-2-3-1 formation today:"

"Goalkeeper: Hugo Lloris."

"Defenders: Kyle Walker, Toby Alderweireld, Kevin Wimmer (replacing the injured Jan Vertonghen), Danny Rose."

"Double pivots: Eric Dier and the deeper-positioned Christian Eriksen! This is an interesting adjustment, placing the creative hub Christian Eriksen in a deeper position, perhaps to better facilitate the attack and cope with Arsenal's pressing."

"Attacking line: Yu Bai starts as the left winger! Dele Alli as the attacking midfielder, Erik Lamela as the right winger."

"Lone striker: Harry Kane."

"Korean forward Son Heung-min is on the bench today."

"The visitors, Arsenal. Wenger's team is plagued by injuries, with Čech, Laurent Koscielny, Jack Wilshere, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Santi Cazorla, and several other key players out. They are also fielding a 4-2-3-1:"

"Goalkeeper: David Ospina."

"Defenders: Kieran Gibbs, Gabriel Paulista, Per Mertesacker, Héctor Bellerín."

"Double pivots: Francis Coquelin, Mohamed Elneny."

"Attacking midfielders: Alexis Sánchez, Mesut Özil, Aaron Ramsey."

"Center forward: Danny Welbeck."

"A critical six-pointer is about to begin!"

[Christian Eriksen as a defensive midfielder? Mauricio Pochettino's adjustment is a bit bold!]

[Arsenal's injury list... it's a disaster.]

[Yu Bai as a left winger! Attacking Arsenal's right flank, head-on against Héctor Bellerín and Per Mertesacker!]

Inside the player tunnel, the atmosphere was heavy and subtle.

The players of both teams were lined up on either side, waiting to enter the pitch. White and red, sharply divided. The air was filled with silent competition and suppressed hostility.

Yu Bai stood near the front of the Tottenham line, expressionless, his gaze calmly fixed on the light at the tunnel exit. He could feel several complex gazes from the Arsenal side—some curious, some scrutinizing, some disdainful, and some filled with undisguised hostility.

Just then, a tall figure detached from the Arsenal line, wearing an exaggerated, social smile, and walked toward Yu Bai.

It was Per Mertesacker, Arsenal's captain for the night, the German center-back.

"Hey, Yu!"

Per Mertesacker used his English with a heavy German accent, his voice booming as if afraid the cameras in the tunnel wouldn't pick up the audio. He spread his arms, making a warm gesture of "old friends reunited":

"Long time no see! The cameras are all rolling!"

"I don't want to be 'cyber-bullied' on social media by your... fanatical fans again."

He blinked, his tone bantering, but there was no warmth in the depths of his eyes.

"So, come on, give me a friendly hug and let the whole world see that there's 'no problem' between us."

As he spoke, he had already reached Yu Bai, and without waiting for a response, he spread those long arms to pull him into a hug.

Yu Bai: "..."

He looked at the smiling, yet somehow hypocritical German tower in front of him, feeling speechless inside.

But he didn't refuse; in front of the cameras, he couldn't be bothered to quibble over such things.

He also raised his arms symbolically, letting Per Mertesacker's solid arms give him a perfunctory, forceful hug, and patted his back.

The hug ended quickly.

Per Mertesacker didn't leave immediately. He kept his arm around Yu Bai's shoulder, leaned in, kept that "friendly" smile on his face, and lowered his voice to a volume that only the two of them could hear:

"I've seen those voices online."

His tone was "concerned." "Saying you're deliberately 'throwing' games in the Premier League so your old club, Leicester City, can win the title?"

"Haha," he chuckled and shook his head. "In my opinion, that's just a joke."

Yu Bai raised an eyebrow, didn't respond, waiting for his "but."

Per Mertesacker's tone indeed shifted, his smile unchanged, but the mockery and malice in his eyes were no longer hidden:

"Cup matches, low intensity, weak opponents, it's normal for you to pad your stats."

"But when it comes to the real deal in the Premier League, especially a derby like tonight..."

He patted Yu Bai's shoulder and said "earnestly":

"You're just not up to it, right?"

"Physique, physical confrontation, experience, willpower... these things can't be made up for by playing little tricks."

A dagger hidden in a smile.

Friendly on the surface, but every word was meant to strike the heart, intended to provoke and belittle.

After hearing this, Yu Bai also revealed an equally "friendly" smile.

He looked into Per Mertesacker's provocative eyes, unhurriedly, and responded in clear English:

"You big German dummy."

"Your trash talk level is just as frustratingly slow as your turn speed."

"Whether I can play in the Premier League, or whether I'm qualified to play in the Premier League..."

Yu Bai pointed at himself. "I have three Player of the Month trophies. Do you?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Per Mertesacker's lower body, and added maliciously: "Oh, you might have a pair of balls."

"You!" Per Mertesacker's smile froze instantly, his face darkening.

Yu Bai had already reached out, pushed away the arm still draped over his shoulder with force, the smile on his face vanishing instantly, his eyes cold:

"The play is over. You can roll back to your line."

"When you're on the pitch, and you become the joke of the whole game..."

Yu Bai said, enunciating every word, "No one will say you were 'throwing' the game."

"They will only say—"

"You, Per Mertesacker, are truly trash."

Having said that, Yu Bai stopped looking at him, turned around, faced the tunnel exit again, and straightened his back.

Per Mertesacker stood where he was, his face turning from blue to white, his chest heaving slightly. He glared fiercely at Yu Bai's back, spat on the ground, and then turned to walk back to the Arsenal line.

Returning to the line, he exchanged a knowing look with the right-back Héctor Bellerín standing diagonally in front of him and nodded slightly.

Tonight, Arsenal's right-flank defense would be his and Héctor Bellerín's "area of responsibility," which was exactly the direction Yu Bai would be attacking. They had already discussed the countermeasures.

Moreover, they possessed an "advantage"...

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