As the international break drew to a close, David Qin was summoned to the sporting director's office. Klaus Allofs gestured toward the sofa, his expression warm and amiable. "We've all seen your performances lately, David. I felt that rather than waiting for you to speak up, it would be better for us to take the initiative in revising your contract—specifically regarding your compensation."
David's unique playing style had turned him into a significant traffic magnet on the internet. Even setting aside the strategic partnership between the Volkswagen Group and China, David's pure technical ability was worthy of high praise. The basic Bundesliga contract he had initially signed was no longer appropriate. If Wolfsburg clung to it, they would surely be "penny wise and pound foolish."
Allofs was a shrewd man. He was more than willing to do David a favor now to bank some goodwill for the future. Due to David's unique circumstances when he first arrived, his package had been subpar—frankly, it was poor, falling well below the Bundesliga average. As David's stock continued to soar, Allofs had grown increasingly anxious. He had spent the last few days frantically coordinating with the club management and the Volkswagen Group to finalize the new terms.
"The average salary in the Bundesliga is about 1.3 million euros—and that's for mid-table clubs. At a place like Bayern, the numbers are obviously much higher," Allofs explained as he slid a document across the desk.
"We are offering you a base salary of 2 million euros per year. Broken down, that's a weekly wage of roughly 38,000 euros."
"This is just the base. There are also loyalty bonuses, appearance fees, and performance incentives for goals and assists. The detailed contract is right here; you should have someone look it over for you."
David stared at the papers. He knew he couldn't decipher the legal jargon himself and needed a professional. It was only then that he realized he still hadn't signed with a professional agent. Fortunately, the German football system was well-regulated, and the FA could provide representatives, though their expertise rarely matched that of the industry's top power-brokers. Given my current trajectory, David thought, those big-name agents should be knocking on my door any day now.
"38,000 euros a week..." David mused inwardly. Once you break into the elite circle of professional football, making money becomes incredibly simple. He thought back to his life as a "corporate slave" before his reincarnation... best not to think about it; it was nothing but a trail of tears.
Wolfsburg was clearly showing great sincerity. A base salary of 2 million euros would place him among the higher earners in the squad. And considering he had only been playing for about three months, the terms felt exceptionally generous. He glanced at the goal bonuses; every clause seemed quite attainable.
"Just a reminder, these figures are all pre-tax. German taxes are quite substantial," Allofs noted.
Currently, the top five leagues have varying tax burdens: the Bundesliga sits at 45%, Serie A at 46.2%, the Premier League at 50%, and La Liga at 42%. While the Bundesliga's base rate doesn't seem like the highest, players also have to account for church taxes and various other surcharges. In the end, a player usually takes home about half of their gross pay.
The reason many players gravitate toward Spain isn't just the lower base rate; it's the "dual-track" system. Foreign players in La Liga can enjoy a flat tax rate of 25% for their first six years. Meanwhile, the Premier League has its own "clever" loopholes, such as exempting income earned from matches played outside of the UK. For example, if Wayne Rooney played a Champions League away match against Bayern, the portion of his weekly wage and bonuses attributed to that match could potentially go untaxed. In a tournament with massive prize pools, those savings add up quickly.
"Understood. I'll have someone review the contract and get back to you in a few days," David said with a smile. He felt that a massive entity like Volkswagen wouldn't go out of its way to cheat him—he had too many eyes on him back home. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry; he didn't want to end up like certain e-sports players who got trapped by "shadow contracts."
"Of course, that's only right," Allofs replied. "I believe that with your talent, you'll earn far more than this in the future. Wolfsburg is an ambitious club, and I hope we can continue this partnership for a long time."
Allofs was subtly laying his cards on the table. He naturally wanted to tie down a young talent like David, even if it meant paying a premium. If he could keep both David and De Bruyne... but he knew he was dreaming. Even with VW's backing, Wolfsburg couldn't change the fact that they weren't a "mega-club." In football, as in nature, water flows downward while people climb upward. Most young prodigies eventually succumb to the embrace of the traditional giants.
A few minutes later, David walked out of the office. He hadn't given Allofs a definitive answer. Why? Because he wasn't actually a naive seventeen-year-old. Whether looking at it objectively or subjectively, his future didn't involve staying at one club for his entire career. He pushed the thought aside. For now, he just needed to play well and stay true to himself. The future would take care of itself.
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October 18th arrived.
"Round 8 of the Bundesliga!"
"Freiburg versus Wolfsburg!"
"Wolfsburg is playing aggressively away from home, but the 'FIFA Virus' is real. You can clearly see that several players are not at their best after the international break!"
"Wait! David Qin is on the move! An Elastico to bypass Schmid, and now a nutmeg on the lunging Mujdža!"
"Beautiful!"
At the brilliantly lit Europa-Park Stadion, the fans once again witnessed that ethereal grace. While others were hampered by the fatigue of international travel, David hadn't participated in the friendlies. He had spent those two weeks training relentlessly, pushing his template integration to 75%. Furthermore, his new scientific training regimen had yielded visible improvements in his stamina, explosiveness, and top speed. This was the power of science!
In a flash, David burst into the penalty area. The Freiburg center-back scrambled to cover, but David performed a quick step-over with his right foot and immediately pushed the ball forward with his left.
"A blast from a tight angle!"
"It's in!"
"With his teammates struggling for form, the 17-year-old David Qin has stepped up! A solo run, a series of brilliant take-ons, and a clinical finish!"
"That's his third goal of the league season!"
In the stands, Allofs was beaming. The club had just given the kid a raise, and he immediately paid them back with a world-class performance. Worth it! He felt that of all the transfers he had overseen in his career, David Qin would likely provide the highest return on investment.
On the pitch, David celebrated amidst the embrace of his teammates. He was falling in love with this feeling—beating defenders one by one with pure skill before slotting the ball home.
"Kevin, how was that escape?" David asked, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Not bad," De Bruyne nodded. Though, in his mind, the Belgian knew that if it were him, he would have released the ball to an overlapping Olić the moment he beat the first man. But that required a level of vision and passing technique that David probably hadn't mastered yet.
The match resumed. Perhaps sparked by David's goal, the rest of the Wolfsburg squad began to wake up, gradually rediscovering the rhythm they had before the international break. Slowly but surely, the
Wolves took control of the game.
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