Super Wingstorm

As the sun set, Yang Yang and Vermaelen left De Toekomst, walking side-by-side toward the bus stop at the intersection.

As usual, Yang Yang juggled a ball as he walked. After four months of training, it had become almost second nature.

Vermaelen watched Yang Yang with intrigue, feeling that his new teammate was a strange and contradictory person.

Logically, anyone who could join Ajax, even just the Second Team, had to be one of the best in their age group. Yet here was Yang Yang, still practicing such tedious, boring fundamentals. It was truly baffling.

"So, how did you end up at Ajax?" Vermaelen asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

After a full day together, especially after the training session they just had, their relationship had clearly grown closer. After a moment’s thought, Yang Yang recounted his time in Almere, telling him everything from start to finish—except for the Super Training.

The Belgian listened, dumbfounded. He never imagined Yang Yang had made the leap from Almere to Ajax in just four months—a hurdle countless professional players couldn’t clear in over a decade.

"When I get the chance, I’ll have to visit that skate park you mentioned and see your masterpiece," Vermaelen chuckled.

He was referring to the graffiti wall Yang Yang had mentioned.

"What about you? How did you end up at Ajax?" Yang Yang asked, still juggling the ball.

"Me?" Vermaelen thought hard for a moment, then shook his head. "I don’t really know. One day, some guy claiming to be an Ajax scout approached me. The very next day, the club I was playing for told me they had already decided to sell me to Ajax. They never asked for my opinion from start to finish."

"But then, Ajax told me I couldn’t join the team yet due to my age, so they loaned me back to my old club. For the past two years, aside from a monthly meeting with an Ajax scout, the only way I could hear about the club was through the newspapers and media."

Yang Yang nodded slightly, still juggling the ball, but he could detect an odd undertone in Vermaelen’s voice.

John Reep had told him that from the moment he signed his name, he was no longer a free agent.

’Who knows, maybe someday Ajax would suddenly sell him. It could be to a big club, or it could be to a small, lower-division team. They might even just terminate his contract and kick him out of De Toekomst.’

’In short, he no longer belonged entirely to himself.’

"Only the strong can control their own destiny," Yang Yang said, quoting the advice John Reep had given him.

"You’re right." Vermaelen nodded with a smile. "That’s why it’s not just you and me. First team or second team, foreign or local, everyone is thinking about leaving this place for a bigger, grander stage."

The Ajax of today was a far cry from its glory days in the nineties. The gap between the Eredivisie and the Four Major European Leagues was constantly widening. From both an economic and a competitive standpoint, it was very difficult for Ajax and the Eredivisie to hold on to players.

Right now, Yang Yang was just a nobody, struggling to secure a spot on the Ajax Second Team. But putting himself in their shoes, if he were someone like Van der Vaart or Ibrahimovic, he would definitely choose to leave too, whether for personal gain or for the sake of his career.

’Playing with and against the best players in the world would be an incredible challenge.’

’Besides, wasn’t the point of competition to constantly seek new challenges and push past your own limits?’

At this thought, a lot of things suddenly clicked for Yang Yang.

He understood why the Ajax management sold players, why players left for other clubs, and why the fans were so sad and angry. He understood it all.

Just then, a roar erupted from behind them. A sports car blew past them on the road, then screeched to a harsh stop a short distance ahead.

"Hey, it really is you! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

As Yang Yang and Vermaelen walked past, the Swedish Striker Ibrahimovic was waving at them through the car window.

"Hey," Yang Yang said, walking over to the car to greet him.

He and Ibrahimovic had been teammates, in a way, and they had made an impression on each other.

"You joined Ajax? When did that happen?" Ibrahimovic asked delightedly.

"Today was my first day."

Ibrahimovic saw Vermaelen, then turned his gaze back to Yang Yang. "You live in Oude Kerk too?"

"Yeah, right across from you," Yang Yang nodded.

Ibrahimovic wasn’t surprised. Oude Kerk was the closest to De Toekomst, and many from the Ajax Youth Academy lived there. It was nothing to be shocked about and certainly couldn’t be considered fate.

"Don’t wait for the bus. I’ll give you a ride." As he spoke, Ibrahimovic had already opened the car door, gesturing to them. "Get in."

Yang Yang and Vermaelen exchanged a look. They felt there was no reason to refuse the first-team’s star striker’s kind offer, so they readily accepted and got in the car.

It had to be said, the Porsche 911 was incredibly cool and flashy. It was a two-door four-seater, but the interior was a bit cramped.

It was the first time either Yang Yang or Vermaelen had seen such a flashy sports car, and they couldn’t help but look on with envy. This pleased the Swedish Striker immensely, who couldn’t resist stepping on the gas a little harder. The roar of the engine deepened.

"Aren’t you speeding?" Yang Yang asked with concern from the passenger seat.

"Of course I am. But isn’t this the only way to have fun in a sports car?" the Swedish Striker replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Yang Yang thought about it and figured he had a point. "Can you drop me at the intersection up ahead? I need to go to the supermarket to buy groceries."

"Groceries?" A strange look flashed in Ibrahimovic’s eyes. "You know how to cook?"

"A little," Yang Yang said modestly.

"Alright then! I’ll take you right to the supermarket. You run in and grab what you need, I’ll wait out here. I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking tonight!" Ibrahimovic replied eagerly.

"Sounds good." Of course, Yang Yang wasn’t going to refuse.

’He had to cook anyway. One more person just meant setting one more place at the table. It was no big deal.’

"If you don’t mind, how about I call Maxwell over too?" the Swedish Striker suggested.

"Of course, no problem," Yang Yang replied readily.

The Swedish Striker let out a cheer and stomped on the accelerator, making the car lurch forward even faster.

Soon after, Yang Yang returned from the supermarket with all the ingredients and seasonings for dinner, his arms full of bags as he walked back to his rented apartment.

He had barely been back for a minute when the doorbell rang. The Brazilian left-back, Maxwell, had arrived.

The twenty-two-year-old Brazilian’s personality was the polar opposite of Ibrahimovic’s. If the Swedish Striker was the type of extrovert who became fast friends with everyone, Maxwell was an introvert through and through. It was hard to imagine that the two were famously inseparable buddies on the first team.

The story went that there used to be three of them, a trio of brothers, with the third being Mido, who had since transferred. But Mido and Ibrahimovic had a massive falling out—Mido had even thrown a pair of scissors at him. Though they later reconciled, they never hung out together again.

Yang Yang asked Vermaelen to entertain the two of them while he slipped into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

He had, after all, learned his skills from his uncle, the master chef Shen Ming. Yang Yang quickly whipped up a pot of fragrant braised noodles and several tasty side dishes—all of them Shen Ming’s signature home-cooked specialties.

The trio of Ibrahimovic, Vermaelen, and Maxwell, none of whom had ever tried Chinese food before, caught the scent and couldn’t hold back. Without any prompting from Yang Yang, the three of them descended on the food like a pack of starving wolves.

In no time, the braised noodles and side dishes on the table had vanished.

"I haven’t eaten a decent meal in two or three days. That was incredible," Ibrahimovic said with a contented smile, letting out a burp.

Yang Yang and Vermaelen exchanged a puzzled look. What was he talking about?

"And it’s all your fault!" Maxwell complained resentfully from the side. "Why on earth did you have to buy a new car? What was wrong with your Mercedes? Why did you have to get a Porsche?"

"Because the Porsche is flashy!"

"But now we’re broke! Who does that? Takes their signing bonus and immediately blows it on a car? It’d be one thing if you only spent your own money, but you threw mine in too! Now I have to starve right along with you..."

By the end of it, Maxwell just looked completely helpless. Having such an unreliable friend was really...

Yang Yang and Vermaelen exchanged a look. It all clicked. No wonder Ibrahimovic had been so forward when he heard Yang Yang was going grocery shopping. The guy didn’t have a meal lined up for the night.

’What a bunch of impulsive young guys.’

Ajax salaries were calculated weekly, but they were actually paid monthly. There was still half a month until the next payday...

Thinking of this and seeing the awkward looks on Ibrahimovic and Maxwell’s faces, an idea sparked in Yang Yang’s mind.

"If you guys think my cooking is passable, you can just come over here to eat for a while," Yang Yang suggested. "My salary is pretty meager, so I can’t promise any feasts, but I can guarantee you won’t go hungry."

’The thought of himself, on four hundred Euro a week, supporting a striker who earned 10 thousand euros a week and a left-back who earned five thousand, was almost comical. But considering Ibrahimovic’s shamelessly chummy personality, he figured that even if he didn’t make the offer, the guy would show up to freeload on a regular basis anyway.’

’Better to make the offer himself and look generous. He could just think of it as making a couple of new friends.’

As expected, Ibrahimovic immediately nodded in agreement. He couldn’t stop praising Yang Yang for being a true friend, promising to repay him handsomely when he got the chance. Even Maxwell thanked him profusely, insisting he’d pay him back as soon as he got his salary next month.

Since his goal was to make friends, Yang Yang didn’t mind at all.

After they’d polished off everything, Maxwell and Vermaelen took the initiative to help Yang Yang clean up. Ibrahimovic, probably feeling a bit sheepish, took on the task of sweeping and mopping the floor.

Once everything was clean, Yang Yang emerged as if by magic, presenting a plate of sliced fruit, which earned him endless praise from the delighted trio.