Football: He suffered a broken leg at the start of the game, but partnered with Haaland!

When Sun Yang opened his eyes, all he could see was a white ceiling.

My nasal cavity was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant.

The regular "beep beep" of the medical monitor filled my ears.

He tried to move his right hand. Thick medical tape was stuck to the back of his hand, and a thin IV needle was inserted into a vein, with clear nutrient solution dripping down the plastic tube.

My head is splitting with pain.

The side effects of the trial card kicked in. In the final five minutes of stoppage time, he was like a supercar with a full tank of gas, now the fuel tank was empty, and even the pistons of the engine were burned dry.

Every muscle was sending protest signals to the brain, and the soreness spread from the soles of the feet all the way to the back of the head.

The system interface flashed a line of gray text deep within my retina.

[Forced hibernation has ended. The body is entering a recovery period. Current glycogen levels are extremely low.]

At that moment, two familiar faces approached the hospital bed.

Diana and Sun Tzu.

Yesterday they watched the live broadcast on TV at their home in London.

When the final whistle blew, Sun Yang collapsed onto the grass like a log, unconscious. The couple immediately booked the next available flight to Germany.

Diana's eyes were red and swollen. This woman, who was always assertive at the negotiating table, was now speaking with a trembling voice.

"Yang, you scared me to death."

Diana reached out and touched Sun Yang's cold forehead.

Sun Yang opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt as dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand.

Diana quickly turned around, picked up a glass of warm water from the bedside table, and carefully placed the plastic straw to his lips.

"Drink in small sips. You slept all night and all morning. The doctor said your stomach and intestines can't be irritated right now."

The water slid down my throat, finally calming the burning sensation somewhat.

This is the day after the competition ended.

Sun Wu stood at the foot of the bed, vigorously rubbing his cheeks with both hands.

"What the hell happened to you? We saw on TV that your right leg was covered in blood, yet you were running even crazier than those who weren't injured. You're risking your life playing football? Is that what you call playing football? You're playing with your life!"

Although Sun Wu was scolding him, he couldn't hide the heartache in his eyes.

Sun Yang coughed twice, regaining his strength to speak.

"Dad, I didn't feel any pain at that time."

At that moment, the ward door was pushed open.

Dortmund's chief team doctor, Schmidt, walked in carrying a thick stack of medical reports.

He first checked the heart rate data on the monitor, then let out a long sigh of relief.

"Thank God, you're finally awake."

Schmidtl pulled up a chair and sat down, his expression very serious.

He turned to Sun Wu and Diana and explained the situation to the parents in English.

"Your son's willpower is the most terrifying I've ever seen. When we brought him into the emergency room yesterday, his blood sugar level was dangerously low. That's a classic symptom of systemic glycogen depletion."

Schmidt held up the data report in his hand and waved it.

"We retrieved the live match tracking data. In the last five minutes of injury time, this kid sprinted 800 meters! His cardiopulmonary function was operating at full capacity during those five minutes. This kind of overexertion is very rare in sports medicine. He will need at least 24 hours of deep recovery."

Sun Yang listened quietly.

This is the inevitable price to pay for the trial card. Gaining five minutes of the world's strongest lunger, Kanté, in exchange for this long period of weakness, is absolutely worth it.

A series of noisy footsteps came from outside the door, mixed with shouts in German.

The double doors to the ward were pushed open from the outside.

Borussia Dortmund head coach Lucien Favre led the way in. Following him were Dortmund's key players, who practically filled half the ward.

The most conspicuous thing was the wheelchair pushed at the front by assistant coach Terčić.

Haaland is sitting in a wheelchair.

This 1.95-meter-tall Nordic behemoth had his right calf immobilized by a thick white plaster cast, and was exaggeratedly holding a bunch of sunflowers in his hand.

When Haaland saw that Sun Yang had his eyes open, he was so excited that he immediately tried to stand up by supporting himself on the armrests of his wheelchair with both hands.

"You're awake! I knew you wouldn't die!"

Captain Reus quickly grabbed Haaland's shoulder from behind and forcefully pressed him back onto the wheelchair cushion.

"Sit still! Your muscle contusion hasn't fully healed yet," Royce warned.

Haaland pursed his lips and shoved the sunflower in his hand onto Sun Yang's bedside table.

"Hey bro, do you remember what happened last time?" Harland asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sun Yang leaned against the soft pillows.

"I remember I kicked that free kick into the top right corner."

Sun Yang thought for a moment.

"Then everything went black, and I don't remember anything."

"Four to three! We won at BayArena!" Haaland slapped the armrest of his wheelchair with his big hand. "You collapsed to the ground the moment the whistle blew. Good heavens, the stadium was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone thought you had a seizure."

Haaland's voice was unusually loud, so loud that it seemed to resonate through the glass of the hospital room.

"Those reporters outside have gone crazy! The press officer's phone is practically exploding with calls from the German media. Everyone's asking which hospital you're in, and how your treatment is going!"

Royce walked to the bedside, took out his phone, and swiped the screen.

"You scared us, but well done." Royce held up his phone to Sun Yang's face.

A high-resolution photo is displayed on the screen.

The photo was taken from a low angle. Sun Yang, his right leg wrapped in a blood-stained bandage, lay sprawled on the grass. Several stretcher bearers were rushing over. In the background, over 20,000 Bayer Leverkusen fans in their red and black at the BayArena stood up and applauded the field.

This is a news photo with a strong visual impact, resembling an oil painting.

Reus clicked on the title.

"Look at the headline on the front page of Bild: 'Three points won with a risk of life! The Great Sage of the East conquers the Bundesliga hell.' The number of comments under this article has already exceeded 100,000."

Royce slid to the next software.

"This is the trending topics on Twitter. You're number one. The Chancellor's speech is number two. You've become a hero on German social media. Everyone's talking about that low shot and your tireless sprint in stoppage time."

Sun Yang stared at the screen for a few seconds. The enthusiastic comments and likes were indeed making his blood boil.

But he quickly looked away.

"I didn't want to be a hero, I just felt that the game shouldn't have ended in a draw. I wanted to win!" Sun Yang's voice was hoarse.

The ward was quiet for a short while.

The teammates looked at each other, their eyes filled with admiration.

In the world of football, there are many who are willing to fight tooth and nail for three points. But very few can put up those kinds of stats and deliver that kind of decisive blow in the last five minutes.

"It's good that we won." Reus put his phone away and patted the edge of the bed. "These three points keep us close in points with Bayern Munich. Now your only task is to recover in this damn hospital bed."