A New Chapter, A New Challenge

When Yang Yang woke up, he felt disoriented. His feet were pressing against something strange, and it didn't feel right. Instinctively, he kicked a few times. Almost immediately, Ibrahimović's deep, irritated roar filled his ears. 

"Who is kicking my face?" grumbled the Swedish striker. 

Yang Yang blinked, startled awake, and quickly realized he was wedged between three people on his narrow single bed. He glanced down and saw Vermaelen and Ibrahimović squeezed alongside him. 

What is going on? 

He couldn't remember how they ended up in his bed, or why. For a moment, he considered asking, but seeing Ibrahimović—usually so particular about his appearance—still sleeping soundly, despite having Yang Yang's foot pressed against his face, made him laugh. The big guy can sleep through anything, even with my stinky feet on him. 

Struggling to sit up, Yang Yang spotted Maxwell sprawled out on the floor, half-covered by the bed. At least I'm not the one who got kicked out of bed, Yang Yang thought with a smirk. 

He glanced toward the adjacent bed and recoiled in mild disgust. De Jong had somehow ended up in Sneijder's bed, and they were still asleep, their heads practically touching. Seriously? That's way too close for comfort. 

Yang Yang finally untangled himself, hopping off the bed and moving to the couch. As he sat down, memories of the previous night started to flood back. The night had been filled with pride and joy as Ajax celebrated their Champions League victory at Schalke. He vividly remembered Van der Vaart raising the trophy, the crowd erupting in cheers, and the flood of emotions as they took photos, one after another, with the gleaming trophy. 

But after that, everything became a blur. Yang Yang remembered the dressing room turning into a makeshift dance hall, bottles of champagne being popped open, and someone—he couldn't recall who—attempting a striptease. There were also loud shouts about rushing back to Amsterdam's Red Light District to celebrate. And then someone had handed him a bottle of champagne. 

He winced, rubbing his aching head. I really shouldn't have drunk. Yang Yang couldn't remember what happened after that, but it was clear he'd passed out and had been carried back to the hotel by his teammates, who likely continued the party without him. 

Looking over at De Jong and Sneijder, still blissfully asleep, Yang Yang quickly checked his shirt and shorts. Good. Everything's intact. He silently thanked the football gods for keeping him out of trouble. 

"Why did I drink?" Yang Yang muttered to himself, already regretting the decision. But regrets were pointless now. 

His body reeked of champagne and sweat, a suffocating combination that made him grimace. Without wasting another moment, he grabbed his things, headed for the bathroom, and took a long, refreshing shower. Once clean, he changed into fresh clothes and returned to the chaotic room. 

Looking at his teammates sprawled across beds and the floor, he couldn't help but shake his head. If a reporter saw this, it would be a scandal that would rock the football world. 

Leaving the room, Yang Yang wandered through the hotel, finding it eerily quiet. The rest of the Ajax players and coaching staff were still fast asleep, recovering from the wild celebrations. A passing waiter informed him that the team had been partying late into the night. 

"You were the only one who was brought back early," the waiter added with a cheeky grin. 

Yang Yang waved the comment off, embarrassed by how things had unfolded. 

As he made his way past the conference room, something caught his eye through the glass door. There, in the corner, Van der Vaart was slumped over, cradling the Champions League trophy like a prized possession. He had clearly hidden himself and fallen asleep while holding the cup. 

Yang Yang chuckled to himself. No wonder the team had been so happy. 

Six months ago, no one would have believed this was possible. Back then, Ajax had been struggling just to qualify for the group stage. The team had been in disarray, the atmosphere tense, and morale low. It wasn't until Van Gaal, as technical director, stepped in to stabilize the situation, convincing Ibrahimović and Van der Vaart to reconcile, that Ajax had found new life. 

And now, they were Champions League winners. 

Looking back, the journey had been nothing short of extraordinary. For Yang Yang, the changes in his life over the past year had been so monumental that it often felt overwhelming. Whenever he reflected on it, he felt as if he were living in a dream. 

"Thank you, Zax," Yang Yang said quietly, speaking to the system that had been guiding him in his private Super Training Ground. 

"Don't thank me," Zax replied softly. "Everything you've achieved is because of your own hard work. You've earned it." 

"Still," Yang Yang insisted, smiling to himself, "thank you." 

... 

... 

As Yang Yang stood at the entrance of the hotel lobby, staring out at the beautiful garden and the lakeside park in the distance, the rising sun bathed everything in a soft, golden light. The scene felt almost surreal, like a fresh beginning after the whirlwind of the past few days. 

Just as Yang Yang lost himself in the view, a familiar voice broke the silence from behind him. "How did you get up so early?" It was Van Gaal. 

Startled, Yang Yang turned to see the Ajax technical director approaching with a soft smile. 

"Come out for a walk with me?" Van Gaal asked. 

"Sure," Yang Yang replied. 

The two of them walked out of the hotel and into the quiet, peaceful mountain park nearby. The early morning air felt unusually fresh, carrying with it a faint sweetness. Yang Yang took a deep breath, savoring the calm after the storm of the Champions League victory. 

Van Gaal walked slowly beside him, seemingly lost in thought as he admired the beauty of the park. Neither spoke, and there was no need to break the rare silence between them. They followed the path through the park, taking in the quiet tranquility until they reached a fork in the road. 

"I'm going," Van Gaal said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. 

Yang Yang blinked in confusion. "Huh? Are you going back to the hotel?" 

"No," Van Gaal said, shaking his head. "I'm leaving Ajax." 

Yang Yang froze, stunned by the revelation. "Why? You've done so well. Why leave?" 

Van Gaal smiled faintly. "Truus is right. I'm not suited for the role of technical director. I belong in the dugout, not behind the scenes. I still have something to prove, and I can't shake the feeling that my place is on the touchline." 

Yang Yang could sense that this wasn't a decision made lightly. It wasn't a sudden whim—it was a choice Van Gaal had clearly thought about for a long time. 

A wave of sadness and disappointment washed over Yang Yang. Despite not having many direct interactions with Van Gaal, he had always seen him as a mentor and a friend, someone who believed in him. And now, that friend was leaving. 

With Ibrahimović, Van der Vaart, and Trabelsi also set to depart, Ajax was going to lose more than just players this summer. And now, Van Gaal too. 

"Where are you going?" Yang Yang asked quietly. 

"Not far. North of Amsterdam—Alkmaar," Van Gaal replied. 

Yang Yang nodded. Alkmaar wasn't too far, and he could visit anytime. 

"For months, I've been considering this move," Van Gaal continued. "I even thought about bringing you with me. From the first day I saw you, I hoped you would become one of my players someday." 

Yang Yang smiled. A few months ago, if Van Gaal had asked him to join Alkmaar, he would have jumped at the opportunity without hesitation. But things had changed so quickly, and now, his place was firmly at Ajax. 

"In just a few months, you've grown so much, far more than anyone could have imagined," Van Gaal said, his voice tinged with both pride and regret. "Alkmaar isn't the right place for you anymore. You belong at Ajax." 

Van Gaal's words were calm, but Yang Yang could hear the slight hint of disappointment in them. 

"You know, I was ready to leave Ajax six months ago," Van Gaal admitted. "But that match against Club Brugge—that was the turning point. You and the team gave me one last chance to implement my vision at Ajax. But whether we succeeded or failed, I knew it would be difficult for me to stay here any longer." 

Yang Yang nodded in understanding. He had heard this before, but hearing it from Van Gaal himself made it more personal, more real. 

"Before I go, I'll have Raiola come in to finalize your contract extension," Van Gaal added. "As Ajax's technical director, I'll negotiate every last detail for the club, but as your friend, I want you to get everything you deserve." 

Yang Yang felt a lump form in his throat, unsure how to respond. He simply nodded. 

"As your friend and as a coach, my advice to you is simple," Van Gaal continued, his voice growing more serious. "Keep working on your fundamentals. Your foundation will be the key to your success in European football. The stronger your foundation, the greater your future achievements will be." 

Van Gaal's eyes met Yang Yang's, filled with the wisdom of a man who had seen countless players rise and fall. "You're young, full of energy and potential, but remember—injuries and age will come for all of us. One day, your speed will fade, your dribbling won't be as sharp. What will you rely on then? Without strong skills and a deep understanding of the game, it will be hard to survive in European football." 

Yang Yang's thoughts drifted to Ronaldo, the Brazilian phenom who had once taken the football world by storm. At 17, Ronaldo had been unstoppable, scoring goals for fun and earning a move to Europe. But injuries had taken their toll, and while his speed had diminished, his incredible technique had allowed him to stay at the top. 

Yang Yang couldn't help but wonder: If I lose my speed, what will I have left? 

Van Gaal's words were a timely reminder, urging him to prepare for the future, even when everything seemed to be going well. 

"When are you leaving?" Yang Yang asked, his voice betraying the sadness he felt. 

"I haven't decided yet," Van Gaal replied. 

Yang Yang nodded. "Let me know when you do. I'll come and see you off." 

Van Gaal smiled softly. "Of course." 

... 

... 

By noon, the Ajax squad had slowly begun to wake, one by one. But it didn't take long for the team's playful spirit to reignite as they gathered in the hotel. 

The first big question of the day? Who would be the one to bring the Champions League trophy back to Amsterdam? 

Van der Vaart, who had secretly stashed the trophy and slept with it in the conference room last night, was quickly ruled out of the competition. The rest of the team, however, was still very much in the running, eager to claim the honor. 

After lingering a bit too long at the Berg Hotel, unsure if what they were eating was breakfast or lunch, the team finally boarded the bus and made their way to the airport. 

On the flight from Gelsenkirchen to Amsterdam, the mood was light, full of laughter and banter, but Yang Yang found himself lost in thought. Unlike usual, he didn't doze off. Instead, he gazed out of the window, deep in contemplation. 

Van Gaal was leaving. Ibrahimović, Van der Vaart, and Trabelsi were all on their way out as well. And that morning, Yang Yang had learned that even his idol, Marco van Basten, would be departing. 

When he returned to the hotel earlier that day, Yang Yang had bumped into Van Basten. The legendary striker, now a coach, told him of his decision. The current Dutch national coach, Dick Advocaat, would be stepping down after Euro 2004, and the Dutch Football Association wanted Van Basten to take over. It was an irresistible opportunity for Van Basten, a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage. 

With Rijkaard already managing Barcelona and Gullit set to take over Feyenoord's first team next season, Van Basten would soon be leading the Dutch national team. These three footballing legends, whose illustrious playing careers had lit up European football, were now embarking on equally promising coaching careers, each starting from a position of respect and advantage. 

That morning's conversation had been a farewell of sorts. Van Basten encouraged Yang Yang to continue working hard, honing his skills and focusing on the basics. But his advice also went beyond football. Uniquely, Van Basten urged Yang Yang to keep studying, believing that reading and learning could help players think more critically and analytically. According to Van Basten, education could help players plan better and approach life beyond football with more clarity—something many players, who had dedicated themselves solely to the sport from a young age, often lacked. 

Yang Yang had agreed immediately. Even if Van Basten hadn't mentioned it, Yang Yang had already promised his parents that he would continue his education. 

As the flight landed and the team returned to Amsterdam, the celebrations began in full force. 

The club had organized a grand parade. An open-top bus carried the entire Ajax first team, along with the three major trophies they had won: the Champions League, the Eredivisie, and the KNVB Cup. From the airport, the bus wound its way through the streets, heading first to Ajax's original home, the Olympic Stadium, before traveling south towards the Amsterdam Arena in the city's southeastern district. 

Along the route, Ajax fans lined the streets in droves, cheering and waving flags. Groups of supporters spontaneously joined the parade, turning the city into a sea of red and white. The atmosphere was electric, a true celebration of Ajax's remarkable season. 

For a moment, Yang Yang allowed himself to set aside the distractions in his mind and immersed himself in the joy of the moment, celebrating with his teammates and the thousands of fans who had come out to share in the triumph. 

He knew this was the reality of professional football. Change was constant—players, coaches, and staff came and went. He accepted it, but he also knew it would take time to fully process all the goodbyes. 

... 

... 

"Dad! Mum!" Yang Yang called out, his voice full of excitement. 

The victory parade had finally come to an end, and Yang Yang rushed to a luxury hotel south of his home, where his parents and Uncle Shen Ming's family were staying after returning from Germany. As soon as he stepped through the door, his parents greeted him with wide smiles, especially his mother, Shen Lifang, who couldn't hold back her tears of joy. 

It was a stark contrast to the night before when they had been filled with pride after watching him play in Schalke. Now, her son stood before her as a Champions League winner. She reached out to touch him, gently patting his muscular arms. "You've gotten so strong, but you're still too thin!" she exclaimed. "Make sure you're eating enough." 

Yang Yang smiled warmly, amused by his mother's endless concern. He patiently answered the flurry of questions she had about his life in the Netherlands, his football, and everything else she could think to ask. 

After a while, Yang Yang shared the evening's plans with his parents. "Tonight, the team is organizing a gala dinner. I heard that even members of the Dutch royal family and the prime minister will be attending," he said with a grin. "You're allowed to bring relatives. Do you want to come?" 

But his parents hesitated, ultimately declining the invitation. "We wouldn't be able to communicate with anyone," his father, Yang Yongqiang, explained. "It would just be awkward for us." 

Instead, they were more interested in seeing where Yang Yang had been living. They could hardly wait to visit his residence in Odekerke. With Uncle Shen Ming and Cousin Shen Yuzhu driving, the family set off to tour Yang Yang's rented apartment. 

Upon arriving, they were pleased with the place. However, hearing that Yang Yang often had to cook for himself, his parents couldn't help but worry. Back at home, Yang Yang had always been pampered, rarely lifting a finger in the kitchen. 

While his mother and others toured the apartment, Yang Yang sat in the living room with his father, uncle, and his cousins, Shen Yuzhu and Wei Zheng. The conversation soon turned to family matters. 

Yang Yang already knew that Shen Yuzhu and Wei Zheng planned to return to China, but what he didn't know was that they intended to work for his father's company. This news took him by surprise. 

"I've been thinking a lot lately," his father, Yang Yongqiang, began. "With everything happening, I've talked to a lot of people. Wei Zheng is right—China is hosting the Olympics in 2008, and these years will be a golden period for the sports industry. So, I've decided to launch my own brand." 

Yang Yang's eyes lit up, but he knew the challenges. "That's great, Dad, but starting a brand requires a big investment." 

Growing up in Quanzhou, Jinjiang, the "capital of sports brands" in China, Yang Yang was well aware of how the industry operated. Even though he was still young, he had seen firsthand how intense the competition could be. 

"That's the traditional route," Wei Zheng chimed in, a knowing smile on his face. 

"How so?" Yang Yang asked, intrigued. 

"In Quanzhou, most brands follow a similar model," Wei Zheng explained. "They hire celebrity endorsers, pour money into advertising, and attract agents to expand rapidly. But this method requires significant investment—often tens of millions or more." 

Yang Yang nodded, recognizing the pattern. "Yeah, that's what we've seen with so many brands on TV. All day long, it's sports brands from Jinjiang advertising on the national channels." 

"Exactly. The problem with that model is it's high-risk, high-reward. If the market doesn't respond, it's easy to lose everything," Wei Zheng continued. 

"So, what's your approach?" Yang Yang asked. 

"We're taking it slow," Wei Zheng replied confidently. "On one hand, we'll keep focusing on traditional wholesale and foreign trade, but on the other, we're developing our own brand. But we won't follow the same risky model as others. Instead, we'll focus on controlling our sales channels and investing in independent product development. We want to build from the ground up." 

Both Yang Yongqiang and Wei Zheng shared their ideas for brand marketing and sales strategies. While some of the technical details went over Yang Yang's head, what stood out to him was Wei Zheng's plan to focus on running shoes. 

"Right now, most Chinese sports brands are obsessed with basketball," Wei Zheng explained. "But I think the real opportunity lies in running shoes. Marathons are becoming more popular in China, and the public's interest in running is growing, but this market hasn't been tapped into by domestic brands yet." 

Wei Zheng had clearly put a lot of thought into this, presenting a well-prepared plan that had already won over Yang Yang's father. Though business wasn't Yang Yang's forte, he could see the potential and was eager to support his family's new venture. 

"What can I do to help?" Yang Yang asked earnestly. 

Wei Zheng laughed, shaking his head. "Just keep playing football. That's all the help we need from you." 

Yang Yang looked confused until his father explained. "Do you realize that ever since you became famous, our factory's business has skyrocketed? The city leaders are paying more attention to us now. Not long ago, they offered us a prime piece of land in the economic development zone at a great price. Banks are even offering us low-interest loans to help expand the factory." 

His father smiled proudly. "Your mother and I had saved up for years, hoping to leave you something, but now that you're a football star in Europe, we don't have to worry about that. This opportunity is too good to pass up, so we're going for it." 

Yang Yang felt a swell of pride. He was happy to see his father so ambitious and confident about the future. He trusted that his father, with his steady approach to business, wouldn't take unnecessary risks. 

With Shen Yuzhu and Wei Zheng planning to return to China and help the family business, Yang Yang knew they had a solid team in place. Meanwhile, he would be staying in Amsterdam for a few more days, waiting for the national youth team to fly from China to France for the Toulon Cup. It was an annual youth tournament with a strong reputation in global football, and Yang Yang was eager to join the team. 

Wei Zhen, his other cousin, would be traveling with him, working as a journalist covering the tournament for the national broadcaster. 

As they chatted, Yang Yang's mother returned from touring the apartment. At one point, during the conversation, she mentioned a girl named Su Ye. Apparently, she had been the neighbor of the Wei brothers for many years and had traveled with them to Gelsenkirchen for the Champions League final, but she left for Berlin early the next morning. 

"She's such a sweet girl," Shen Lifang said fondly. "She looks like a fairy and has such a gentle temperament. When she saw me crying, she was so kind and comforting. I've heard she's very talented too—she's good at school, ballet, acting, you name it." 

Uncle Shen Ming chuckled. "Sister, maybe you and Yongqiang should try for another child, give Yang Yang a little sister?" 

The room erupted in laughter, and Yang Yang quickly nodded in agreement, much to his mother's embarrassment. 

"Uncle, that's a great idea!" he said with a grin. 

Shen Lifang blushed and waved her hands dismissively, scolding her son and her brother for their nonsense. "We're in our forties!" she protested. 

Still, the thought lingered. With Yang Yang spending most of his time in Europe, the couple was often left alone, and the idea of having more family around—even grandchildren—wasn't so far-fetched. 

Back in their hometown, young people like Yang Yang were already getting married and starting families. It wasn't unusual, but for now, football remained his first love.