The next day, the Colney Training Centre was noticeably livelier.
Players who had barely exchanged a word the day before were now trading jokes, shoving each other during drills, and huddling together in low conversations. Whatever had happened the night before had clearly worked—relationships had warmed up fast.
Arsène Wenger and the coaching staff noticed it immediately.
Unfortunately, so did their noses.
Once the players started running and sweating, it became impossible to ignore.
Wenger didn't comment at first. Instead, he motioned Kai over.
"Did you drink last night?" he asked calmly.
Kai nodded without hesitation. "Yes, boss. A bit."
Wenger raised an eyebrow. "How much is 'a bit'?"
"Two bottles per person at most," Kai replied honestly. "Some went a little over."
Wenger thought for a moment, then nodded.
It was still within reason.
First, the season hadn't started yet—this wasn't a competition period. Second, the intention had clearly been team bonding, not reckless indulgence.
From what he could see, the result spoke for itself.
"This is the last time before the season starts," Wenger said firmly.
He didn't want alcohol to become a habit.
Kai smiled. "That's exactly what I told them."
Wenger chuckled, then clapped his hands and raised his voice.
"Alright! Today's physical workload is cut in half. Anyone who still smells like a pub—go shower immediately. I'm getting drunk just standing here."
The squad burst into awkward laughter.
Several players instinctively glanced at Kai, their eyes full of admiration.
That's the captain for you.
Drink with him, and you don't get punished—just a warning.
After training and cleaning up, the entire squad was called into the tactical room.
"We've arranged three pre-season warm-up matches," Wenger began. "One of them is a commercial fixture."
He paused, then looked directly at Kai.
"We're going to China."
Kai nodded.
Since he had taken over as captain, Arsenal's attention toward the Chinese market had increased significantly. The club was clearly hoping to leverage his influence to further open things up.
It was business, plain and simple.
...
Three days later, the players packed their bags.
Their opponent would be the China Team All-Star side—a lineup made up of the best eleven players from the previous season.
Even so, no one considered it a real threat.
One side represented a developing league; the other came from the Premier League. The gap was obvious.
...
On August 1st, Arsenal landed at the capital's international airport.
The reception stunned them.
Thousands of fans flooded the terminal, alongside an overwhelming media presence. Cameras, banners, chants—it felt less like an arrival and more like a title parade.
The players had known Arsenal were popular in China.
They just hadn't expected this.
The airport was practically taken over.
Most fans were there for Kai, of course, but the rest of the squad benefited too. Players like Suárez and Cazorla were greeted like superstars.
Even Chamberlain—usually a rotation player—was shockingly popular.
He was ecstatic.
"This place loves me," he kept saying. "Honestly, I think China might be my second home."
Once they reached the hotel, Kai was immediately pulled away for promotional duties.
Commercial tours came with obligations, and publicity was unavoidable.
Kai, naturally, was the centerpiece.
He spent the entire afternoon moving from one interview to another, answering questions patiently and posing for photos without complaint.
Only after everything was wrapped up did he finally return to his room.
...
The next day, Arsenal held their first training session in China.
They had borrowed a professional stadium in the capital. Instead of training behind closed doors, the club went all in—open sessions, ticket sales, and fan engagement.
Even Wenger himself signed autographs and posed for photos, followed by the players taking turns interacting with the crowd.
By the end of it, the squad was completely drained.
It was somehow more exhausting than actual training.
Kai had lost count of how many autographs he'd signed. His face felt stiff from smiling.
As he finally sat down with a smile, one thought crossed his mind:
The boss probably plans to pay off a year's worth of stadium rent with this trip alone.
Once the commercial activities wrapped up, the much-anticipated exhibition match finally arrived.
The China Team All-Star side featured several familiar faces.
Gao Leiliang, Guan Zhe, Zhuo Yue, Jia Zhenhua—names Kai knew well. Not long ago, they had been teammates in the national setup. Today, they stood on the opposite side of the pitch.
From the opening whistle, Arsenal deliberately kept the tempo controlled. This was a commercial fixture, after all. There was no need to overwhelm the hosts or make things uncomfortable.
Still, Kai's performance quickly stood out.
Compared to his World Cup outings, he looked like a completely different player.
If Kai, during the World Cup, had been a disciplined defensive midfielder with solid passing, then Kai at Arsenal was the embodiment of a true midfield core.
He was everywhere.
Breaking up attacks, initiating forward movement, controlling tempo, dictating rhythm—attack, defense, transitions. Everything flowed through him.
His influence was overwhelming.
Playing week in and week out alongside players like Di María, Suárez, and Cazorla had elevated him to another level entirely.
Up in the Sports commentary box, the commentator couldn't help but point it out.
"This is a very different Kai from the one we saw at the World Cup," he said. "He's not just protecting the back line—he's running the entire game."
His partner agreed. "You can see it clearly. At Arsenal, he's given freedom and responsibility. He's not restricted, and the quality around him allows him to express himself."
At that moment, the long-standing observation made by Chinese commentator Duan Xuan finally made sense—China had never truly been able to unlock Kai's full potential.
If this version of Kai represented one hundred percent of his ability, then during the World Cup, he had shown maybe sixty.
The system had limited him.
The fans, however, didn't care.
They were simply enjoying the spectacle.
Arsenal scored twice in the first half, both goals coming from smooth, entertaining build-up play rather than brute force.
Early in the second half, Arsenal eased off slightly, and Jia Zhenhua seized the moment—connecting beautifully with a volley that sent the crowd into raptures.
For a brief moment, the stadium erupted.
But the celebration didn't last long.
Kai stepped forward and unleashed a clean long-range strike, the ball skidding past the keeper and into the net.
Three goals.
After that, Arsenal clearly downshifted again. There was an unspoken understanding—this was about respect as much as football.
After ninety minutes, the final score read:
Arsenal 3–1 China Team All-Star
The Chinese fans were more than satisfied.
The match had been lively, expressive, and entertaining. Players on both sides leaned into individual flair—dribbles, tricks, daring passes.
Kai himself took on defenders more often than usual, while Cazorla and Di María delighted the crowd with their footwork.
Had it not been for Kai's constant interceptions and positioning, Gao Leiliang's defensive line might have collapsed entirely.
After the final whistle, several China Team players approached Kai to exchange shirts.
Some were young prospects. Others were seasoned professionals.
They all understood one thing clearly—despite playing abroad, Kai's future status back home would be unquestionable.
Some saw him as a benchmark.
Others as an idol.
Kai accepted every request, but ultimately handed his match shirt to Ouyang Fei.
"Kai-ge," Ouyang Fei said excitedly, clutching the jersey. "I'm going to Europe too."
Kai paused. "Which club?"
"Basel."
"The Swiss Super League?" Kai nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good place to develop. If you adapt well, push for a move to one of the top five leagues as soon as you can."
"I will," Ouyang Fei said firmly.
Then he hesitated, lips pressed together. "But… I might have to change positions."
"Change position?" Kai asked, surprised. "To where?"
"Central midfield."
Kai understood immediately.
The role demanded better technique, stronger ball control, and sharper passing—qualities Ouyang Fei already possessed. As for vision and tempo, Kai couldn't judge fully, but if the club was willing to try, there had to be something there.
Still, transitions were dangerous.
"If it doesn't feel right," Kai said seriously, "you need to communicate with the club immediately."
Ouyang Fei smiled wryly. "It has to work. Once the contract is signed, there's no room for failure."
Kai froze for a moment.
He had underestimated the reality.
European clubs didn't nurture failed experiments. They cut losses quickly.
Had his own transition failed at Arsenal, his career might already have ended.
Professional football was ruthless.
Only those who survived deserved to stay.
Nearby, N'Golo Kanté walked past, towel around his neck, listening quietly.
He smiled at Kai and said in his usual broken English, "Football… is very hard, my friend. You no strong here"—he tapped his chest—"you gone fast."
Kai nodded.
He couldn't have said it better himself.
. . .
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