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

After recovering, it was lunchtime. Yan Yuan carried his tray and found a seat by the window in the club's cafeteria.

The plate contains chicken breast, quinoa salad, and a small bowl of vegetable soup, prepared by the club's nutritionist for today. Although it's light, it's healthy.

He had just picked up a piece of chicken with his fork when his phone started buzzing; it was a video call from his dad.

He wiped his hands, pressed the answer button, and a smiling Asian face immediately appeared on the screen.

Yan's father was wearing a dark blue shirt. The background was his office, with several documents piled on the desk.

"Hey, big star, eating?"

Yan's father spoke with a teasing tone from the very beginning, maintaining his usual lively businessman demeanor.

"Your food is pretty good! Is it as good as your mom's oil-splashed noodles?"

After swallowing a piece of chicken breast, Yan Yuan said, "How can it compare to my mom's cooking? The 'nutritious meal' is all nutrition; it has no color, aroma, or taste whatsoever."

"Okay, you know how to talk. Your mom will definitely like to hear that," Yan's father continued.

"By the way, I watched your game live yesterday. That cross in the second half was beautiful! If your teammate hadn't scored, I would have wanted to yell at him."

"You watched it? Didn't you say you were busy with meetings lately? How could you have time to watch my match?" Yan Yuan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yan's father waved his hand.

"What's more important than my son's Bundesliga debut? I told those foreigners yesterday, nobody should interfere with my watching the game. The contract can be signed later, but this is my son's debut."

Yan Yuan couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Didn't the client criticize you for being unprofessional?"

"What are you cursing about? I even showed them your match video, and they all praised you." Mr. Yan proudly raised his chin.

"But seriously, wasn't that flick-on dribble you used with your little leg a bit too flashy? You almost messed it up, didn't you?"

Yan Yuan scratched his head. "It was indeed a bit risky. I'll have to be more careful next time."

"What's there to hold back? Young people should have some backbone!" Yan's father suddenly slammed his hand on the table, startling Yan Yuan. "But next time if you mess up, remember to come back immediately. Don't be like some big-name stars who shrug and act innocent after making a mistake."

Yan Yuan curled his lip: "You're really strict as an agent, starting with tactical instructions after just one game?"

"Nonsense, even though your dad has never played football, he's been watching it for decades!" Dad Yan proudly stroked his non-existent beard. "By the way, your mom was too busy to watch the live stream today, remember to send her a highlight reel tonight, she's been talking about it all day."

"Okay, I'll edit a video and post it in our family group later." Yan Yuan nodded, then scooped up another spoonful of soup. "Are you so free today? Aren't you doing your foreign trade business?"

"Of course I'm doing it, why wouldn't I?" Dad Yan pointed to the pile of documents behind him. "I'm just calling you during my lunch break. Hey, your mom asked me to ask you if you want to come home for dinner next week if there are no matches. She said she'd make you some nourishing soup; the food at the club doesn't look very good."

Yan Yuan smiled and shook his head: "I have training next week, so I can't go back. Tell Mom that when I go back during the winter break, I'll definitely try all the signature dishes at her restaurant."

"Alright, I've relayed that exactly." Dad Yan glanced at his watch. "Alright, I won't keep you from eating. Remember not to overdo it with the training. Your mom said you looked thinner in the last video call."

"Okay, please try not to stay up too late. Please give my regards to Mom and tell her not to overwork herself." Yan Yuan waved to the screen.

After the call ended, Yan Yuan put his phone back in his pocket and continued eating the food on his plate.

Today is a rest day, so there aren't many people in the cafeteria. Most of the players are taking advantage of the rest day to go out and relax, with only a few staff members and substitute players sitting scattered in the corner.

He was chewing the last bite of his salad when he suddenly felt someone sit down opposite him.

Looking up, I saw head coach Nagelsmann holding a cup of black coffee and a light meal.

"Yan, you don't mind if I sit here, do you?" Nagelsmann smiled, a few fine lines appearing at the corners of his eyes.

He was wearing the club's training jacket, his hair slightly disheveled, clearly having just come from the tactical analysis room.

"Of course I don't mind, Coach." Yan Yuan quickly put down his fork and sat up straight instinctively.

Although Nagelsmann usually gets along well with the players, Yan Yuan, as the youngest player on the team, always unconsciously tenses up in his presence.

Nagelsmann seemed to notice his awkwardness and waved his hand: "Alright, relax, it's a day off today."

He took a sip of coffee and glanced at Yan Yuan's plate.

"Are you enjoying the club's nutritious meals?"

"It's delicious, much better than the youth training meals I had in England." Yan Yuan smiled, trying to appear natural.

Nagelsmann raised an eyebrow. "Britain... Oh, I remember now, you used to be in Birmingham's youth academy, right?"

During the trial, Nagelsmann looked at Yan Yuan's resume and suddenly remembered that the resume mentioned that Yan Yuan had come from Birmingham's youth academy before joining Paris Saint-Germain.

"Yes, Coach, I was in Birmingham from age 12 to 15."

"No wonder." Nagelsmann nodded thoughtfully. "I was wondering why your game reading ability is so much better than your peers. It seems that the tactical awareness from the British youth training system is indeed solid."

Yan Yuan didn't expect the coach to bring this up suddenly, and for a moment he didn't know how to respond, so he just lowered his head and took a sip of water.

Nagelsmann didn't pursue the topic further, and the two ate their meal in silence for a while.

The cafeteria TV was playing a replay of Liverpool's previous Premier League match, with Salah's goal flashing by.

"Have you watched any of Liverpool's other games?" Nagelsmann suddenly asked.

"I've seen a lot of them, Liverpool's high pressing is very fierce," Yan Yuan nodded.

"Yes, especially their young full-back, that player named Arnold." Nagelsmann put down his knife and fork, his gaze sharpening.

"Yan, since I've run into you, I'll tell you right now: I plan to start you in the second leg of the Champions League qualifiers."

Yan Yuan's fork clattered onto the plate.

He looked up abruptly, unable to believe his ears:

"Me? I'm starting?"

"Yes, in the next Champions League qualifier at Anfield, you'll start on the right wing." Nagelsmann's tone was as calm as if he were discussing tomorrow's training schedule.

"This is not a last-minute decision. I have seen your performance in training and matches over the past few weeks. Your running range, passing vision, and defensive tracking all meet my tactical requirements."

Yan Yuan felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his fingers unconsciously clenched the napkin.

Starting XI in the Champions League qualifiers? And at Anfield no less?

That's Liverpool's home ground, one of the most terrifying and intimidating home grounds in European football!

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Nagelsmann seemed quite pleased with his reaction, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Klopp dared to start 19-year-old Arnold at our home ground, so why can't I start 17-year-old you at Anfield?"

Age is never a problem, ability is. Don't tell me you're scared.

Yan Yuan took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound steady:

"No, don't be afraid! I'm just too excited. Thank you for your trust, Coach. I will definitely not let you down."

"Don't thank me yet," Nagelsmann said, his expression turning serious.

"Anfield is not an ordinary stadium, and the fans there are not ordinary fans either. They will put pressure on you from the first second you step onto the pitch."

Although I'm starting you, I still want to remind you that if you don't perform well in the first half, I might substitute you at halftime. Is that a problem?

"No problem, Coach." Yan Yuan nodded emphatically.

He knew the coach was giving him a heads-up: opportunity and risk go hand in hand, glory and pressure are intertwined, and whether he could play the full match at Anfield depended on his performance.

After they had both finished eating, Nagelsmann stood up and said,

"Come on, let's take a walk."

They walked out of the canteen and strolled slowly along the tree-lined path of the training base, side by side, at a leisurely pace.

"Yan, what's your opinion on Liverpool's tactics?" he suddenly asked.

Yan Yuan pondered for a moment before cautiously replying, "Their full-backs push forward a lot, but they also leave a lot of space behind them. If our wingers can drop back in time to support them, we might be able to launch a counter-attack."

Nagelsmann gave him an approving look: "Not bad, that's similar to what I was thinking. But Robertson and Arnold have freakish stamina; they can sprint up and down many times in 90 minutes. You need to be mentally prepared for that. This game will be very tiring."

"Coach, I'm not afraid of being tired," Yan Yuan blurted out.

Nagelsmann smiled and said, "It's good to be young."

He stopped and turned to face Yan Yuan.

"The next three days are a crucial training period. I will focus on practicing tactics against Liverpool. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Show your usual eagerness to learn."

"Okay, Coach." Yan Yuan nodded solemnly.

Nagelsmann patted Yan Yuan on the chest.

"Alright, stop being so tense. Relax, kid. Go back and get some rest. Things won't be so easy starting tomorrow."

Watching the coach's departing figure, Yan Yuan stood there motionless for a long time.

He was completely stunned.

"Anfield...Champions League...Starting lineup..."

These words kept echoing in his mind, making him feel both excited and on edge.

He's a professional player, and he's only 17 years old. Of course, he understands the value of those words, which is something almost everyone who loves football dreams of.