Inside the Volkswagen Arena, the Wolfsburg faithful were growing restless. Losing to Bayern was one thing, but Eintracht Frankfurt was hardly a powerhouse—how were they being held like this?
On the touchline, Dieter Hecking's face was like thunder. He had been dissatisfied with Sebastian Jung's performance since that early training scrimmage, but he had patiently granted him another chance. The result was clear: Jung had failed to meet expectations.
"Make sure the defensive mid and wingers are tracking back properly. Don't let them breach the thirty-meter line so easily," Hecking barked at Arnold.
However, tightening the screws on the defensive end meant a drop in attacking numbers and intensity. No matter how brilliant De Bruyne's playmaking was, a cook cannot make a meal without ingredients. Coupled with Makoto Hasebe's relentless marking, the Belgian felt as though he were wading through a swamp.
Time ebbed away quietly. When the double whistle blew, the first half came to a close.
"It seems Wolfsburg still hasn't found their rhythm. Perhaps Perišić's absence is taking a greater toll than expected," noted CCTV commentator Liu Jiayuan. "They grew accustomed last season to using raw pace on the left to stretch the play, allowing De Bruyne more room to threaten the center. Let's hope they adjust during the interval and find their form in the second half."
While Liu Jiayuan said this for the broadcast, his heart was actually rooting for Wolfsburg to stay in crisis—the more desperate the situation, the higher the probability of David Qin being subbed on.
To his disappointment, the fifteen-minute break passed, the second half began, and David remained firmly rooted to the bench. However, Wolfsburg's tactics had shifted; they began consciously bypassing De Bruyne, launching frequent crosses from the wings to find Ivica Olić.
The Croatian veteran was thirty-six, at the twilight of a career that had earned him the nickname "The Legend Who Never Tires." But no man can outrun time. Harassed by the Frankfurt defenders, his performance was unremarkable, failing to produce a single moment of note.
The 56th minute arrived.
Ricardo Rodríguez took a throw-in that Luiz Gustavo flicked on. De Bruyne dropped deep unexpectedly, finding a rare pocket of safety. He killed the ball at his feet, his eyes instantly locking onto the Frankfurt half.
The defensive line is high; Olić is making the run. Two vital pieces of data were transmitted from his retinas to his brain. He leaned his body slightly and swung his right leg with immense power.
Snap! The ball carved a lethal arc through the air, heading straight for the target zone.
"Frankfurt's backline is pushed up! Carlos Zambrano can't get back in time!"
"Is Olić through on goal?!"
"No! Makoto Hasebe! He anticipated De Bruyne's vision and had his eye on Olić the whole time!"
"Brilliant! He stops a clear one-on-one at the cost of a tactical foul and a yellow card!"
The camera panned to the touchline, where Frankfurt manager Thomas Schaaf clapped softly, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration. Although Hasebe stood only 180cm and lacked elite physical stats for the Bundesliga, his experience, technique, vision, and ability to read the game were superlative. Within the Frankfurt system, he operated with effortless grace.
"He is the smartest defender in the Bundesliga," Schaaf marveled.
On the other side, Hecking remained silent. He removed his glasses and rubbed his temples vigorously. A hard-won opportunity had been snuffed out by the opponent's intelligence. When he looked up and saw Hasebe, his eyes instinctively flickered toward the bench, meeting a pair of young, expectant eyes.
He hesitated no longer. "Nicklas, Junior, and David—warm up. You're going on."
He was preparing a triple substitution, a mid-to-late game gamble to break the deadlock and seize the three points. There was no other choice; continuing as they were was just a slow grind to a stalemate. Olić's stamina had dipped severely, and he could no longer apply pressure.
As for subbing on Bendtner... one could only say that "The Lord's" actual ability was a distant second to his confidence.
David Qin's eyebrows shot up. Though he had been mentally prepared, now that the moment was here... well, he was a little excited. He took some comfort in the fact that the Volkswagen Arena only held 30,000 fans. Had his debut been at the Allianz Arena, the sheer pressure might have made him falter.
Beside him, Nicklas Bendtner tilted his head back proudly, clapping David on the shoulder. "Don't be nervous. Just watch my positioning and do your job. I'll handle the rest."
Bendtner then stared at the Frankfurt goal, his eyes seemingly ablaze. He was ready to prove himself to the world—again. David found it impossible not to roll his eyes. He had done a quick search on Bendtner a few days ago and found a gem of a story. In 2011, an Arsenal sports psychologist had revealed a report in the Swedish magazine Offside measuring confidence and determination. On the "Self-Perception" scale, Bendtner hadn't just outscored his teammates—on a test where 9 was the maximum score, he somehow managed to score a 10.
The "Lord" certainly lived up to the name.
Bendtner knelt on the turf, kissed the grass, then stood up and bounced on the spot.
Good grief, he's not just confident; he has a total performer's personality, David thought to himself. The Great Dane is standing at attention.
The crowd's attention was drawn to Bendtner, and a sliver of hope rose among the Wolfsburg fans. Bendtner's radiating confidence was infectious. The Frankfurt fans, meanwhile, felt a twinge of anxiety—Bendtner was making such a grand spectacle of his entrance that it felt like a world-class superstar was taking the pitch.
Naturally, David Qin, standing right next to him, was entirely ignored. No one cared about the Asian youth. Even Makoto Hasebe on the field gave him a cursory glance before looking away.
The match resumed quickly, both sides eager to use the fresh legs to break the tie. But on the CCTV broadcast, Liu Jiayuan's voice rose to a fever pitch:
"Here comes the Bundesliga debut for our young David Qin!"
"Three years! It has been three years since a Chinese player last stepped onto a Bundesliga pitch!"
"The last one was Hao Junmin. On April 23, 2011, he started for Schalke 04 at right-back. I remember it clearly: Neuer was behind him, Farfán was ahead of him, and the front line featured Raúl and Edu. Sadly, Hao Junmin left the Bundesliga with a stat sheet of 14 appearances, 0 goals, and 0 assists."
"Let's hope David Qin can find a goal—or at least an assist—today! Haha, maybe that's too much pressure. A solid performance is enough."
Liu Jiayuan sounded a bit choked up. Somewhere along the line, people had stopped expecting things from Chinese players; they had stopped having hope for Chinese football. There were many reasons for it, but the ones who suffered most were the fans—always arriving with hearts full of hope, only to return home in disappointment.