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

As night deepened, London's lights began to illuminate the city one by one.

When Yan Yuan opened the door, he looked dejected.

"You're back?" Lin Jianwei's voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the bubbling of a stew pot and the aroma of food. "I made your favorite tomato stewed beef brisket today, it'll be ready soon."

Usually at this time, Yan Yuan would have already hugged her from behind, rested his chin on her shoulder to sneak peeks at the food in the pot, or deliberately caused trouble so that she couldn't concentrate on cooking.

But today, all that answered her was the rustling sound of shoes being changed in the entryway, followed by the creaking sound of the living room sofa being weighed down.

Yan Yuan lay on the sofa and covered his head with a blanket.

Lin Jianwei turned off the small stove, wiped his hands, and walked out of the kitchen.

Only one floor lamp was on in the living room. In the dim light, she saw Yan Yuan curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a thick down comforter, his head buried in it, with only a few strands of hair showing.

Lin Jianwei walked over quietly and sat down on the edge of the sofa.

She was completely still, but she could sense that the person below was not asleep.

"Yan Yuan?" she called softly, her fingers gently resting on the quilt.

The blanket moved slightly, but there was no response.

Lin Jianwei didn't ask any more questions, but patiently patted the curled-up figure gently, one pat at a time.

After a long while, she carefully lifted a corner of the blanket, revealing Yan Yuan's buried face.

His eyes were closed, but his eyelashes were a little wet.

"Come, lie on my lap," she whispered, gently lifting his head and placing her legs under his neck. "That will be more comfortable."

Yan Yuan did not resist and obediently rested his head on her soft thighs.

Lin Jianwei pulled a thin blanket over him and gently combed his hair with her fingers.

Her fingertips were warm and delicate, carrying a faint scent of hand cream, as she gently stroked his temples.

"The beef brisket seems to have been stewed for a bit too long," Lin Jianwei said, not directly asking Yan Yuan what was wrong, but instead referring to the food she had prepared that day.

"How about we try making something different tomorrow? You said you wanted braised pork last time..."

Yan Yuan suddenly turned around, buried his face in her lower abdomen, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Lin Jianwei paused slightly, then stroked his back even more gently.

"The coach is leaving..." His voice was muffled inside her sweater, very low.

Lin Jianwei's fingers didn't stop, still rhythmically stroking his hair. "Mr. Wenger?"

"Well... he retired after the season ended." He hugged her tighter. "He said he was too old to stay up all night..."

Lin Jianwei was silent for a while, then gently massaged his scalp with her fingertips. "This must be making you very sad."

"It's more than just sadness," Yan Yuan's voice trembled slightly, "He's the person I admire most. Every time I hit a roadblock, he was the one who believed in me and guided me. Now he says he's about to leave..."

The stew pot in the kitchen was still bubbling gently, and the aroma of the soup filled the entire living room.

Lin Jianwei lowered her head and gently pressed her lips to the top of his head.

"When I was an undergraduate, one of my favorite professors retired, and I was sad for a long time," she said softly. "That professor changed my understanding of finance and helped me find my own style. When she left, I felt like I had lost my compass."

Yan Yuan relaxed his embrace slightly and looked up at Lin Jianwei.

Under the light, her face looked soft and warm.

"And then?" Yan Yuan asked.

"Later I realized that what she taught me had become ingrained in me." Lin Jian smiled, her fingertips lightly tracing Yan Yuan's brow bone, and continued speaking.

"Just like the growth that Mr. Wenger brought to you, Yan Yuan. The tactical awareness, leadership, and understanding of football that he taught you... these have become a part of you. In other words, Mr. Wenger will always be by your side."

Yan Yuan stared at her, the gloom in his eyes dissipating slightly.

"Moreover," Lin Jianwei continued, her voice gentle.

"Isn't the best way to say goodbye to him the one who leaves with pride? Let him see that he has nurtured a player who can stand on his own, a player who can inherit his football philosophy."

Yan Yuan suddenly sat up, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"You're right, Vivi," his voice regained its strength, "this season, we still have four championships to fight for."

Lin Jianwei smiled as she looked at him, her fingers still gently combing the hair at the back of his head.

"Premier League, Champions League, FA Cup, League Cup," Yan Yuan said, enunciating each word clearly, his eyes growing brighter.

"We need to win all four, let the professor leave with four championships, and make his final season a legend."

"This is the Yan Yuan I know." Lin Jianwei cupped his face, her thumb gently wiping the corners of his slightly reddened eyes.

Yan Yuan grasped Lin Jianwei's wrist and pressed her hand against his cheek.

"Weiwei," he said softly, revealing this mixture of dependence and gratitude in her eyes for the first time, "thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" she smiled gently.

"Thank you... for not asking me what was wrong, for not saying a lot of comforting words." Yan Yuan pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "You just quietly stayed with me and let me figure things out on my own."

"Because I understand you," she said softly, her eyes gentle. "What you need is space to think, not just comfort. I'm just providing you with that space."

Yan Yuan looked at her and suddenly realized why he was attracted to Lin Jianwei, who was older than him.

Weiwei knew when to speak and when to remain silent; when to treat Yan Yuan as a boy who needed protection and when to regard him as a man who could stand on his own.

Yan Yuan changed his position and lay on her lap, this time looking up at her.

From this angle, he could see the slightly drooping corners of her eyes, which made her smile especially gentle.

"Sister," Yan Yuan deliberately dragged out his voice, with a hint of coquetry, "I'm hungry."

Lin Jianwei chuckled and gently pinched his high, straight nose.

"Finally you realize you're hungry? Little brother, the beef brisket is practically falling apart from being stewed."

But she didn't get up immediately. Instead, she stroked his hair for a while before gently poking him.

"Get up, eat first. I'll give you some more energy after you finish eating."

Yan Yuan sat up and watched her walk towards the kitchen.

The lights accentuated Lin Jianwei's graceful figure, and the aroma of the food grew even stronger.

Yan Yuan suddenly jumped up, walked into the kitchen, hugged her from behind, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"What's wrong? It itches..." She smiled and turned her head to the side. "Weren't you hungry?"

"I need to charge my phone first," Yan Yuan said in a low voice, hugging her tightly.

……

Two days later, in the EFL Cup final, Arsenal will face Newcastle United.

Wembley Stadium was bustling with activity, and flags were flying everywhere.

The atmosphere of the EFL Cup final was so powerful that it created a deafening roar as tens of thousands of hearts beat in unison.

Arsenal vs. Newcastle United.

This should have been a suspenseful and exciting match between two strong teams. Newcastle has been in good form this season, with a tough defense and sharp counter-attacks under Benitez's guidance.

However, when the players lined up and walked onto the field...

Attentive observers will notice that the young man wearing the number 7 jersey in the Arsenal squad has a completely different expression than usual.

Today, Yan Yuan's face no longer held its usual relaxed smile.

His eyes were calm as water, his lips were pressed into a straight line, and his jawline was taut.

That wasn't tension, but a kind of focus, a resolute determination to eliminate all distractions and leave only the pure goal.

Yan Yuan stood in the group, like a peerless blade sheathed, its sharpness concealed, yet radiating a chilling, restrained killing intent.

"Hey, Yan, you look... a little scary today." Saka leaned over and whispered, with a hint of joke but also a sense of doubt.

Yan Yuan turned his head, glanced at Saka, and gently patted his shoulder.

"Play well this game, Bukayo."

Yan Yuan's focus made Saka subconsciously suppress his smile and become serious as well.

The opening whistle blew.

From the very first second of today, Yan Yuan has demonstrated a maturity and dominance beyond his years.

He is no longer just a "supercar" that speeds down the flanks and tears apart defenses with his speed.

He was more like a commander in charge of the overall situation, a fighter who led from the front.

When Newcastle tried to use Rondon's speed on the wing to attack Ashraf, Yan Yuan was always able to drop back into position immediately to either interfere closely or help cover and intercept.

During a Newcastle counter-attack, Rondon got half a body length ahead of Hakimi and was about to cross the ball when Yan Yuan appeared out of nowhere like a ghost, making a precise sliding tackle to cleanly clear the ball out of bounds!

The actions were decisive and efficient.

Wenger, watching from the sidelines, looked puzzled.

When attacking, Yan Yuan no longer focuses on individual breakthroughs, but pays more attention to connecting with his teammates, using precise passes to orchestrate the attack.

He dropped back to support Rodri and Ramsey much more often, becoming a stable hub for advancing the defense from midfield and backfield.

In the 28th minute, Yan Yuan received a pass from Rodri on the right wing. Facing close pressure from the Newcastle defenders, he did not force a breakthrough but calmly controlled the ball and turned around, attracting the attention of two defenders.

Just as the opponent was about to close in, he looked up and delivered a surgical long diagonal pass with the outside of his right foot.

The ball traced a beautiful arc, precisely finding Saka, who had made a high-speed run and successfully beaten the offside trap!

Saka chested the ball down, and calmly slotted it into the far corner past the onrushing goalkeeper!

1-0!

After scoring, Saka excitedly rushed to the corner flag to celebrate, while Yan Yuan, who provided the assist, simply stood still and clenched his fist forcefully. Today's celebration was not as unrestrained as before.

He quickly ran over and high-fived Saka, his gaze sweeping once more over the familiar figure on the coaching bench.

Wenger watched him from afar, clapping and nodding.

In the second half, Newcastle intensified their attack, attempting to equalize.

Arsenal's defense was under immense pressure at one point.

In the 55th minute, Newcastle had a golden opportunity when Ritchie delivered a precise through ball from midfield, and Perez used his speed to overtake Cancelo and break into the penalty area to create a one-on-one situation.

The entire Wembley Stadium held its breath for a moment.

At this critical moment.

Yan Yuan pushed his speed to the limit and, just as Saint Maximin was about to shoot, executed a precise sliding tackle from the side and behind.

The ball was cleared out of bounds! Perez was also brought down to the ground!

The ball was intercepted cleanly, and the referee indicated there was no foul.

A perfect, invaluable defensive play.

Yan Yuan got up from the ground, vigorously brushed the grass clippings off his arms, and shouted loudly to the rear defense line.

"Focus! Keep a close eye on them! Don't give Newcastle any chances!"

This was the first time Yan Yuan had given a loud command on the field since joining Arsenal, acting like a captain.

"Yan Yuan! He's saved the team once again!" the commentator exclaimed. "It wasn't just his contribution on the offensive end! He gave it his all on the defensive end too! He played like a true captain today!"

In the 68th minute, Arsenal intercepted the ball in their own half and launched a quick counter-attack. Odegaard received the ball in the middle of the field, drew the defense, and then passed it to Yan Yuan, who was making a high-speed run down the right flank.

Yan Yuan gets the ball.

Facing the Newcastle left-back's defense, he didn't use any fancy moves. He simply flicked the ball forward with a quick, explosive burst of speed, shaking off the defender in one step!

Break into the restricted area!

Facing the center-back who was covering, he calmly observed the goalkeeper's position and unleashed a well-timed shot with the instep of his right foot.

The ball skimmed along the grass and hurtled straight into the far corner of the goal!

2-0! Yan Yuan scores!

This time, he still didn't celebrate excessively.

He simply ran to the corner flag area, pounded his chest hard, and then pointed to the most vibrant red area in the stands.

That's where Arsenal's die-hard fans gather, and it's also the direction from Wenger's coaching bench.

In the 82nd minute, Yan Yuan received a pass back from Saka on the edge of the penalty area, made a slight adjustment, and unleashed a powerful shot.

The ball flew like a cannonball, heading straight for the top corner of the goal.

3-0! Yan Yuan scores his second goal!

Just before the final whistle, Yan Yuan broke through on the right wing and delivered a precise cross, which Aubameyang headed into the net.

4-0!

The final whistle blew, and Arsenal defeated Newcastle United 4-0 to lift the 2018-2019 EFL Cup trophy!

Wembley Stadium was instantly engulfed in a sea of ​​red.

The cheers, songs, and applause were deafening.

The players hugged, jumped, and roared wildly.

Everyone was celebrating happily.

Surrounded by his teammates, Yan Yuan finally showed the same smile as always.

He accepted the championship medal from the staff, its weighty texture fitting firmly in his palm.

He walked to the podium with his teammates, receiving the adoration of the entire stadium.

As captain Ramsey raised the League Cup trophy high, a shower of confetti and ribbons rained down, and golden light danced on the trophy.

The Arsenal players surrounded the trophy, cheering wildly.

However, amidst this golden sea of ​​revelry, Yan Yuan's gaze pierced through the bustling crowd and landed precisely on that familiar figure in front of the coaching bench on the sidelines.

Arsène Wenger.

The professor was smiling, applauding and celebrating with his assistants.

His gray hair shimmered silver in the sunlight, and his face wore a smile of satisfaction and pride.

Wenger looked at Yan Yuan from afar, his eyes filled with love and relief.

"He really can take on Arsenal."

Yan Yuan did not rush over to hug the professor immediately.

He simply stood quietly among his teammates, across the noise and light, watching from afar the old man who had guided him, shaped him, and was about to bid farewell to this green field.

The master and apprentice looked at each other from afar; this was their unspoken understanding.

Yan Yuan raised his hand and gently grasped the championship medal on his chest, which was still warm from his body.

"This is the first one." Yan Yuan looked in Professor Wenger's direction and thought to himself.

"Three more are needed."