17: Chapter 17 No way, is this Chinese kid really that weird?!

"Yu Bai!!!"

A voice-cracking roar almost tore the microphone of the livestream room apart.

"You are my god!!!"

The streamer Streamer sprang up from his chair, clutching his head with both hands, his eyes wide as saucers, staring at the white number 21 figure on the screen who had just completed a solo goal. His facial muscles were somewhat distorted from excessive excitement, and he didn't even notice the spit flying onto the camera lens.

"Holy crap! Is this even playing football?!"

His voice was hoarse and incoherent, "This is a crime! A naked crime! Dribbling from midfield, Passing one, then another, then another! Finally, he even faked out the goalkeeper so badly he jumped into thin air! A gentle tap... damn! Brothers, this goal! This goal!!!"

He panted heavily, trying to organize his words: "Played one match for Tottenham U18, and jumped straight to Tottenham U21! Came off the bench, got the ball for the first time, and pulls this off! A long-distance run, dribbling past three people, a one-on-one with the keeper, and as calm as a thirty-year-old veteran! Let me ask you, in the past, present, or future of Chinese football, who could pull off a goal like this?! Huh?! Is there anyone?!"

He slapped the table hard, making it bang: "No! Absolutely not! This is the future! Yu Bai is not a nepotism hire, he isn't! He's the real deal! Handsome and skilled, I'm putting it out there today!"

The livestream chat exploded. Massive amounts of [Awesome!!!], [Holy crap!!!], and [Fake!!!] flooded the screen, making it almost impossible to see the video. But amidst the frenzy and unbelievable exclamations, there were always some "I alone am sober while the world is drunk" comments stubbornly floating up:

[Who doesn't eat dumplings during the New Year? Overhyping a fluke goal for a lifetime?]

[Is this it? Compare him to the Chinese National Football Team? Is Yu Bai better than Wu Lei or Sun Ke? Answer me!]

[The goal was beautiful, I admit. But frankly, it was just luck, the opposing defenders underestimated him.]

[Stupid streamer, this is the future of Chinese football? You're climaxing over a U21 goal.]

[What a joke! It's just a youth team match, anyone who didn't know better would think they won the World Cup.]

...

Streamer watched those cynical and mocking comments drifting by. The ecstasy from the goal was doused by a bucket of cold water, and the fire in his heart flared up again. He grabbed his water cup, took a big gulp, slammed it onto the table, faced the camera, his expression darkened, and his tone grew heavier:

"Some brothers, I understand. Did you bet on Everton U21? Lost, didn't you? Bottling up anger with nowhere to vent, and watching Yu Bai score feels as miserable as if he slept with your wife, right?"

He spoke very fast, with the unmasked aggression typical of live streaming, "I tell you, being salty is useless! This goal, if you let Wu Lei try it, he couldn't do it! If you let Sun Ke try, he couldn't either! This isn't just eating dumplings, this is pure skill!"

He paused, staring at the camera, enunciating every word as if to nail them into the screen:

"Today, I'm putting it out there. Yu Bai is the 'answer' that we have been waiting for in Chinese football for so many years! He might not be the only answer, but he is definitely the one that looks most like the answer so far! I, Streamer, said this! Post this as proof!"

Just then, a brightly colored comment from an old viewer slowly drifted by:

[Just a reminder to the streamer, Yu Bai was born in Hong Kong, moved to England at age 8, and grew up in London. Technically speaking, he can represent China, Hong Kong, or even England. He hasn't chosen yet, don't jump the gun on him representing the Chinese National Football Team.]

Streamer saw this comment. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat felt blocked by something. The excitement and aggression on his face slowly faded, replaced by a more complex expression mixed with confusion and a hint of helplessness. He was silent for two or three seconds, which was extremely rare in his noisy livestream.

Then, he averted his gaze, no longer looking at the arguing comments, his voice lower and calmer:

"...Alright, no more arguing. It's pointless. Let's... continue watching the match."

He looked back at the match footage, but his eyes were a bit unfocused; that "I am the one" spirit from earlier had quietly leaked away by half.

...

Editors at major sports websites had their fingers flying across their keyboards. The GIF of Yu Bai's goal spread at a viral speed, accompanied by increasingly sensational headlines:

Hupu: "Descent of a God! Young Chinese player Yu Bai scores a solo goal on his Tottenham U21 debut, what level is this goal?"

Dongqiudi: "Dribbling past three! Yu Bai comes off the bench to destroy Everton U21 with a solo goal, the dawn of Chinese football?"

Sina Sports: "Explosive! 17-year-old overseas player Yu Bai scores a stunning goal, performing a solo run!"

Tencent Sports: "Calmness beyond his age! Yu Bai's first U21 goal is an ultimate individual show, who exactly is he?"

...

On the sidelines, Kieran McKenna and John McDermott stood side by side. Kieran McKenna had his hands in his suit pockets, but his fingers were unconsciously twisting the fabric inside. John McDermott had his arms crossed, his chin slightly raised, watching the number 21 on the pitch who was currently being surrounded by his teammates.

The two looked at each other.

Kieran McKenna's lips moved, wanting to say something, but it finally turned into an extremely complex eyebrow raise that mixed shock, pride, and an "I knew it all along" sentiment.

John McDermott didn't have any exaggerated expression, but the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes piled up with a smile. He shook his head slightly, letting out a satisfied "heh" from his throat that was almost a sigh. Everything was understood without words. That feeling of "picking up a diamond on the beach that no one noticed, and after wiping it clean, finding it incredibly brilliant" flowed silently between them.

...

In the stands.

Jonathan Barnett leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, not missing a single frame of the entire process of that goal just now. At this moment, his eyes flashed with a sharp, excited light unique to a veteran hunter seeing top-tier prey.

"Miss Linda," he turned his head, his voice steadier and much more solemn than before, "I think we can talk formally. I am willing to become Yu Bai's agent."

He paused, seemingly confirming the pronunciation, "Is that how you say it? Yu Bai?"

Wen Wan was still immersed in the shock of that goal, her heart beating a bit fast. Upon hearing this, she quickly adjusted her expression, revealing a polite smile: "Yes, Mr. Barnett. Generally in formal occasions or according to English habits, he would be referred to by his surname 'Yu'. But as far as I know, he is more accustomed to people calling him by his full name 'Yu Bai'."

"Yu Bai..."

Jonathan Barnett repeated it on the tip of his tongue, nodded, and a smile appeared on his face, "Good. Then I will call him 'Yu Bai' from now on. That's a nice name."

What did he see? Not just a brilliant goal. What he saw was a rare, hard-to-train "ability to realize talent." A world-class strike can be a fluke, but like what Yu Bai just did—making the right decisions consecutively while sprinting at high speed, using rhythm changes and simple feints to dribble past players, and finally being able to calmly change his Shooting method when the goalkeeper was right in front of him... this requires top-tier ball sense, strong self-confidence, and an extremely calm mind at critical moments. These traits cannot be faked.

He liked this kind of high-ceiling bet. Just like Gareth Bale back in the day. Bale might not have been "the best player in the world" like Messi or Ronaldo, but Jonathan Barnett was able to leverage his precise judgment of his explosive talent and future potential to make him the first player in football history with a transfer fee exceeding 100 million. Why was Real Madrid willing to pay such a sky-high price? Because they also believed that the sky was the limit for that Welsh winger. Yu Bai might have various flaws: thin physique, immature defense, lack of experience. But regarding his ceiling, Jonathan Barnett, with his sharp eye and years of experience, smelled that "if everything goes well, it could be extraordinary" scent.

That was enough. Enough for him to place his bet.

The 4-1 score on the pitch, combined with that individual performance worthy of being selected as the goal of the round in the youth League, earned Yu Bai the trust of his Tottenham teammates almost instantly.

A subtle consensus—that "this kid is a bloody genius"—began to spread among the players in white jerseys.

A few minutes later, Alex Pritchard received the ball on the right wing and was immediately surrounded.

Instead of forcing a breakthrough or Passing back, he looked up at the left flank, made a slight adjustment, and struck!

A precise long pass spanning the entire width of the pitch arched like a white rainbow, crossing the halfway line, soaring over the heads of all the defenders, and dropping perfectly into the open space on the left flank.

Yu Bai had already started his run.

He turned sideways, cushioned the ball gently with his chest, and it landed obediently in front of him.

This time, the Everton right-back dared not be negligent and immediately lunged forward, hoping to disrupt him before he could steady the ball.

But Yu Bai's control was as smooth as if he had practiced it a thousand times.

The moment he touched the ball, he used the outside of his right foot to nudge it slightly to the front right, while simultaneously dropping his shoulder and accelerating in the opposite direction—the inside.

A simple nudge and change of direction, combined with a feint of his center of gravity.

The Everton right-back, having lunged too hard, saw everything blur before his eyes.

As he tried to turn, his foot slipped, and he nearly tripped over himself, left only to watch helplessly as that white figure slipped past him and dribbled away.

Clean, crisp, and almost excessively effortless.

"Wow!!!"

A spontaneous wave of appreciative gasps and applause erupted from the stands.

This time, it wasn't just the home fans; even some neutral scouts and reporters couldn't help but applaud this display of effortless dribbling.

Flowers blossoming at his feet, dribbling with ease.

These eight words began to form in the observation notes and minds of some onlookers.

On the sideline, Everton U21 manager David Unsworth's face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.

He tugged forcefully at the hem of his shirt, shouted a few things at the pitch, and then turned to wave his hand sharply toward the bench.

A substitution.

He took off the right-back who had been thoroughly beaten and brought on Gethin Jones from the bench, a player with a tougher defensive style but almost zero offensive contribution.

Jones jogged onto the pitch, but Unsworth grabbed him, pointed at Yu Bai, who was tracking back in the distance, and instructed him through gritted teeth: "Gethin! I want you to mark that Chinese kid tight! Stick to him like glue! Don't let him turn so easily again, and don't let him dance in front of me again! Do you understand?!"

Gethin Jones was burning with fighting spirit, nodding heavily, his eyes fixed fiercely on Yu Bai as if he were his mortal enemy.

...

The 71st minute.

Jones carried out his manager's instructions, following Yu Bai almost everywhere.

When Yu Bai received the ball on the left flank and attempted to cut inside, Jones made a very risky but decisive defensive choice: a sliding tackle!

His foot did indeed graze the ball, but his sliding tackle also brought Yu Bai down hard.

"Beep—!"

The whistle blew.

The referee ran over and, without hesitation, pulled out a yellow card for Jones, who was still sitting on the ground.

This was Jones's second yellow card of the match.

A dozen minutes earlier, shortly after coming on, he had been nutmegged by Yu Bai and, in a fit of rage, kicked him from behind, earning his first yellow card.

Two yellows became one red.

The referee's hand pointed firmly toward the sideline.

Jones froze.

He knelt on the turf, holding his head in his hands, seemingly unable to accept the result.

Less than twenty minutes after coming on, entrusted by the manager with the heavy responsibility of man-marking, he had failed to defend and ended up getting sent off himself.

He punched the grass in frustration, slowly climbed to his feet, and with his head down, walked heavily toward the player tunnel amidst the jeers of the home fans and the calm gaze of his opponent.

On the sideline, manager David Unsworth's expression could no longer be described as merely "ugly."

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the sky, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, as if trying to breathe out the frustration and disbelief in his chest.

He looked at the No. 21 Chinese kid, who was standing there calmly chatting with his teammates, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of absurdity.

"He's not even that fast! How is he so good at dribbling? No, is this Chinese kid really that wicked?!"

...

Tottenham won a Free kick in an excellent position.

It was on the left side of the penalty arc, about twenty-three meters from the goal, perfectly suited for a right-footed player.

Yu Bai walked up to the ball.

He didn't place it immediately but instead looked at the original first-choice Free kick taker, Alex Pritchard, who had just provided the pass to him.

Pritchard looked over as well.

"Alex," Yu Bai said, his voice clear amidst the noisy pitchside, "this Free kick... I want to try it."

If Yu Bai had said this twenty minutes ago, Pritchard might have thought this newcomer was overestimating himself.

But now, looking at Yu Bai's calm yet determined eyes, and recalling his earth-shattering goal and effortless dribbling, the bit of restraint and authority that belonged to a senior player in Pritchard's heart quietly gave way to recognition of his ability and a touch of curiosity.

He wanted to see what else this Chinese kid could bring to the table.

"Of course." Pritchard nodded, even taking two steps back to yield the spot.

"You won this Free kick, so you should certainly take it."

"Thank you," Yu Bai said.

"Don't thank me." Pritchard smiled and patted his back.

"You earned this with your performance. Go take it, and let me see your technique."

Yu Bai didn't say anything else, just nodded at Pritchard.

He accepted and cherished this respect and opportunity he had earned with his performance on the pitch.

Now, all he had to do was prove that this trust was well-deserved.

He bent down, carefully placed the ball, stepped back, and began to measure his run-up with his strides.

One step, two steps, three steps, four steps.

He stood still.

Behind the goal, the stands became a bit quieter, and everyone watched with bated breath.

Everton goalkeeper Matthew Hewitt felt as if he were facing a formidable enemy.

He loudly directed his teammates to form a wall, four tall players standing close together to block the near post.

He himself stood on the right side of the goal, the far post.

For a Free kick at this distance, the goalkeeper has to gamble and choose one side to focus on.

Relying on his intuition and his impression of Yu Bai's Passing technique earlier, Hewitt gambled that Yu Bai would shoot for the near post, using a curve to bypass the wall.

Yu Bai was also observing.

His "Beckhams Curve" to the near post required extreme precision to clear the wall.

Shooting for the far post, guarded by Hewitt, offered more space but required more intense rotation and speed, while also needing to deceive the goalkeeper's center of gravity.

He scanned the near post blocked by the wall several times, seemingly weighing his options and looking for a gap.

The run-up began.

It wasn't fast, but his stride was firm.

He swung his leg and struck the ball!

The inside of his right foot curled a powerful inward-spinning arc!

The ball lifted off the ground, spinning violently!

Hewitt's heart tightened, and his body subconsciously shifted half a step toward the near post—a reflex of an excellent goalkeeper anticipating a save.

But the trajectory the ball traced in the air...

"Oh no!"

Hewitt's pupils constricted; he realized instantly that he had been tricked!

He forced his body to turn, using all his strength to dive toward the far post!

His body fully extended, his fingers stretching desperately!

"Bang!!!"

A crisp and solid thud—not the sound of the ball hitting the net, but the sound of the ball slamming into the inside of the far post!

Immediately following was the "swish" sound of the net being lifted and trembling.

With the help of the post, the ball bounced into the net!

5-1!

Hewitt's body, fully committed to the dive, slammed heavily against the goalpost at this moment.

His left thigh took a solid knock; he let out a muffled groan and collapsed in front of the goal line, unable to get up for a moment.

Yu Bai was still standing at the spot.

He didn't sprint to celebrate, but slowly lowered his right leg, raised his hands above his head, and a bright, cloudless, and extremely radiant smile bloomed on his face.

He watched his teammates rushing toward him, his expression seemingly saying silently: "Brothers, how was that?"