"Hey, did you catch it? Yesterday's match."
"Which match? The World Cup qualifiers?"
"No, the Bundesliga! That Chinese lad scored again. Absolutely insane goal."
"Ah, the national team actually scored?"
"Not the national team…"
"Jin Hayes, right? I watched it too! Unbelievable. I was screaming at the screen."
"Exactly!! The kid's a phenomenon."
In the staff canteen of Zhongshan Third Hospital in Tianhe District, Chen Jianping, head of the Information Department, was hunched over his tray, eating quickly, keen to finish and get back to work.
He slowed down when he caught the conversation.
A group of medical interns. The girls who didn't follow football looked puzzled. The boys who did were practically worshipping.
Hearing strangers praise his son warmed Old Jin's heart like nothing else.
He wanted to march over and announce it: That's my boy!
But modesty prevailed. He held back.
Then a colleague from across the table paused, chopsticks mid-air. "Wait a minute, Section Chief Jin, isn't your son also called Jin Hayes? Studying abroad somewhere?"
"Germany, yes."
"What a coincidence. Same name as that footballer."
"Ah…" Chen Jianping couldn't contain himself any longer. A grin spread across his face. "Not the same name. He is my son."
"WHAT?!"
Amidst the stunned stares, Chen Jianping picked up his tray and strode away, head high, chest out.
Finally. A chance to show off.
>>>
While fans in the east dissected his every move, the football world in Europe was once again buzzing.
Jin Hayes's goal—the ridiculous, multi-player dribble, the Marseille turn inside the six-yard box, the backheel finish from the goal line—was being replayed constantly on sports channels across the continent.
"In yesterday's Bundesliga Matchday 27 clash, Chinese teenager Jin Hayes scored a breathtaking individual goal to bring Borussia Dortmund level. In the second half, he was again the catalyst, his movement creating space for Nuri Şahin to find Alexander Frei for the winner. Dortmund defeated Bayer Leverkusen 2-1 and now sit fifth."
"Let's look more closely at this goal. Jin uses his remarkable technique to successively evade Barnetta, Vidal, Haggui, and Friedrich before rounding the goalkeeper and scoring. Words cannot do this justice. It's the finest goal of the Bundesliga round, without question."
"Rumour has it FIFA are considering establishing a Puskás Award for the goal of the year. If it comes into being, Jin Hayes's strike against Wolfsburg—where he dribbled past six players—and this backheel finish would both be strong contenders. At the very least, in the Bundesliga's own goal of the season voting, Jin Hayes will sweep the top three spots. Let's watch the replay again and marvel at his footwork one more time."
>>>
At his home in North London, Arsène Wenger was working on his laptop when the television caught his attention.
Anne Brosterhous glanced at the screen and smiled. "Oh, isn't that the young man who visited? Your favourite student?"
Wenger nodded absently, not looking up.
"Will you bring him back to Arsenal next season?"
That made him pause. He removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"It's… complicated. He doesn't have a work permit."
"Can't you go to the FA? Appeal? There's a clause, isn't there?"
Anne had picked up enough about English football regulations over the years.
"There is. But it's not guaranteed. It depends on the panel. And the club's willingness."
Wenger wasn't sure where the board stood.
Jin Hayes had no international caps. None. He didn't meet the automatic work permit criteria by a long shot. That made him ineligible to play in England.
Compared to other European leagues, the FA's restrictions on non-EU players were the most stringent in Europe. That damned work permit alone had blocked countless talented youngsters.
Then there was the limit: no more than three non-EU players on the pitch at any time. That complicated squad selection further.
And physically? Jin Hayes still wasn't ready for the Premier League. He could run riot in the Bundesliga, true. But the Premier League was a different beast. He'd be a target. He'd get broken in half.
Next season, Wenger planned to let him continue his development abroad. The boy was young enough. Even if he spent three, four, five years away, he'd still return as a U21 player.
"That's a shame," Anne said. "Our daughter keeps asking when she can play with her big brother again."
Wenger blinked. "Really? I didn't know that."
"Hmph. You never notice what happens at home. You're always working, even when you're physically here." Anne crossed her arms, unimpressed.
Wenger sighed, offering a placating smile. "I'm sorry. It's been stressful lately. I'll make it up to you after the season ends."
Anne didn't reply. Just sighed.
They weren't even married yet, and she could already see her future stretching out before her: a partner always absent, always preoccupied.
She wondered, sometimes, if they could truly make it work.
>>>
"Hey! Our hero! Good morning!"
"JIN! The saviour arrives!"
"Autograph! Autograph, please!"
The moment Jin Hayes walked into the training ground, he was swarmed.
Not by fans. By his teammates.
Since that 2-1 comeback against Leverkusen, his standing in the squad had reached absurd heights.
Without Jin Hayes: three consecutive defeats.
With Jin Hayes: eight matches unbeaten across all competitions.
Three straight wins in the DFB-Pokal—Jena, Hoffenheim, all brushed aside. A cup final against Bayern Munich awaited.
Four consecutive league wins. Hamburg. Karlsruhe. Bochum. Leverkusen.
He had, almost single-handedly, dragged Dortmund from thirteenth to fourth. A twelve-point swing.
Now they were two points clear of Hamburg in fifth. Three points behind Schalke in third.
The Champions League. Previously a distant dream, something they'd only glimpse through a telescope, was now within touching distance.
The Champions League. The stage every professional footballer craved. For those who'd never represent their country, it became their World Cup. Exposure. Glory. The chance to test yourself against Europe's elite.
And the money. The bonuses.
When Jin Hayes produced magic on the pitch, his teammates didn't resent him. They worshipped him.
Why wouldn't they? He was dragging them towards riches they'd never imagined.
As Hummels had put it: "Who else can we rely on? The coach's tactics? We defend. Frei scores. And you, my friend—you're the difference."
Lately, the attention had become almost overwhelming.
"Do you think we can actually do it?" Nuri Şahin's brow was furrowed. "The Champions League, I mean."
He had reason to worry. The Bundesliga's top tier remained formidable, and only five games remained.
Dortmund's run-in was a nightmare. A devilish schedule.
Next up: Werder Bremen. Second place.
Then Schalke 04. Third place.
And finally, on the last day of the season: Bayern Munich. The champions-elect. The ultimate boss.
From early April to mid-May, Dortmund's season would be decided. Champions League glory or mid-table obscurity. Every match was a final.
Şahin's concerns were valid.
"The Champions League?" Jin Hayes felt a shiver of anticipation. If a ticket to that competition was on offer, he would grasp it with both hands.
Even if Bundesliga giants stood in his path.
"Yes, brother. YES!"
Jin Hayes clenched his fist, standing at the entrance to the canteen, radiating confidence.
He didn't know, yet, that the winning streak was about to meet a brutal end.
And the Champions League dream, so tantalisingly close, was about to become uncertain once more.
>>>
Bundesliga Matchday 28. Borussia Dortmund 1-3 Hannover 96.
The fans were shell-shocked.
What just happened?
They'd braced themselves for the devilish schedule. They'd expected the real tests to come against the top sides.
So why had the team stumbled before the tough run had even begun?