A New Rivalry Ignited

Yang Yang lay back on his bed, eyes drifting up to the ceiling, where posters of Ronaldo and Marco van Basten stared down at him like silent mentors. He felt a pang of disappointment twist inside him—Kuyt had pulled ahead in the scoring race again. 

He had been inching closer, feeling the gap close as each goal brought him nearer to the top. But now, Kuyt had extended his lead once more. It was as if the Dutch striker, unpredictable as ever, had either failed to score at all or had suddenly burst forth, finding the back of the net effortlessly. 

Yet, beneath the frustration, Yang Yang couldn't deny a flicker of excitement. The thrill of competition pulsed within him. Wasn't this how a true challenge should feel? If Kuyt had faltered, allowing him to slip into the lead unchallenged, would it have been as satisfying? 

"Three goals," he murmured, steadying his resolve. There were still five rounds left in the league, plenty of time to close the gap. Kuyt's scoring streak had always been unpredictable—who knew how long it would last? 

"And if he can score in bursts, why can't I?" Yang Yang thought, a renewed spark of determination lighting up his expression. He wasn't just chasing Kuyt; he was chasing the greatness represented by the faces gazing down at him from above. 

The posters on his ceiling were more than decorations—they were symbols of his ambition. Since his early days in Almere, he had looked up to them every night, silently promising to push himself further. When he moved to Oude Kerk, the posters came with him, a constant reminder of what he was striving for. 

Ronaldo, a legend of the Eredivisie, had once set the standard as the youngest player to reach both 25 and 30 goals in the league. That record, that path of relentless achievement, had become Yang Yang's benchmark, the vision he pursued with every sprint, every shot, every goal. 

"Just three goals," he whispered to himself, his focus sharpening. 

As he closed his eyes, ready to dive into the Dream Training System, his phone buzzed softly on the bedside table. 

A message notification from mobile QQ appeared on Yang Yang's phone screen. 

"Are you sleeping?" Su Ye's message popped up, a caring greeting at an unexpected hour. 

Yang Yang chuckled to himself and typed back, "Yeah, I'm asleep right now." 

"Hee hee, you're so talented! Even managing to reply on QQ while you sleep!" 

Yang Yang could almost see her face, lit up with a teasing smile. Even through the screen, her warmth reached him. 

"Duke Zhou himself whispered in my ear, saying, 'Su Ye messaged you on QQ,' so naturally, I woke up," he replied, adding a playful emoji. 

A moment later, a response came with a laughing expression. "How's your leg? Are you healing well?" Su Ye asked, keeping up her daily check-in. 

"It's fine, just a few scrapes and bruises. The coach is being cautious and doesn't want me to play yet, but honestly, I'm ready to go," Yang Yang replied. 

"Good! Don't stress too much. With your skills, I'm sure you'll catch up to those three goals in no time," she reassured him. 

"Thanks," he replied, smiling at her encouragement. Then, a thought crossed his mind, and he asked with a hint of curiosity, "Wait, it's so late—have you been keeping track of Feyenoord's matches?" 

If he remembered correctly, Su Ye wasn't much of a football fan, and the match hadn't been broadcasted live in China. Besides, considering the time difference, it was around two or three in the morning back in China. 

Su Ye replied, "No, I just happened to check while studying late." 

"Alright, I'll let you get some rest. Goodnight," she added, logging off before he could respond. 

Watching her profile fade offline, Yang Yang felt a wave of warmth wash over him. Despite the distance and the odd hours, she still cared enough to check in, even if she tried to play it off casually. 

For someone who supported him from afar, he knew he had to keep pushing forward—both for himself and for the people who believed in him. 

... 

... 

April 21, Dutch Cup Semifinals 

Ajax traveled to face Willem II in an intense away clash for a spot in the Dutch Cup final. As per the club's lineup decisions, Yang Yang was once again left off the roster, watching from the sidelines as his teammates battled on the pitch. Despite Ajax's best efforts, they fell short, losing 1-0 to Willem II, ending their cup run in the semifinals. 

In the other semifinal matchup, Feyenoord faced PSV Eindhoven in a tightly contested game. After a 1-1 draw in regular time, PSV triumphed 5-3 in the penalty shootout, securing their place in the final. Interestingly, Kuyt, Feyenoord's goal-scoring leader, was also absent from the roster. 

Back to League Action 

Just days later, on the weekend, Ajax returned to the Amsterdam Arena to host De Graafschap in the 30th round of the Eredivisie. The atmosphere was buzzing, with Ajax fans eager to see their team bounce back after the cup exit. 

As the game kicked off, Ajax wasted no time pressing forward, their players determined to make an early impact. Yang Yang, fired up after his brief break, took to the field with a burning intensity, eager to narrow the three-goal gap separating him from Kuyt at the top of the scoring charts. 

In just the second minute, Yang Yang made a sharp run into the penalty area from the right, exploiting a gap in De Graafschap's defense. With precise timing, Pienaar sent in a cross from the left wing, and Yang Yang connected cleanly, driving the ball into the net to open the scoring. Ajax was up 1-0, and the stadium erupted in applause. 

But Yang Yang wasn't finished. Eight minutes later, he found himself linking up with Maicon down the right side. The Brazilian fullback whipped a low cross into the penalty area, and Yang Yang skillfully controlled the ball. With a quick pivot, he unleashed a right-footed strike that sailed past the goalkeeper, doubling Ajax's lead to 2-0. 

Just two minutes after his second goal, Yang Yang made a blistering run down the right flank, cutting past defenders before sending a pinpoint cross into the box. De Jong surged forward to meet it, leaping to connect with a powerful header that found the back of the net. Within twelve minutes, Ajax had stormed to a commanding 3-0 lead, and the entire Amsterdam Arena roared with joy. 

The fans were on their feet, chanting Yang Yang's name in unison, celebrating his extraordinary performance. 

"A brace and an assist from Yang Yang!" the commentator's voice rang out through the stadium speakers. "In only twelve minutes, Yang Yang has put on a masterclass, scoring twice and setting up another goal. This is a truly dominant display." 

"We can see his determination to clinch the league's top scorer title. He's now up to 24 goals, just one shy of Ronaldo's record of 25 goals in a single Eredivisie season." 

As the match resumed, Yang Yang continued pressing forward, unsatisfied despite his impressive contributions. His hunger was evident with every touch, every sprint, and every shot. The fans responded in kind, filling the stadium with resounding cheers and applause, their voices echoing in support of their star player. 

In that moment, Yang Yang wasn't just a player—he was the heart of Ajax, driving his team and the crowd into a fevered celebration of football. 

... 

... 

In the end, Ajax triumphed over De Graafschap with a 4-1 victory at the Amsterdam Arena, thanks in large part to Yang Yang's two goals and one assist. His explosive start had set the tone, and fans were buzzing with anticipation, hoping to see him secure a hat-trick. Yet, after conceding three quick goals, De Graafschap tightened their defensive lines, placing special focus on marking Yang Yang and effectively stifling his freedom on the field. 

Despite the increased pressure, Yang Yang remained relentless. Before being substituted in the second half, he managed a clever play, drawing defenders toward him on the right wing. With a sudden cross-field switch, he found Maxwell on the left, who quickly assisted Sneijder in adding Ajax's fourth goal of the match. 

By the game's conclusion, Yang Yang had contributed 24 league goals and 16 assists—virtually carrying Ajax's attack on his shoulders with remarkable consistency. 

Over in Eindhoven, PSV faced Feyenoord in a high-stakes clash. Hiddink's side struck first, with young talent Ibrahim Afellay netting an early goal in the 13th minute. But just nine minutes later, Feyenoord's Salomon Kalou linked up with Kuyt, who coolly slotted home the equalizer. 

As the first half drew to a close, Heesselink put PSV back in the lead. The back-and-forth continued into the second half, with Kuyt equalizing yet again in the 51st minute. However, PSV answered immediately, as Afellay assisted Van Bommel to score, reclaiming the lead within just a minute. 

In the 71st minute, Park Ji-sung provided a well-timed assist for Afellay, who completed a brace and added an assist to his impressive performance. By full-time, PSV emerged victorious with a 4-2 scoreline, and Kuyt left the pitch with two goals to his name. 

Kuyt's recent form had been electrifying. After struggling to find the net in earlier rounds, he had now tallied five goals in two matches, demonstrating the streaky brilliance that made him such a formidable striker. 

With only four rounds left in the league, Kuyt led the scoring charts with 27 goals, while Yang Yang followed closely with 24. 

Dutch media quickly latched onto the storyline, their headlines reflecting the shifting momentum in the race for the Eredivisie Golden Boot. Many outlets speculated that Kuyt's victory was now inevitable, declaring him the likely top scorer of the season. The narrative painted Yang Yang as the runner-up, his valiant efforts potentially falling just short. 

Following Feyenoord's clash with PSV, Kuyt spoke candidly to the media, acknowledging the fierce competition for the Golden Boot. 

"Yang Yang is young, but he's incredibly talented," Kuyt admitted. "His scoring consistency has been impressive all season, and he's in excellent form lately. I wouldn't say anything is certain right now." 

When asked if he felt confident about claiming the title of top scorer in the Netherlands, Kuyt was resolute. "I'm ready to give everything I have. This season has been the best of my career, and I want to end it on a high note." 

On the Ajax official website, Yang Yang echoed the sentiment of fierce determination in his own interview, emphasizing that the race was far from over. 

"There's no denying that Kuyt is an exceptional striker," Yang Yang said. "He's been a benchmark for me, someone I've been working hard to catch up with. I might be three goals behind, but I believe I still have a chance." 

Drawing an analogy to a football match, he added, "It's like we've only played 80 minutes—the game isn't over. I won't stop pushing until the final whistle." 

Yang Yang also expressed his respect for Kuyt, mentioning that, regardless of the outcome, he was certain they would become friends. 

"Kuyt is a player I truly respect. I think we'll have a lot in common, and I look forward to being friends with him, whatever the final result." 

When asked if they might sit down for a chat someday, Yang Yang laughed and said, "Maybe once I've outscored him." 

The race for the Eredivisie Golden Boot was now as captivating as the league title itself, drawing fans across the Netherlands into the rivalry. With Kuyt holding a three-goal lead and representing the pride of local talent, much of the public threw their support behind him. Ajax fans, however, rallied fiercely behind Yang Yang, their emerging star. 

Even the Dutch national team coach, Marco van Basten, found himself in a difficult position when asked to comment. As both players held places dear to him—Kuyt, a beloved figure, and Yang Yang, a promising international—it was a choice he wasn't inclined to make publicly. 

"For Yang Yang, this season has been a test of perseverance," Van Basten noted. "To have come this far is already a victory in itself, regardless of what the final numbers say." 

Meanwhile, AZ Alkmaar's head coach, Louis van Gaal, took a more definitive stance. "Though Yang Yang trails by three goals, I still believe he'll emerge as the top scorer," Van Gaal stated firmly. "Kuyt shouldn't grow complacent. Yang Yang is the kind of player who fights until the very end, down to the last moment and the final second." 

As the season drew closer to its conclusion, all eyes remained fixed on the scoreboard, waiting to see if Yang Yang's relentless pursuit would bring him within striking distance—or even beyond. 

... 

... 

In the quiet, west suburbs of Manchester, behind Manchester United's renowned Carrington training base, a small hill rose, covered with a soft, well-kept lawn and dotted with a few mature pine trees, their trunks wide enough to be encircled by an adult's arms. 

After every Carrington training session, a young Manchester United player would walk up the hill, his cleats sinking into the grass as he prepared to practice alone. Here, the hill became his private training ground, the pine trees his imaginary defenders. He preferred it this way—isolated, undisturbed, focused solely on his game. 

He didn't feel lonely in these solitary moments; in fact, he thrived in them. Since he was young, he had always practiced in seclusion, believing that silence sharpened his concentration. 

Recently, his attention was fixed on perfecting the Cruyff turn. Though a fundamental move for a professional, he couldn't seem to perform it seamlessly on the pitch. His attempts in training often felt forced, lacking the fluidity he craved. 

This shortcoming nagged at him, especially after watching Ajax's rising star, Yang Yang, execute the same move effortlessly in a recent match against Villarreal. Yang Yang, wearing the number 11 jersey, had dazzled the crowd with a brilliant solo performance. He initiated with a smooth Cruyff turn, gliding past defenders before stringing together an array of step-overs. Villarreal's goalkeeper rushed forward in a bold attempt to intercept, but Yang Yang anticipated the move with ease, slotting the ball into the net in a clinical finish. 

The skill, the precision, the composure—it was all anyone could talk about, with praise for Ajax's 18-year-old sensation reverberating across Europe. 

Meanwhile, he himself had just turned twenty. His journey had begun at Sporting Lisbon, where he debuted in the Primeira Liga before Manchester United scouted him. Within a year, he was signed to Old Trafford with a remarkable transfer fee of £13 million. Sir Alex Ferguson, the legendary manager, had entrusted him with the club's iconic number 7 shirt, worn by greats like George Best, Eric Cantona, and most recently, David Beckham. 

From that moment, the spotlight intensified, the expectations mounting with every game. Some critics dismissed him as too flashy, too obsessed with footwork; others admired his raw talent and potential. Opinions divided—some claimed he was unworthy of Manchester United's fabled number 7, while others predicted he would add a new chapter to its storied legacy. 

Yet, he tuned out the media noise, channeling his energy into honing his craft. He set one goal after another, each a step toward greatness, each a measure of his own growth. 

Today, his focus was clear: Yang Yang, Ajax's number 11, had become his latest benchmark, the standard he aimed to surpass. 

At just eighteen, Yang Yang had taken the Eredivisie by storm, racking up twenty-four goals and sixteen assists—a record that dazzled even the most seasoned analysts. 

What made Yang Yang truly remarkable, however, was his ability to surprise. He wasn't always seen as a natural talent, but his recent performance against Villarreal challenged that perception. With imaginative footwork and sharp instincts, Yang Yang had proved he possessed a genius for the game. 

Intrigued and inspired, the young Manchester United player had watched replays of Yang Yang's display against Villarreal countless times, studying every movement. It struck a chord, pushing him to master the Cruyff turn with similar finesse. He'd spent days on that hill, trying to perfect the move, but progress was slow, frustrating. 

The pine trees on the hill were stationary targets, unchanging and unfeeling. Practicing with lifeless objects lacked the intensity of real play. On the pitch, opponents were alive, unpredictable—a moving challenge that pushed his skills further. 

He knew that the difference between training alone and facing live defenders was vast. Yet, his dedication to the craft was unwavering. Every repetition was a step toward perfecting his form, a step closer to achieving the fluidity he admired in Yang Yang. 

... 

... 

"Cristiano." 

From below the hill, a middle-aged coach in a Manchester United tracksuit called out. His hair was streaked with gray, and his presence was unmistakable—it was Carlos Queiroz, Ferguson's trusted assistant. 

Cristiano Ronaldo paused his training and turned, recognizing Queiroz immediately. Queiroz had been instrumental in bringing him to Manchester United, having strongly recommended the then-18-year-old Portuguese talent to Sir Alex Ferguson. It was that recommendation that opened the door for Cristiano at Old Trafford. 

But shortly after Cristiano's arrival, Queiroz had left Manchester United to take up a challenging role as head coach at Real Madrid. His time with the Galacticos, however, had been brief and turbulent, leading him back to Manchester as Ferguson's assistant once again. 

"Hi, Carlos," Cristiano greeted, his expression reserved. 

Queiroz approached, taking in the scattered remnants of training on the hill and understanding immediately. 

"I told you, Cristiano," he began in a steady, gentle tone. "You can't always train alone. You need a partner out here, someone to push you, to create that competition." 

Cristiano nodded but remained quiet, his face betraying the hint of resistance. 

Queiroz sighed. He knew the inner workings of Manchester United were tense. Ferguson was planning a squad overhaul, phasing out aging stars like Roy Keane and focusing on young talents, including Cristiano and Wayne Rooney, who had just arrived with tremendous expectations as one of England's brightest prospects. 

Rooney, as a native talent, naturally commanded respect among the squad, but Cristiano's situation was different. His solitary nature and distinctive, sometimes flamboyant, style of play set him apart. To some teammates, it was admirable, but to others, it felt out of sync with the traditional Manchester United ethos, making him the target of criticism. 

Queiroz placed a firm hand on Cristiano's shoulder. "Remember what I've told you before?" he asked, his tone filled with both advice and affection. 

"You've got the talent to become Manchester United's main star. But you need to adapt. You can't keep playing only for yourself. Trust your teammates, pass the ball earlier, and let them play off you. Working with them will only make you stronger." 

Cristiano gave a slight nod, though his expression was distant, and Queiroz could tell he was only partially listening. 

"You have something the others don't, Cristiano," Queiroz continued, hoping his words would resonate. "You're young, and your potential has no ceiling. Many of them are at their peak or nearing it—they're stable in who they are as players. But you can still rise. Work with them, learn from them, and let them elevate you." 

Cristiano nodded again, though he remained silent, his usual stoic expression masking his thoughts. Queiroz understood. This was the part of Cristiano's personality that made him such a mystery to Ferguson and his coaching staff. His quiet determination and independence set him apart but also made it challenging for him to find his place within the United dressing room. 

Queiroz knew that getting Cristiano to integrate fully into the team's culture was an uphill battle, but he also sensed the potential in him to become something extraordinary—if he could just find a way to connect. 

"Did you watch the UEFA Cup match last night?" Queiroz asked suddenly, his tone probing. 

Cristiano shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "I fell asleep early." 

Queiroz nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the young Portuguese forward. Despite his youth, Cristiano was far more disciplined than many of his peers—his daily routine almost bordering on the obsessive. For all his raw talent, his lifestyle was so rigidly structured that even the most seasoned professionals might find it difficult to match. 

"Sporting Lisbon lost at the Amsterdam Arena," Queiroz continued, his tone casual. 

Cristiano's attention sharpened, and he looked up quickly. "They lost?" 

"1-3," Queiroz replied with a slight shrug. "It was a pretty rough defeat for them." 

Cristiano's brow furrowed, concern evident in his eyes. "Who scored the goals for them?" 

Queiroz saw the genuine interest in his voice, a curiosity about his former club, and smiled faintly. "It was right-back Rogério, assisted by Sa Pinto." 

Cristiano nodded thoughtfully. "Pinto's a great player." 

Then, with a hint of eagerness, he asked, "What about Ajax? Did Yang Yang score?" 

Queiroz paused, sensing that Cristiano had shifted his focus to his young rival. "Yang Yang didn't score," he said, keeping his tone neutral. 

"Didn't score?" Cristiano's surprise was evident, his brow furrowing slightly in disbelief. 

"No, no goals," Queiroz confirmed. "But he provided three assists." 

"What?" Cristiano blinked in disbelief. 

Queiroz chuckled at Cristiano's reaction, sensing the younger player's growing intrigue. "Yang Yang didn't start the match but came off the bench in the second half. Rogério scored for Sporting in the 29th minute, but after Yang Yang came on, he assisted Maxwell, then Pienaar, and finally Anastasiou. The three assists came exactly ten minutes apart." 

Cristiano processed the information in silence, his mind racing. The coincidence of the timing had already sparked a discussion across European media, with some speculating that Yang Yang had intentionally set up those assists at such precise intervals. 

Despite the surprise, Cristiano's expression hardened. His competitive nature flared to life. From a young age, he had always been determined to be the best, never allowing himself to be outdone by anyone—especially not by someone two years younger. 

There had been comparisons between him and Yang Yang in the British press, drawing parallels between their early careers. Both had participated in the Toulon Cup, where Yang Yang was the top scorer and player of the tournament. While Cristiano had found success in the Primeira Liga, at the same age as Yang Yang, he had yet to achieve the same level of recognition. Meanwhile, Yang Yang was now contending for the Eredivisie Golden Boot and the title of best player of the season. 

For Cristiano, such comparisons stung. They were unfair, he thought. But more than that, they were unacceptable. 

Queiroz watched him closely. He could see the fire in Cristiano's eyes, the fierce determination to prove himself. "Cristiano," he said softly, almost like a reminder, "you have to understand that at a club like Manchester United, you can't do it all alone. You need to trust your teammates. You have to learn to rely on them." 

Cristiano's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. 

"You also need to learn to deal with the media and the fans," Queiroz continued, his tone firm but understanding. "Only when they recognize you as a complete player will you truly be considered one of the best. Competing with yourself is important, but it doesn't matter if no one else sees it." 

Cristiano looked away, lost in thought. He was used to competing against himself, striving for perfection in every movement, every game. But perhaps, just perhaps, Queiroz had a point. 

The road ahead was long, and as much as he wanted to be the best, he would need more than his own talent to get there. 

Queiroz sighed softly, watching the tension build in Cristiano. Having spent his career working with young players, he understood well that each had a unique personality. Yet, he couldn't ignore that Cristiano's fierce independence and solitary mindset were beginning to hold him back, creating barriers to his own growth. 

He knew he had to nudge him in the right direction. 

"I've saved the video from last night's match on my computer," Queiroz offered, his voice calm but purposeful. "If you're interested, you can watch it later. This was Yang Yang's first hat-trick of assists, and it's caught the attention of all the major media outlets in the Netherlands and beyond. Even the boss called us this morning, asking about him." 

Cristiano's eyes flickered, a reaction that didn't escape Queiroz's notice. 

Rumors had been circulating in the press—Premier League clubs like Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal, and Liverpool were reportedly showing interest in Yang Yang. Of those, only Manchester United and Chelsea had the financial muscle to pursue him seriously. If Yang Yang came to United, with Giggs already commanding the left and Scholes the middle, it would likely place Yang Yang on the right flank. 

A realization settled over Cristiano, tightening his jaw. Where would that leave him? 

Without realizing it, he had clenched his fists, his nails pressing into his palms. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, his jaw set in determination. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice a low, unyielding murmur. 

"I don't need to learn from him. I won't lose to him. I refuse to." 

Queiroz observed him carefully, noting the steely resolve in his expression. From this moment on, Cristiano had set his sights on a new goal, an unspoken challenge that would drive him forward. 

In his mind, he now had two rivals. Outside of Rooney, he would now measure himself against Yang Yang.