Wang Shuo assumed she meant she also watched a lot of Premier League games, so he didn’t think much of it.

When it came to football hooligans, the United Kingdom was in a league of its own.

"Wang Shuo."

Seeing Wang Shuo about to turn and go back onto the field, Shen Qinghe suddenly called out to him.

"Hm?"

"Go for it!" Shen Qinghe balled her fists, making an encouraging gesture toward him.

"Okay. If I score later, I’ll run over here to celebrate with you. Make sure you get a handsome picture of me."

To be honest, Wang Shuo was quite grateful to Shen Qinghe.

He often saw Shen Qinghe at Dortmund’s home games, cheering him on in person.

Occasionally, he would also spot her at away games.

Most importantly, under Wang Shuo’s tweets, the first reply every morning was almost always from Shen Qinghe.

Of course, as Wang Shuo’s fanbase grew, more and more fans would "clock in" at the same time, and she was starting to have trouble competing.

But she was always among the first few replies.

So, Wang Shuo was very grateful for this die-hard fan’s staunch support.

What he didn’t know was that Shen Qinghe didn’t just attend Dortmund’s home games—she went to the away games, too, to watch him play.

It was just that most of the time, Wang Shuo didn’t see her.

Even for matches where Wang Shuo wasn’t named to the squad, or was in the squad but didn’t play, Shen Qinghe would still be there in the stands.

"Go, Wang Shuo! I’ll be waiting for you!"

Hearing Wang Shuo’s words, Shen Qinghe excitedly shouted after him.

Her voice was filled with unconcealable joy and anticipation.

...

"You’re not scoring a goal here tonight!"

As Wang Shuo headed back, he was stopped by a young ball boy at the side of the pitch.

"Oh, really?" Wang Shuo found the little guy rather endearing. ’He’s kind of cute.’

"That’s right. We have Toby Alderweireld and Vertonghen, and Oleg—he’s from Barça—and Van der Wiel. You’re not going to score."

The little guy said this in all seriousness.

"Do you know who I am?" Wang Shuo asked, intrigued.

"Of course. You’re Wang Shuo."

Perhaps seeing the little guy blocking Wang Shuo’s path, a few other ball boys came over.

During the match, they had to be spread out around the pitch, but it was still a while before kickoff.

One of the kids even stepped forward to ask for an autograph.

"Donyell, we agreed! He’s the enemy tonight. No asking for autographs before the match," the apparent leader of the group chided the boy who had asked.

Wang Shuo didn’t mind. He looked at the boy asking for his autograph and asked, "Your name’s Donyell?"

As he steadily made a name for himself, he was often approached by ball boys or fans asking for his autograph at away games.

Sometimes, even the player escorts who walked out onto the pitch with him would ask for an autograph and a photo together.

Wang Shuo was already used to it.

"Yeah, I’m Donyell Malen. I’m in the Ajax Youth Training Camp."

"Oh, a little prodigy!" Wang Shuo said with a smile, ruffling Donyell Malen’s hair.

"I’m already eleven. In a few more years, I’ll be able to get on the pitch and play against you."

"Then I’ll be waiting for you!" Wang Shuo agreed with a smile.

"Me too," the leader of the group couldn’t help but chime in. "Remember my name. I’m Matthijs de Ligt. I’m also from the Ajax Youth Training Camp, and I’m ten years old."

Wang Shuo had just signed for Donyell Malen and still had the pen in his hand. He waved it at de Ligt with a clear, unspoken question: ’Want one too?’

Despite acting all tough a moment ago, the kid immediately pulled an autograph book from his pocket and handed it to Wang Shuo.

As Wang Shuo signed it for him, he even said thank you.

The other kids came up one by one to ask for autographs, some introducing themselves as well.

Wang Shuo remembered one named Mitchell Bakker and another named Noussair Mazraoui.

This whole group of ball boys was from the Ajax Youth Training Camp.

"Alright, so we have a deal. Now that you have my autograph, you’ve got to cooperate with us a little later, okay?"

Ball boys have almost no influence on a match, but Wang Shuo said it on purpose to make the kids feel important.

Sure enough, every single one of them was delighted.

"Don’t you worry, we’re definitely winning tonight. Suarez is going to teach you a lesson!"

Luis Suarez, Ajax’s number 16, was their current star player and most dangerous attacker.

After yelling their piece, the little rascals scattered in all directions.

Wang Shuo suddenly had a thought. ’What if, many years from now, one of these kids really does become a World-level superstar?’

’At that point, would he tell the media that when he was a ten-year-old ball boy for Ajax, he had asked Wang Shuo for an autograph?’

’That would bring a real sense of achievement, wouldn’t it?’

...

After both teams lined up and entered the pitch, Wang Shuo soon got a close-up look at the Suarez the ball boys had been talking about.

He wasn’t particularly tall, around 1.8 meters.

Wang Shuo’s first impression of him was that he was very cheerful, always wearing a smile.

His teeth protruded a little, making him look slightly buck-toothed.

Wang Shuo didn’t speak Spanish or Dutch, so it was difficult for him to communicate with Suarez.

But since both were wearing the captain’s armband, they stood face to face before the coin toss, forced to rely on their mutually broken English for simple, everyday chitchat.

It was mostly just exchanging greetings and the like.

Still, they left a pretty good impression on each other. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

It was worth mentioning that Ajax’s head coach was Martin Jol, who had coached Hamburg in the Bundesliga the previous season.

Therefore, he was very familiar with the Bundesliga, as well as with Wang Shuo, Dortmund, and Klopp.