After Paris Saint-Germain was removed from the list, I led England to victory!

(I woke up around 7 a.m. and saw everyone's messages. I was really touched. Thank you all for your company and support. Today's update: 1.4 words)

(Hopefully Musiala recovers soon; Bayern Munich and the German national team need you.)

The moment Yan Yuan fell to the ground, the entire Bernabéu fell silent.

"Yan!!!" Heart-wrenching shouts rang out almost simultaneously from all over the green field.

Captain Vogt was closest and practically tumbled and crawled to Yan Yuan's side.

Maguire's massive body rushed over with a gust of wind, clumsily but eagerly kneeling on Yan Yuan's other side, his huge hands trembling as he tried to touch him, yet afraid of hurting him.

Gnabry followed closely behind, his young face drained of color, replaced by panic.

Once De Jong understood the situation, he immediately stopped being saddened by the loss and charged forward like an arrow.

Amiri, Nordtveit, Uth... everyone from Hoffenheim gathered around.

On the sidelines, head coach Nagelsmann almost used both hands and feet, ignoring the linesman's attempts to stop him, stumbling and rushing onto the field. His face was expressionless, only showing a frozen panic.

The substitutes and coaching staff also rushed onto the field.

In the first row of the stands, Yan's parents stood up almost the instant Yan Yuan collapsed.

Mother Yan let out a heart-wrenching scream:

"son!"

She instinctively tried to jump over the railing, but her father, Yan, held her back tightly. However, her hands were trembling violently, and her face was deathly pale.

Yan's father led his wife to the passageway next to them.

After identifying themselves, the two men, with the assistance of Bernabéu security personnel, rushed down from the stands as quickly as possible and ran towards the small, enclosed focal point in the center of the field.

In the VIP section, Professor Arsène Wenger, who had been closely watching the situation on the field, suddenly stood up. He didn't even have time to hold his cane properly before his assistant quickly helped him up.

"Quick! Come with me now!"

His brows furrowed, his sharp eyes fixed on the center of the chaos below. Without hesitation, he immediately gestured for his assistant to follow him down.

On the other side, Real Madrid coach Zinedine Zidane was talking to his assistant coach when he suddenly noticed the unusual reaction of the Hoffenheim players and the commotion on the field.

Zidane's expression changed, and he immediately shouted to the players around him who were about to celebrate:

"Stop! Everyone stop!"

He quickly commanded in Spanish:

"Cristiano, Toni, you two come with me! Sergio, Casemiro, you take the rest of the team back to the locker room!"

His tone was stern and left no room for argument.

Zidane's order makes perfect sense. Ramos and Casemiro are directly responsible for Yan Yuan's injury, and he won't let them be at Hoffenheim.

Ramos and Casemiro exchanged a glance, seemingly wanting to say something, but seeing Zidane's unquestionable gaze and Ronaldo's slight head shake, they ultimately nodded silently and turned to leave.

Cristiano Ronaldo and Toni Kroos followed closely behind Zidane, walking quickly toward the scene of the incident with solemn expressions.

The stretcher arrived quickly under the direction of the team doctor.

Hoffenheim's chief team doctor, Marcus, and his assistant quickly knelt down to Yan Yuan's left, their movements professional and hurried.

Real Madrid's team doctor, Sanchez, arrived almost simultaneously with his assistant. They squeezed to the right and, without exchanging words, began to divide the work of examining the patients.

Marcus skillfully pried open Yan Yuan's eyelids, quickly shone a flashlight into his pupils, and growled at the same time:

"Pupillary reflex is normal, concussion ruled out."

He quickly secured Yan Yuan's neck.

Sanchez quickly examined Yan Yuan's bruises on his right leg, pressing firmly on several key areas, and carefully probing the wound on his forehead, speaking rapidly:

"Right quadriceps contusion with subcutaneous hemorrhage. Laceration of approximately two centimeters in the forehead; the wound has been cleaned and bleeding has stopped. Preliminary assessment indicates no structural damage or signs of an open fracture!"

He quickly covered the wound with new sterile gauze.

"How are their vital signs?" Marcus asked his assistant.

The assistant had already clipped the fingertip pulse oximeter onto Yan Yuan's finger and was looking at the reading:

"Heart rate 110, blood oxygen 97%, blood pressure normal at 130/100, but severely dehydrated, body temperature 37.1°C!"

"Saline solution, open the vein! Quickly!" Marcus commanded.

The stretcher was already in place, and the two teams of doctors and staff carefully moved Yan Yuan's body onto it.

Just as the stretcher was secured, Yan's parents finally broke through the crowd and rushed to the side of the stretcher.

Mother Yan collapsed to the left of the stretcher, her trembling hand tightly gripping her son's hand that had no needles inserted.

Seeing her son unconscious, her heart ached, and tears streamed down her face. She bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying out, her shoulders heaving violently.

Standing behind his wife, Yan's father pressed one hand firmly on her shoulder, as if to provide support, while his other hand gripped Yan Yuan's wrist tightly, his knuckles turning white.

His gaze was fixed on his son's pale, tightly closed eyes and the glaring gauze on his forehead. His lips were pressed into a straight line, and the muscles in his cheeks bulged slightly from the effort.

On the right side of the stretcher, Nagelsmann knelt down on the grass without hesitation, his hands gripping the turf tightly.

Tears welled up in Na Shuai's eyes without warning, rolling down his young but tired face and dripping onto Yan Yuan's hand.

"I'm sorry... Yan... I'm sorry..." His voice was broken and choked with unspeakable pain.

"I should have insisted... I should have substituted you directly... even if you hate me... I should have substituted you... it's all my fault... I'm not a qualified coach, I don't deserve to be your coach... I'm sorry... kid... I'm sorry..." He repeated incoherently, his forehead pressed against Yan Yuan's arm, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Zidane and Wenger, with the assistance of security personnel, also approached the stretcher.

Wenger stood close to Yan's father, his eyes behind his glasses glistening with tears. He leaned forward slightly, took off his glasses, wiped away his tears, and looked at Yan Yuan on the stretcher with concern and worry.

"Yan... Yan..." Nagelsmann called out to his disciple, his voice still choked with sobs.

Nash raised his head, tears and sweat mingling and streaming down his young but unusually haggard face.

He looked at Yan's parents behind him, his eyes filled with desperate self-blame.

"I'm sorry... Mr. Yan, Mrs. Yan... I... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, Yan..." Nagelsmann's tears flowed uncontrollably, and he almost sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's my fault...it's all my fault. I'm the head coach...I should...I should have been more decisive. I should have forced him to come off! He refused twice...but I...I shouldn't have been soft-hearted! I shouldn't have listened to him! I...I didn't do what a head coach should do...I'm not qualified..." He regretfully pounded the ground with his free left hand, his shoulders shaking violently.

Na Shuai could not forgive himself. When Yan Yuan twice indicated that he could still hold on, he chose to trust his disciple's will, but ignored the physical limits and potential dangers behind that will.

He felt that he had personally pushed his most beloved disciple into the abyss.

Yan's father looked at the coach in front of him, who was much younger than himself but shouldered enormous pressure and responsibility, and wept bitterly, listening to his heartfelt confession.

As a father, he was naturally heartbroken, but as a man, and as someone who had also experienced ups and downs in his career, he was deeply saddened.

He understands the rapidly changing choices on the field and the respect for the players' will.

During the match, Yan's father witnessed Nagelsmann signaling a substitution.

It was the almost stubborn insistence in his son's eyes, and his two almost disrespectful rejections of the coaching staff.

His son's stubbornness was like a god's.

Yan Yuan embodies the spirit of his own youth when he ventured alone to the other side of the ocean.

When Yan's father was young, he was incredibly stubborn.

He disobeyed his family and came to England to do business on his own. He even told Yan Yuan's grandparents that he would not return to China if the business failed.

This is what he said to Yan Yuan's grandparents back then.

"I'm determined to make a name for myself in the British Isles!"

Just like Yan Yuan on the field today, even if he was injured, as long as he hadn't lost and could still run, he insisted on staying on the field.

His son looks so much like him, so much like him…

The father and son are almost identical in personality.

This is an inherited stubbornness and competitiveness.

Everything that is happening now is not entirely Nagelsmann's responsibility.

Yan's father took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing his turbulent emotions.

He walked around the stretcher and stood before Nagelsmann, who was still kneeling and weeping.

To everyone's surprise, Yan's father bent down and stretched out his arms.

Instead of blaming him, they gave the young head coach a big hug.

He patted Nagelsmann hard on the back, his voice low and hoarse, full of understanding:

"Alright... Coach Julian... you've done enough..."

I saw it all from the sidelines; it was my son… He rejected you twice…

I know my son, I know him too well... He's always been this stubborn since he was little, and he's always been very competitive...

He told me before the match that he wanted to win Hoffenheim's first Champions League title and make me the youngest Champions League coach.

I'm his father, and you're his coach. I think... we both understand this competitive spirit.

Yan's hug conveys a father's understanding of another "father" (coach), and also the profound affection between adult men that needs no words.

Hearing what Yan's father said, Nagelsmann felt even more heartbroken and sobbed on Yan's father's shoulder.

Zidane watched this scene, took a step forward, and placed a firm hand on Nagelsmann's shoulder, which was shaking from crying. His palm was warm and steady.

"Julian," Zidane's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a calmness that came from having weathered countless storms.

"Calm down first. The most important thing right now is the child."

Zidane turned to Yan's parents, bowed slightly, and spoke sincerely:

"Mr. Yan, Mrs. Yan, please allow me, on behalf of Real Madrid Club, to express my deepest apologies to you."

My players and I bear undeniable responsibility for what happened on the field today. I am deeply sorry for the harm my players caused Yan.

Wenger also leaned forward at the opportune moment and said to Aunt Yan:

"Madam, please be strong."

Your son… he is the most resilient and talented young man I have seen in recent decades, without exception.

His willpower is extraordinary; he will surely overcome this challenge.

The most important thing now is to get him the best medical care; he will definitely get better.

Wenger's gaze then shifted to Nagelsmann, who was still resting on his father's shoulder. His tone held a subtle hint of sternness, a reminder from Wenger to the younger Nagelsmann:

"Julian, protecting the players is always the coach's primary responsibility. Sometimes, as head coaches, we need to be more clear-headed and decisive than the players. Even when faced with their persistence, we must make a clean break."

"Alright, Julian, Yan will get better, believe me, he will."

Nagelsmann turned around, his eyes already red, and said with shame.

"Yes... Mr. Wenger... your criticism is correct."

Zidane didn't pause and clearly stated the plan:

"I have just contacted the best sports medicine center in Madrid, the Olympia Clinic."

They have top-notch sports injury treatment equipment and a team of experts. They are Real Madrid's primary partner hospital. The ambulance is ready and waiting at the entrance.

His gaze swept over Yan Yuan, who was still unconscious on the stretcher, and his tone was resolute:

"Later, I will personally escort Yan to the hospital to ensure he receives the most timely and top-notch treatment."

I will not leave the hospital until I am certain he is out of danger and fully conscious.

This decisive promise, like a stone thrown into still water, instantly broke the solemnity and sorrow of the scene.

Yan's father glanced at Zidane, unsure of what to say.

After all, it was this bald guy who got their players to tackle his own son.

He simply said "Thank you," and then continued to comfort his wife.

Mother Yan raised her tearful eyes to look at Zidane, her lips moving, but in the end she only nodded silently.

Nagelsmann hastily wiped away the tears on his face, his eyes regaining their resolve:

"I'll go too. I'm his coach, and I won't leave Yan when he needs me the most."

"Zidane, take me with you too." Professor Wenger also wanted to go.

"Of course," Zidane replied simply, then decisively waved his hand, signaling for the stretcher to be moved.

The two teams of medical staff immediately worked together to carefully lift the stretcher.

Nagelsmann, Vogt, Maguire, De Jong, Gnabry, and others automatically formed a protective human wall, escorting the stretcher towards the players' tunnel.

Yan's father followed closely behind, supporting his wife who was almost completely exhausted.

Zidane, Wenger, Ronaldo and Kroos also followed suit.

Outside the passageway, an ambulance with the Real Madrid logo was already waiting with its blue roof light flashing.

The car door opened, and professional emergency personnel quickly stepped forward to assist, smoothly pushing the stretcher into the vehicle.

Hoffenheim's team doctor Marcus and Real Madrid's team doctor Sanchez also squeezed in to provide monitoring during the journey.

Mr. Yan helped his wife into the car and sat down next to Yan Yuan's head. Mrs. Yan once again held her son's hand tightly, not letting go for a moment.

Zidane nodded to Wenger, Ronaldo, and Kroos: "Cristiano, Toni, you two go back first. I'll contact you immediately if anything happens."

He looked at Nagelsmann and Wenger.

"Julian, Mr. Wenger, you'll ride in the same car with me."

Nagelsmann and Wenger both boarded the bus one after the other.

Zidane then solemnly told Yan's parents, "Please rest assured, sir and madam, we will follow the ambulance and escort Yan throughout the entire journey."

The sirens of ambulances blared, shattering the tranquility of the Madrid night.

The ambulance and the Real Madrid van following closely behind, escorted by police motorcycles, drove away from the Bernabéu Stadium, merged into the city's traffic, and sped towards the Olympia Clinic.