Echoes of Greatness: The Rise of a Global Football Sensation

Yang Yang was still trying to process what he was seeing. Ibrahimović and Van der Vaart? Here? In Utrecht? 

He blinked, wondering if fatigue was playing tricks on him, but no, they were right in front of him, grinning like a couple of troublemakers. 

"Haha, surprise!" 

"Are you surprised?" 

Before Yang Yang could react, a loud burst of laughter erupted behind them. 

"And us!" 

"Are you surprised?" 

"I haven't seen you in over a month. Do you miss me?" 

"God, you're about to become a youth world champion!" 

"Oh, God, you're beat us! I still hate you for this!" 

Yang Yang turned and found himself completely surrounded. 

Sneijder, De Jong, Heitinga, Vermaelen, Maxwell, Maicon, Filipe Luís, Pienaar, Nicklas Bendtner... 

Every single one of his closest friends from Ajax was here. 

"You... why are you all here?!" Yang Yang stammered, still in shock. "You could've at least warned me first! I need to be mentally prepared for this!" 

"Hey, bro," Ibrahimović smirked, throwing an arm around Yang Yang's shoulder. "This is exactly the reaction we wanted." 

His grin turned mischievous as he squeezed Yang Yang's shoulder hard, his voice exaggeratedly indignant. 

"To be honest, you're even bigger than me now, it's too much!" 

Everyone burst into laughter. 

"That's because you're not even trying," Maxwell jabbed at Ibrahimović with a smirk. 

"Not trying?!" Ibrahimović immediately put on his most dramatic offended expression. "I work hard every day! I train my shooting nonstop! If I were still in the Netherlands, I would've easily scored more than 31 goals, crushed Henry, and won the European Golden Boot!" 

Everyone laughed again. Typical Ibrahimović. 

Thierry Henry had just won the European Golden Boot, and everyone knew that Ibrahimović had a long-standing grudge against Arsenal. The idea that he would've outscored Henry if he had stayed in the Eredivisie was very much in line with his usual unshakable self-confidence. 

"Then maybe first you should try scoring more than twenty goals," Yang Yang teased, finally breaking free from Ibrahimović's grip. 

The Swede's expression turned exaggeratedly tragic. 

"You wound me," he groaned dramatically, clutching his chest as if Yang Yang had just stabbed him. 

His career high was only 19 goals, and Yang Yang reminded him of it mercilessly. 

Despite the playful banter, Yang Yang's heart was full. Seeing them here, seeing so many familiar faces, filled him with warmth. 

These weren't just teammates—they were family. 

He quickly ushered everyone into the hotel lobby, gesturing for the staff to bring hot drinks. With the new season approaching, no one was drinking alcohol, so they settled for hot water. 

Even so, the hotel staff were scrambling. 

An entire squad of Ajax stars in one place? 

It was already rare enough to see Sneijder, De Jong, and Heitinga together, but Ibrahimović and Van der Vaart, despite having left the club, had also come. 

The buzz spread through the hotel like wildfire. Fans, journalists, and staff whispered excitedly—was this a full-force Ajax reunion to support Yang Yang? 

In the Netherlands, where Ajax was king, this kind of scene could only mean one thing—the World Youth Championship final was going to be huge. 

Ibrahimović leaned in again, speaking in a dramatic, conspiratorial tone. 

"Yang, listen to me—in the final against Argentina, I've got your back." He pounded his chest like a warrior. 

"You have to beat that Messi kid." 

Yang Yang smirked, shaking his head. 

"It's not that simple," he sighed. 

The truth was, Argentina was a much stronger team than China. 

They had more depth, more quality, and if China wanted to win, it could only be through another defensive masterclass and precise counterattacks. 

Van der Vaart leaned back in his seat, casually stirring his drink, before dropping a statement that made everyone pause. 

"It's true, even though Messi hasn't played many games for Barcelona's first team yet, the Spanish media are already hailing him as their next great genius. They see him as the player who will carry Barcelona for the next ten years, especially alongside Ronaldinho next season." 

His words carried weight. Playing for Real Madrid, he had a close-up view of Barcelona's rising stars. The rivalry between the two clubs was eternal, and any emerging talent from either side was closely monitored. 

Yang Yang turned his head toward Van der Vaart, nodding gratefully. "I know," he replied. "I've watched all of Messi's matches in this tournament. I've studied his movements, his dribbles, how he controls the game. He's dangerous when he gets the ball." 

The room fell into a brief silence, as the weight of that statement settled. 

They were all footballers. They understood the difficulty of what Messi could do on the ball. It wasn't just about raw talent—it was about an unusual level of control and balance, a natural gift that couldn't be taught. 

Sneijder finally spoke up, his tone serious. "Argentina's squad is very strong. Their players are technically gifted, tactically sound, and well-balanced as a team. They attack and defend well, and their midfield can control the rhythm of the game. This is going to be an even tougher match than Brazil." 

Then, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "But it doesn't matter. No matter what, I'm betting on you, Yang. Bring that trophy home, and we'll celebrate properly!" 

"Yeah, that's right! Destroy him!" Vermaelen laughed, clapping his hands. 

Maxwell, seated beside him, shook his head in mock disappointment. "I should be mad at you," he sighed, his voice dramatic. "You knocked out my Brazil, and that hurt my soul… but fine, I'll still support you against Argentina." 

The group erupted into laughter. 

Felipe Luís, who had remained in the Netherlands instead of returning to Brazil, had been listening carefully. As someone who had faced the Chinese team firsthand, he knew exactly how difficult they were to deal with. 

"Our coaching staff analyzed that game after we lost," Felipe Luís admitted. "And honestly? This match against Argentina is going to be even harder for you than playing against us. Argentina is much more structured, and they don't give up spaces as easily. Their transitions are better, and they press harder." 

The mood turned serious again. 

"But…" Felipe Luís paused, his eyes landing on Yang Yang. "We also believe that China has a chance. You are that chance. As long as you play at your best, this final is still a battle to be fought." 

There was no sugarcoating it—the reality of youth tournaments was that a superstar player could change everything. 

Brazil had dominated possession against China, but when it mattered, Yang Yang turned the game around with one goal and one assist. 

Argentina might be better than Brazil, but they still had to stop him. 

"Of course, it's not just about you," Felipe Luís continued. "The whole team has to work together. Your teammates need to give you the support you need. But if they do, then this game is there to be won." 

The pressure on Yang Yang was immense. 

And then, as if that wasn't enough, Ibrahimović leaned forward with a sly grin. "Hey, I actually asked for time off just to come here and watch you play." 

Yang Yang looked at him in confusion. 

The Swede crossed his arms. "If you lose, I'll have to go back to training and stare at Capello's miserable face." He let out a dramatic sigh. "Do you think that's fair to me?" 

The room burst into laughter again. 

At Ajax, Ibrahimović had often clashed with Van Gaal. But after moving to Juventus, he had found himself under Fabio Capello—another notoriously hard-headed coach who demanded perfection. 

For all his arrogance, even Ibrahimović knew that Capello's training sessions were brutal. 

Yang Yang grinned, shaking his head. "Relax," he said confidently. "I'll do my best." 

"Good," Ibrahimović smirked. "Because all of us are going to be in the stadium, cheering for you." 

A wave of applause followed. 

They weren't just saying it—they meant it. 

Sneijder, De Jong, Van der Vaart, Heitinga, Vermaelen, Maxwell, Maicon, Felipe Luís, Pienaar, Bendtner—they would all be there, watching, supporting him in the biggest match of his career. 

Ajax's pre-season training camp was set to begin the day after the final, which meant that for one last night, before the madness of the club season took over, they had all come to see him off. 

Yang Yang looked around, soaking in the moment. 

No matter what happened tomorrow, he would fight with everything he had. 

As the conversation continued, it didn't take long before the Chinese National Youth Team players started noticing the gathering. 

Chen Tao was the first to approach. Among the Chinese squad, he was the most familiar with the Ajax players, having previously trained with them for a few months thanks to Yang Yang's connections. 

With a broad smile, he walked over, greeting Vermaelen and Maxwell warmly. 

Not long after, more and more curious teammates followed. 

The sight of Ibrahimović, Sneijder, and Van der Vaart all in one place was too much to ignore. 

Gao Lin, standing slightly apart from the group, had his eyes fixed on Ibrahimović. 

Both were strikers, both played the same position, but there was something intimidating about the way Ibrahimović carried himself. His confidence, his presence—it was on a different level. 

B Ibrahimović had always been direct, and this time was no different. He had taken note of Gao Lin watching him, analyzing him with quiet intensity. Without hesitation, he pointed straight at the young Chinese striker and declared, "You. Not domineering enough." 

Gao Lin blinked, caught completely off guard. "Huh?" 

Yang Yang, half-expecting something like this from the Swede, quickly translated his words. Gao Lin straightened slightly, feeling a little unconvinced by the criticism. 

"I'm telling you," Ibrahimović continued, crossing his arms, "as a center forward, you have to take control. Be stronger, be bolder, be more ruthless. Those center-backs? They're weak. If they get in your way? Destroy them. Dominate them. Make them fear you. The moment you do that, your teammates will get more space, more chances, and you'll win." 

Yang Yang almost covered his face in amusement. This was classic Ibrahimović—blunt, aggressive, and completely unsubtle. His philosophy was simple—if you're the striker, you need to bully your defenders into submission. 

When translating for Gao Lin, Yang Yang toned it down a little, making it less violent, but the message remained clear. 

Across the room, Feng Xiaoting had already taken the initiative. He had gone directly to Heitinga and Vermaelen, eager to learn from them. Yang Yang had told him beforehand that both were top-level Ajax center-backs, and this was an opportunity to absorb their experience. 

Heitinga and Vermaelen, both amused and willing to help, engaged in a serious discussion with him. They broke down defensive positioning, body movement, anticipation, and aerial duels, sharing insights that Feng Xiaoting rarely had access to in China. 

Eventually, Vermaelen even began whispering tactical secrets, explaining small details about how he and Yang Yang positioned themselves during set-pieces. 

"I'll tell you a secret," Vermaelen smirked. "This guy? His movement on corner kicks is ridiculous. He always fakes one run, then goes the other way at the last second." 

Yang Yang snapped his head toward him, glaring. "Oi!" 

The group burst into laughter, while Yang Yang pretended to lunge at Vermaelen in mock revenge. 

With more players from the Chinese National Youth Team joining in, the atmosphere grew even livelier. 

Before long, the coaching staff began to take notice. 

It wasn't long before Krautzun, the team leader, and even high-ranking officials from the Chinese Football Association and the General Administration of Sport appeared in the lobby. 

Then, the unexpected happened. 

Accompanied by assistant coach De Jong, China's senior national team head coach, Arie Haan, entered the lobby. 

But that wasn't all. 

Behind him, came Van Basten—head coach of the Dutch national team—alongside Ajax manager Ronald Koeman. 

The hotel lobby fell into a stunned silence for a moment. 

If that wasn't enough, Elwin Koeman, Ronald's younger brother, also arrived shortly after. 

In the space of just a few minutes, the Mitland Hotel lobby had turned into a gathering of football royalty. 

The Chinese delegation was in disbelief. 

From government officials to young players, everyone suddenly realized the full extent of Yang Yang's connections in European football. 

Yang Yang had not only earned the respect of his Ajax teammates, but had also gained recognition from some of the most important figures in Dutch football. 

When Yang Yang introduced Elwin Koeman to Feng Xiaoting, the Chinese captain was visibly nervous. This was a big deal. 

But Elwin Koeman's reaction was surprisingly warm. He had been following Feng Xiaoting's progress and saw real potential in him. 

"I like your playing style," Koeman said, smiling. "You're strong, you read the game well, and you're improving. Next season, I'll make sure you get more training opportunities." 

He paused, then added, "For now, focus on the final. If you play well tomorrow, it will be a big step forward for you." 

Feng Xiaoting nodded vigorously, feeling a surge of motivation. 

Meanwhile, Van Basten turned to Yang Yang with his signature analytical gaze. 

"You've had a great season," he said. "And this tournament? You've been excellent." 

Yang Yang nodded respectfully. 

"But you can be even better," Van Basten continued. "You're going in the right direction. Take it step by step, keep growing, keep improving. Win this World Youth Championship—set the tone for what comes next." 

His words carried weight. Van Basten had played at the highest level, won everything, and his advice was a reminder that this was just the beginning. 

Yang Yang felt a deep sense of gratitude. 

Not only had Van Basten come to see him, but so many people had gathered to support him. 

He would never forget this day. 

Yet, as it turned out, the biggest surprise of the day was still to come. 

... 

... 

Although it wasn't their first time playing at Galgenwaard Stadion, FIFA's regulations required both China and Argentina to have separate, staggered training sessions at the venue on the day before the final. 

The Chinese team's session was simple—they familiarized themselves with the pitch, but didn't conduct any heavy drills. The final was looming, and the atmosphere had shifted. 

Everyone felt the weight of the occasion. 

The team had decided after the Brazil match to skip the usual motivational meetings. Yang Yang and Feng Xiaoting had specifically requested that there be no speeches from team leaders or officials. They wanted pure focus—no distractions. 

The request had been granted. 

Yet, despite this, the tension in the squad remained. 

The visit from Ajax players, Alihan, Van Basten, and Koeman had helped lighten the mood, but as night fell, the pressure slowly crept back in. 

Yang Yang could feel it. 

The youth level was vastly different from the senior game—defenses were weaker, and games often favored players with elite individual ability. 

That's why South American teams often thrived at this level. 

But this World Youth Championship final was different. 

Both China and Argentina had prioritized defense. Both had shown strong tactical discipline, and both had one superstar carrying them forward—Yang Yang for China, Messi for Argentina. 

And now, both were in the crosshairs. 

Neither would be allowed the freedom they'd enjoyed in previous matches. 

Yang Yang knew the Argentine game plan—he would be targeted, pressed, fouled, and neutralized at all costs. 

And that's when he realized—the team needed something to break the tension. 

On the bus ride back to the hotel, he took the initiative. 

Instead of silence, he started telling stories—funny, ridiculous, and embarrassing moments he had witnessed or heard about in European football. 

At first, some players listened half-heartedly, still buried in their own thoughts. 

But then, Feng Xiaoting caught on. 

He jumped in, adding his own hilarious anecdotes, making wild impressions of players and coaches. 

Laughter began to spread through the bus. 

Feng Xiaoting, in full entertainer mode, put on a ridiculous facial expression while doing a terrible imitation of Yang Yang, exaggerating his every move. 

The entire bus erupted in laughter. 

"After you're twenty, if you can't find a girlfriend, no one will listen to anything you say anymore," Feng Xiaoting declared dramatically. 

A teammate shouted from the back, "Bro, you don't have much time left!" 

The team burst into laughter again. 

They all knew Yang Yang's birthday was in late October. By the Chinese way of counting age, he was already considered twenty. 

By the time they arrived back at the Midland Hotel, the team was in a much better mood. 

The laughter faded, but the renewed sense of camaraderie remained. 

Yet, as soon as they stepped off the bus, they were greeted by an overwhelming crowd. 

Media reporters, fans, and Chinese supporters from all over Europe had gathered outside the hotel. 

Some had even flown in from China just to witness the final. 

Hotel security had been forced to block entry, but the crowd still erupted when the National Youth Team players stepped off the bus. 

Voices shouted player names, cameras flashed, and fans waved flags. 

Among them, one name stood above all the rest. 

"YANG YANG!" 

His name was being chanted over and over, as if the entire fate of Chinese football rested on his shoulders. 

Yang Yang, maintaining his usual calm demeanor, clasped his hands together in gratitude, bowing slightly before heading into the hotel lobby. 

But as soon as he stepped inside, he noticed something unusual. 

Several of his teammates had come to a sudden halt, staring toward the side of the lobby with stunned expressions. 

Yang Yang followed their gaze. 

Standing there was a girl—young, with a shy expression, radiating a natural elegance. 

Her long ponytail rested gently against her back, and she wore a fluffy, milky-white t-shirt, paired with denim shorts and classic white Adidas Stan Smiths. 

She was casual, effortless—but stunning. 

Her long, straight legs made her stand out even more, and the soft curve of her smile gave her a warmth that was impossible to ignore. 

She had barely taken a step forward when the National Youth players reacted. 

"Who is that?" one whispered. 

"She's gorgeous!" another muttered. 

"Yang Yang, you lucky bastard!" someone blurted out, only to be elbowed in the ribs by a teammate. 

Yang Yang's eyes lit up instantly. 

"Su Ye?!" 

His voice carried genuine surprise and excitement as he stepped forward. 

She smiled, her expression soft but teasing. 

"You're surprised?" 

But Yang Yang's focus quickly shifted—because standing behind Su Ye, were his parents, her father Su Wenhong, Wei Zhen and Wei Zheng, his uncle Shen Ming, and his cousin Shen Yuzhu. 

A wave of warmth washed over him. 

They had come all the way to the Netherlands—to be here, for him. 

The realization hit him deep. 

The moment he called out Su Ye's name, the rest of the team pieced it together. 

"Ohhh…" A chorus of understanding swept through the players. 

"Wait, wait, wait," someone whispered, "isn't this the legendary 'sister'?" 

"Didn't the media clarify that she's not actually his sister?" 

"Does it even matter?! Look at her, man!" 

Chen Tao leaned toward Feng Xiaoting, grinning. "Captain, you're a god." 

Feng Xiaoting raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Why me?" 

"Because you called it earlier! Yang Yang's time is running out, and here comes his miracle!" 

The entire team was now buzzing. 

Some were whispering, some were outright staring, but all eyes were on Yang Yang and Su Ye. 

Yang Yang, completely ignoring them, greeted his family warmly, exchanging words with his parents, his uncle, and Wei Zhen. 

But the energy in the room had shifted. 

Tomorrow was the biggest match of his life. 

But tonight? 

Tonight had already given him the biggest surprise he could ask for. 

... 

... 

When Yang Yang and the China U20 team stunned Brazil in the semifinals, Su Wenhong and Su Ye made a bold decision—they would fly to the Netherlands to watch the World Youth Championship final in person. 

For Su Wenhong, it was more than just a trip. It was a way to make up for a past regret—not being there when Yang Yang played in the UEFA Cup final. 

At the time, he had no choice. As a teacher of graduating high school students, May and June were the most critical months. There was no way he could leave. 

But this time? 

He wasn't going to miss it. 

As soon as he made his decision, he reached out to Wei Zhen and Wei Zheng, and to his surprise, they instantly agreed. Soon, they had also contacted Yang Yang's parents, arranging for them to fly from Quanzhou to Beijing before all of them boarded a flight to Amsterdam together. 

It was a long journey. They only arrived in the Netherlands that afternoon, with Uncle Shen Ming picking them up from the airport before heading straight to Utrecht. 

Yang Yang was genuinely moved when he heard the story. 

"You've come all this way—then don't rush back after the final," he said enthusiastically. "Stay a little longer, tour the Netherlands and Europe. I'll cover everything!" 

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. 

During his time in Beijing, the Su family had supported him like one of their own. He had always wanted to repay them—and this was his chance. 

Besides, his parents and Uncle Shen Ming rarely got time off. They deserved a proper vacation. 

Money? That wasn't even a concern for him. 

"That's too much," Su Wenhong protested, shaking his head. "We're just here to support you, how can we let you pay for everything?" 

But this wasn't Beijing. 

Yang Yang's expression turned serious. "If you keep being polite about this, then I'll be too embarrassed to ever eat at your house again." 

His parents joined in, gently persuading Su Wenhong to accept the offer. Wei Zhen and Wei Zheng backed him up, insisting that Yang Yang meant what he said. 

After much convincing, Su Wenhong finally gave in. 

But Wei Zhen had no choice—he would return to China immediately after the tournament due to work commitments. 

Yang Yang also couldn't extend his stay. 

The Ajax training camp for the new season was starting right after the final. 

"You're going back to training immediately after the World Youth Championship?" His mother looked at him with concern. 

The past two years had been a whirlwind of success, but also a never-ending schedule. 

Yang Yang nodded casually. "Yeah, but it's fine. The club gave me an extended break, but I skipped it last year, and since I'm already in the Netherlands, I might as well join early. We have a new midfielder coming in, so it's good to get familiar with the squad." 

His parents sighed, both proud and worried. 

As they talked about the final, the conversation naturally shifted to travel plans. 

Since Wei Zheng and Shen Yuzhu lived in the Netherlands, they would take the lead in organizing the tour. 

Yang Yang had already made another decision—he handed his cousin, Shen Yuzhu, his bank card and put her in charge of all expenses. 

"Everyone here is family," he said firmly. "You all came to support me, so I'm incredibly grateful. This is my way of saying thanks." 

No one argued anymore. 

Instead, they kept praising him, making Yang Yang embarrassed beyond belief. 

Standing beside him, Su Ye suddenly tugged at his training jacket. 

"I want to buy something to drink," she said softly. 

Yang Yang glanced at her and nodded, leading her to the beverage section in the hotel lobby. 

But as they walked, he noticed something odd—Su Ye wasn't really looking for a drink. 

Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a colorful handwoven bracelet. 

"For you," she said, extending it toward him. 

Yang Yang raised an eyebrow. "I already have one." 

His left wrist still bore the older handwoven bracelet she had given him before. 

Su Ye's cheeks turned slightly red, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"That one's old… I didn't do a good job with it. This one is better made. You should change it." 

Yang Yang looked closely at the new one—it was more intricate, the weaving smoother, the colors more balanced. Clearly, she had gotten better at making them. 

He raised his right hand, starting to untie the old bracelet from his left wrist, but it was a little difficult. 

Seeing his struggle, Su Ye stepped closer. 

"I'll do it," she said softly. 

Yang Yang froze for a moment. 

She was very close. 

Her face, with no makeup, was clean, delicate, and naturally beautiful. A faint fragrance lingered around her. 

As she carefully untied the old bracelet, he noticed something—she was wearing a matching bracelet. 

The only difference? 

Hers was on her right wrist. 

Something stirred in his chest, but he didn't overthink it. 

Once she finished tying the new one on him, he picked up the old bracelet instead of throwing it away. 

"It's dirty," Su Ye muttered. "Just get rid of it. If you want another one, I'll make you a new one." 

Yang Yang grinned. 

"It took effort to make. Why throw it away? I'll keep it." 

He said it casually, not thinking much of it. 

But Su Ye's face turned an even deeper shade of red, her eyes lowering slightly. 

She hesitated for a second, then gave a small, gentle nod. 

That tiny gesture, the way she looked in that moment—it was unforgettable.