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

Training camp registration day.

Staffordshire, St. George's Park National Football Training Centre.

Yan Yuan arrived half a day later than the originally scheduled time.

The chain reaction caused by signing the contract, taking promotional photos, and making the official announcement, coupled with the time it took to get here from London, caused him to be delayed for a while.

This place is not far from his home in Birmingham.

Yan Yuan carried a simple bag and strode towards the reporting area of ​​the main building of the base.

Most of my teammates have arrived; some are familiar faces, but most are strangers.

The national team's lobby always has a unique sense of liveliness and dispersion, with players from different clubs who have just finished their seasons gathering together, some chatting enthusiastically, and others quietly organizing their equipment.

"Hey! Yan!" A loud and somewhat sturdy voice pierced through the not-so-noisy environment.

Yan Yuan looked in the direction of the voice, and a genuine smile immediately appeared on his face: "Harry!"

He saw that tall figure.

It's Harry Maguire.

The image of playing side-by-side with Hoffenheim last season instantly flooded my mind.

Maguire strode over, opened his strong arms, and gave Yan Yuan a firm hug.

"Welcome back, buddy, a little late, though," Maguire released his grip and patted Yan Yuan's shoulder hard, his smile warm. "Was the journey smooth? That official announcement photo was really cool, Gunner Number 7!"

"Haha, don't even mention it, time was so tight we could barely breathe." Yan Yuan shook his head with a laugh. "But you, you've adapted to the rhythm of returning to the national team so quickly?"

"It's the usual place, I'm always early," Maguire said honestly.

His words gave Yan Yuan a sense of reassurance.

During his half-season playing alongside Maguire at Hoffenheim, Maguire not only became a reliable defensive pillar but also Yan Yuan's most direct communication bridge in the locker room.

The two had barely exchanged a few pleasantries when another sound came from the side.

"The new double Golden Boot winner is here?" A voice with a heavy East Midlands accent rang out; it was Jamie Vardy.

This former non-professional league player, now a regular on the national team, didn't have much of an expression on his face, but his tone carried a hint of curiosity, and he was more of a straightforward look-at-heart.

"Vardy," he introduced himself briefly, extending his hand. "Welcome, kid." His handshake was firm.

"Thank you, Mr. Vardy." Yan Yuan smiled and shook hands with Vardy.

"Marcus Rashford," another young voice rang out, and Rashford, who was slightly taller than Yan Yuan, walked over, his smile appearing more shy. "Welcome, I look forward to training together."

"Of course, it's a pleasure to meet you, Marcus." Yan Yuan shook hands with Rash in a friendly manner.

Harry Kane, as the captain, clearly noticed the arrival of the new member.

He left the staff members who were talking to him and walked straight over.

"Hello, Yan, welcome to the team." Kane's voice was steady, carrying the authority of a captain, and he extended his hand as well.

"You must be tired from the journey. You can relax a little today. From now on, it's time to focus on training. If you need anything, you can contact the staff or me." Kane's handshake was very formal. Although his tone was polite, it didn't show much intimacy. It was more like he was fulfilling his duties as captain, conveying a "business as business" signal.

Yan Yuan responded politely to each question:

"Thank you, Captain. Thank you everyone."

He could sense that, apart from Maguire's genuine enthusiasm, the others—Vardy, Rashford, and Kane—were all adopting a wait-and-see, polite attitude.

Vardy is a straightforward examiner who has made decisions, Rashford is a polite and curious peer, and Kane is simply doing his duty as captain.

This is all part of the natural process of newcomers integrating into the group.

This is also the process of Yan Yuan, as an "outsider," integrating into a new group.

At the same time, more people's eyes were drawn to it.

Curiosity, scrutiny, and even a touch of indifference.

For example, Jesse Lingard of Manchester United, Jordan Henderson of Liverpool, and Tim Cahill of Chelsea, out of basic politeness, nodded or simply said "Hi" as a greeting.

But most people chose to ignore it, continuing their conversation or turning away to do something else.

For these veteran England internationals...

This 18-year-old, of Chinese descent, has just transferred to Arsenal and has only played one season in the Bundesliga.

Despite wearing the same color scheme as them in the national team uniform, he was still a complete "stranger".

Yan Yuan is the only Asian face in this group. He has no Premier League experience, and even with the title of double Golden Boot winner in the Bundesliga and Champions League, his persuasiveness in the national team's locker room obviously needs time to be built.

In another corner of the hall, several players were gathered together, their voices slightly louder than elsewhere.

Sterling speaks very fast and uses a lot of body language.

He was talking to Stones, Delph, and Dale, his eyes occasionally glancing in the direction Yan Yuan had just entered.

Stones listened with his arms crossed, his expression largely unchanged; Delph nodded in agreement from time to time; Dale seemed somewhat distracted, but his eyes occasionally glanced over.

"See that? Our new Golden Boot has arrived. Quite the airs, huh? He's already half a day late on his first day." Sterling's voice was slightly mocking; he used the term "Golden Boot," but there was no respect in his tone.

"Do you think his two gold boots are really that shiny?"

Delph chuckled and replied, "How so? Their data speaks for itself." His words sounded like both a response and a question.

"Data?" Sterling scoffed.

“Think about it, John,” he turned to Stones, “in the Bundesliga, apart from Bayern and Dortmund, the others, like Leipzig and Eintracht Frankfurt… can they be compared to the intensity of our Premier League? If you ask me, in those leagues, winning the Golden Boot isn’t as difficult as you might think, especially when you’re facing… umm?”

Sterling deliberately left it unfinished, simply shrugging his shoulders, the meaning of which was self-evident.

He believes that the overall level of the Bundesliga is not as good as the Premier League, and that Yan Yuan's data is somewhat inflated.

Stones pursed his lips. He didn't respond immediately. Deep down, he didn't quite approve of Sterling's flippancy, but since Sterling was his teammate, he couldn't say anything.

Sterling performed quite well for Manchester City in the 17-18 season, and he's still "floating" around.

Regardless of the circumstances, Manchester City were eliminated by Hoffenheim in the Champions League quarterfinals last season. Stones only played in the first leg and was injured before the second leg, watching the match from the hospital.

He was deeply impressed by the match.

Yan Yuan's speed and goal-scoring instinct during counter-attacks left a deep impression on Stones; this was definitely not a subpar performance.

But he and Sterling are club teammates and national team teammates, and now they're in the same small circle. He didn't want to cause a conflict over this, so he chose to remain silent.

"Oh, and the Champions League Golden Boot," Sterling continued, "look at how he scored all those goals? In the group stage against... what was it again? Oh right, Maribor, the Slovenian team? Spartak Moscow? Russian teams... plus Seville, whose performance this season has been just so-so."

Then they play Porto from the Portuguese league in the round of 16. To put it bluntly, are these teams even considered tough opponents in the Champions League?

"The only team that's somewhat tough is Porto. If this were in the Premier League, they'd only be a mid-to-lower tier team, right?"

Sterling spread his hands, giving him a knowing look.

"With this kind of schedule, the teams you face are all like this. Scoring so many goals isn't entirely due to skill; luck is also a part of skill, right? If it were a draw like the one in our group..."

Arsenal actually spent 1.58 ​​million on him, tsk tsk, I can't even imagine it..." Sterling clicked his tongue.

Dell listened to the conversation.

He wasn't particularly interested in these analyses, but when he heard the word "Arsenal" appearing in Sterling's joking remarks, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

As Tottenham's midfield maestro and Arsenal's arch-rival, he naturally harbored hostility and distrust towards his new teammate who was about to wear the Gunners' number 7 jersey.

"Hey guys, what's the point of saying all that?" Dale finally spoke, his tone carrying his characteristic nonchalant yet slightly contemptuous air.

He gestured with his chin toward Yan Yuan, but there was no real smile on his face.

"Since he's already here, the national team has its own reasons for selecting players."

If you ask me, it's simply... well, the FA wants to project a more diverse image internationally, right?

Dale paused, his gaze sweeping over the other three, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Do you really think Southgate would so quickly put his hopes on a newcomer who just came from the Bundesliga? And a striker at that?

I don't need to elaborate on how fierce the competition is among our strikers, right? Just let him experience the atmosphere; don't take him too seriously.

His words seemed to be reassuring his companions and also to reduce their sense of "threat" from Yan Yuan, revealing a disregard for Yan Yuan's actual abilities and speculation about Southgate's personnel management.

Sterling chuckled twice, clearly agreeing with Dale's assessment:

"Dyer's right, he's just a mascot now, let him be a spectator for a few games. When will he get to play? We'll see next season! But he's facing Arsenal this season, hehe..."

He didn't continue his mockery of Arsenal, but everyone understood.

the other side.

Yan Yuan chatted with Maguire, Vardy, and others for a few more minutes about the training base.

Vardy gave him a brief introduction to the dormitory location and restaurant hours.

Although Vardy didn't talk much, Yan Yuan found his phrase "the true test will be on the training ground" quite sincere.

Maguire then inquired about his accommodation arrangements after his transfer to London.

After they finished talking, Yan Yuan's gaze fell on a small, somewhat conspicuous group in another corner of the hall.

Sterling's laughter was still very clear.

Yan Yuan is not a fool.

He certainly understood that integrating into a new group, especially a dressing room like England's, filled with superstars and factions, couldn't be achieved solely through introductions from acquaintances.

He has to take the initiative to face everyone and at least show basic respect.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his backpack strap, and walked towards where Sterling and the others were.

His steps were steady, and his face wore a trained, polite, and humble smile.

"Hey guys," Yan Yuan stopped a few steps away, making sure his presence wasn't too conspicuous.

"I am Yan Yuan. I just arrived. I was delayed on the way. Sorry, everyone..." His gaze swept over Sterling, Stones, Delph in turn, and finally landed on Dale.

All four of them stopped talking and turned to look at him.

Sterling reacted the fastest; his young face instantly lit up with a warm smile, and he was the first to extend his hand.

"Raheem Sterling, welcome, welcome! We were just talking about you, Champions League Golden Boot winner, amazing!" His tone sounded incredibly sincere.

But Yan Yuan clearly heard Sterling's evaluation of him just now.

Yan Yuan shook hands with him: "Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rahim."

He could feel that Sterling's hand only touched him briefly before letting go, and the pressure was very light.

Stones extended his hand, his expression remaining unchanged and calm: "John Stones, welcome."

Delph extended his hand, wearing his usual simple smile, his voice a little hoarse: "Fabian Delph, welcome to the team."

Finally, there's Dell.

He stood still, waiting for Yan Yuan to look at him, before slowly extending his hand.

His face showed no particular expression, just a faint one.

"Eric Dale, welcome." His handshake was polite, but nothing more, and equally brief.

Even when Yan Yuan tried to say "It's a pleasure to meet you," Dale seemed to nod almost imperceptibly and then naturally looked away.

Arsenal's newcomer's attempt to greet the Tottenham veteran was clearly a foolish move.

On the surface, this is the standard procedure for teammates meeting for the first time, and at least to the other people in the lobby who did not pay attention to the details, there is no problem.

But an invisible string in Yan Yuan's heart twitched slightly. He possessed a keenness far beyond his years and high emotional intelligence honed in a highly competitive environment.

Therefore, Yan Yuan also has a particularly strong ability to perceive interpersonal relationships; he can perceive how each person feels about him.

Sterling's smile was too enthusiastic and superficial, and his deliberate reminder of the "Golden Boot" seemed too forced.

Stones' calm demeanor seemed to conceal something he wanted to say but couldn't.

Delph seems to be the least biased, just going with the flow.

And Dell...

The seemingly unintentional, extremely slight shift of gaze, the sense of distance revealed during the handshake, and the indifferent attitude during the introduction all allowed Yan Yuan to detect a hint of coldness.

On a deeper level, Yan Yuan felt a sense of "being rejected".

The simple greetings, seemingly amicable on the surface, were like an invisible breeze carrying a chill.

But in reality, there was a faint, almost undetectable, yet undeniably present tension in the greeting just now.

Yan Yuan knew perfectly well where these attitudes came from.

Because of his face, his heritage, his skin color, the Premier League he had never set foot on before, the dazzling effect of his sudden and brilliant achievements, and becoming the most expensive transfer this season.

Yan Yuan snapped out of his thoughts.

He showed no sign of anything amiss, maintaining his composed and dignified demeanor.

"Okay, I won't bother you any longer. I'll go put my luggage away first. See you at the training field later."

He nodded slightly to the four of them, his tone calm and natural, then turned around, picked up his bag, and followed the staff's directions toward the dormitory assigned to him.

Those probing, indifferent, and even subtly hostile gazes still seemed to be watching him.

Yan Yuan did not turn around.

Vardi's words are indeed true: the real test is on the training field.

Earning a place in the England dressing room is never an easy task.