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

Catherine took a towel from the sofa next to her, wiped the sweat from her neck, and walked towards Sun Yang with a smile.

She walked directly past the elders in front of her and stood in front of Sun Yang. Her tall stature meant that even when facing Sun Yang, who was 1.85 meters tall, she only needed to look him in the eye slightly.

"What's wrong, Dortmund's star player? You don't recognize your old neighbor now?" Catherine's voice was androgynous, very pleasant, and had a pure London accent.

Sun Wu, watching from the side, was completely bewildered: "Wife, who is this girl? She looks kind of familiar."

Diana glared at her husband and stepped forward to take Catherine's hand.

"You've used up all your memory on Peking Opera lines, haven't you? This is Old Tom's daughter, Catherine! Born on the same day, month, and year as Yangyang, both in the same delivery room at St. Mary's Hospital in London. The little girl whose incubators were right next to each other in the neonatal ward!"

Sun Wu slapped his forehead. "Oh! I remember now, that crazy girl with freckles all over her face!"

Catherine smiled generously, not minding Sun Tzu's description.

Diana turned to her son and explained, "Catherine just graduated from King's College London with a degree in sports rehabilitation. In the past few years, in order to understand the pathology of soft tissue injuries, she even went to Chengdu and Beijing in China to study bone-setting massage and acupuncture techniques for two years. She is now a certified professional sports rehabilitation therapist."

Catherine watched the live broadcast last night. Just seconds after you blocked the tackle with your thigh, she called me. We could hear her crying so hard on the phone. She was so worried, she called me several more times. I just had Henry go to the airport and pick her up.”

Looking at the blonde beauty in front of him, Sun Yang couldn't reconcile her with the image in his memory.

He remembers it very clearly.

When he was seven or eight years old, the two families lived next door. Back then, his father forced Sun Yang to practice Peking Opera basics in the yard every day, doing somersaults and backbends. After practicing, he would take a soccer ball to the backyard and juggle it.

Little Catherine would always climb over the low wall to join in the fun. Back then, she had two messy braids and her nose was covered with little freckles.

The two joined the community's soccer club together. Catherine played forward, and Sun Yang played midfield.

Once, while resting on the grass, little Catherine cupped her face in her hands and said to him in a childish voice, "Brother Yang, when I grow up, I want to marry you and wash your jerseys."

At the time, Sun Yang was obsessed with football and arrogantly replied, "I don't like the freckles on your face. When I grow up, I want to be a football star like David Beckham, a heartthrob surrounded by beautiful women."

Later, old Tom made a fortune in business and his family moved to a wealthy area of ​​London. The two families gradually lost contact.

Who would have thought that a girl can change so much as she grows up? That little freckled girl from back then has blossomed into such a stunning beauty, and she even went on to study traditional Chinese medicine and acupuncture.

"What are you daydreaming about?" Catherine waved her fair finger in front of Sun Yang's eyes.

She grabbed Sun Yang's arm.

"Come on, let's go to the physiotherapy room upstairs. I want to see just how badly you've ruined yourself." Catherine's tone left no room for refusal, and she directly pulled Sun Yang toward the stairs.

"Hey, take it easy, I'm injured." Sun Yang reluctantly followed him upstairs.

At the end of the second-floor corridor was a spacious room. Inside was a brand-new hyperbaric oxygen chamber, next to which was a highly professional, advanced therapeutic massage bed.

"Lie down. Take off your outer pants," Catherine commanded, pointing to the treatment bed.

"Take off your pants?" Sun Yang was taken aback.

"I'm the doctor, you're the patient, stop talking nonsense. Just wear your shorts. You need to do a deep myofascial release on your right leg today, otherwise the lactic acid buildup will make you unsteady on your feet next week, let alone play against PSG." Catherine crossed her arms, looking all businesslike.

Sun Yang couldn't refuse, so he had no choice but to obediently do as he was told.

He was wearing black athletic shorts and lying face down on the physiotherapy bed.

Catherine walked closer and carefully examined the thick medical bandage on Sun Yang's right thigh. Dried, dark bloodstains remained on the outer layer of gauze.

She extended two fingers and gently pressed along the muscle at the edge of the bandage.

"Brother Yang, does it hurt here?" Catherine's voice suddenly became very soft, even a little choked up.

Sun Yang turned his head and found that Catherine's blue eyes were filled with tears.

"It doesn't hurt, it really doesn't hurt. The team doctor said it's just a minor injury, nothing serious, no bones or ligaments." Sun Yang quickly explained, as he was most afraid of girls crying.

Catherine took a deep breath and held back her tears.

"You're still as stubborn as you were when you were a kid. That German guy named Havertz used such dirty tactics; I saw it on TV—that flying tackle went straight for your ACL. If it were an ordinary person, that leg would definitely be ruined."

As she spoke, she carefully cut open the outer bandage with scissors.

Catherine frowned when the wound was exposed.

It was a large, extremely frightening purplish-red bruise with a two-inch-long gash in the middle, which had already been stitched up.

Catherine placed her palm on the muscle surrounding the bruise. The sensation from her palm surprised her.

According to the sports traumatology she learned in school, such a violent impact would definitely cause a severe inflammatory response in the surrounding muscle groups, with muscle fibers tearing and swelling.

But Sun Yang's thigh muscles were far stronger than she had imagined; they didn't have that soft, muscular feel at all.

The [Iron Legs] talent rewarded by the system offset 50% of the impact of the injury at a crucial moment. This is the real reason why Sun Yang's leg didn't break.

Catherine didn't delve into it, simply assuming it was due to the solid foundation Sun Yang had built from practicing martial arts since childhood.

She turned around and took a bottle of special medicinal oil from the tray beside her, poured it into her palm and rubbed it to warm it up.

"Bear with it. Your quadriceps are as taut as a rock right now. You sprinted 800 meters in the last five minutes of that race, which is seriously against the limits of human physiology. Dr. Schmidt said you have systemic glycogen depletion, but I don't think it's that simple. I have to use massage techniques to loosen all the knots in your deep fascia, otherwise it will affect the power of your hamstring muscles."

After saying that, Catherine pressed her hands down hard on the back of Sun Yang's thighs.

A sharp, piercing pain shot straight to my head.

"Hiss—" Sun Yang gasped, gripping the edge of the physiotherapy bed with both hands.

Catherine's technique was extremely professional. She used her thumb and forefinger to massage along the muscle lines from the groin down towards the back of the knee. She not only understood the anatomy of European rehabilitation medicine but also incorporated techniques from Chinese massage for locating acupoints and pain points.

Each press precisely targeted the most sore spot on Sun Yang.

"You really wanted to play in that PSG game, didn't you?" Catherine asked while giving a vigorous massage.

"Of course I want to." Sun Yang buried his face in the hole of the physiotherapy bed, his voice muffled. "Tuchel looks down on people. Neymar and Mbappe are among the most valuable players in football today. Arsenal didn't want me, so I came to the Bundesliga to prove myself in the Champions League."

"Then you have to cooperate with my treatment." Catherine switched her hand to her elbow and pressed down on the outside of Sun Yang's thigh.

"Ah! Be gentle, Catherine! You're murdering me!"

"What are you yelling about? If you can't even handle this little bit of pain, how can you play in the Champions League? I'm going to give you acupuncture later to clear your meridians. This is a special skill that an old Chinese medicine doctor taught me."

At that moment, the door was pushed open.

Diana and Henry walked in. Looking at Sun Yang, who was sprawled on the bed wailing and howling, Diana nodded in satisfaction.

"It seems Catherine's approach is very effective." Diana pulled up a chair and sat down. "Yang, I've made my decision. From today onwards, Catherine will officially join your personal team as your exclusive rehabilitation therapist. Her salary will be paid from your business sponsorship."

Henry, standing nearby, held up a piece of paper to show off.

"To support my nephew's football career, your uncle stayed up several all-nighters in a row to get his junior sports nutritionist certification in Germany. From now on, I'll be in charge of planning all your daily calorie intake! My steak is absolutely authentic."

Sun Yang turned his head and looked at the three people in the room.

My mom is a strong-willed agent who's good at negotiating.

An uncle who is a lively character who cooks, does odd jobs, and is also a nutritionist.

There's also a hot, skilled childhood friend who's a physical therapist.

His personal team was assembled in this hasty yet ingenious way just before the Champions League battle.

Catherine took a cloth bag from the tray and unfolded it. Inside were rows of slender, gleaming silver needles.

"The first phase of myofascial release is complete. Now we will begin Chinese acupuncture therapy." Catherine pulled out two long needles, dipped them in alcohol, and began to disinfect them.

"Wait! Catherine, are you sure you really know how to do this? If you damage my nerves, I'll be paralyzed!" Sun Yang looked at the cold, gleaming needle tip and felt a chill run down his spine.

Catherine ignored him and flicked her finger on the Chengshan acupoint on Sun Yang's calf, accurately locating the point.

"Stop talking nonsense. Didn't Tuchel say you're only fit to shine Mbappe's shoes? Next Tuesday night, I'll make you run faster than that Frenchman."

As soon as he finished speaking, a long needle pierced the acupoint with perfect accuracy.

A strange, tingling sensation spread rapidly along the nerves in his calf. Sun Yang's previously tense and resistant muscles inexplicably relaxed under this stimulation.

As the soreness and distension on the acupoints intensified, a progress bar in a corner of the gray system panel in the void before Sun Yang's eyes suddenly lit up.

[External special physical therapy stimulation detected...]

Damaged glycogen is being restored exponentially...