Ronaldo II?

Winning a match made even the air seem sweeter.

That was exactly how Tony Bruns Slots, Ajax's Chief Scout, felt on Sunday morning.

The previous night at Amsterdam Arena, Ajax had put in an excellent performance against visiting Graafschap.

After Hans van der Haar scored for the visitors just three minutes into the match, Ajax's players quickly recovered. In the sixteenth minute, midfielder Yakubu assisted Van der Vaart to level the score.

If the first half had been evenly matched, then the second half was completely dominated by Ajax. Van der Vaart, Sneijder, Galasek, Pienaar, Maxwell, and Bokari scored in succession, ultimately helping Ajax thrash Graafschap 7–1 at home in a thoroughly satisfying victory.

This win greatly eased the pressure on Ajax. At the crucial moment, Van der Vaart and Sneijder, the two local newcomers, had both shown the makings of core players, bringing relief to everyone at the club.

In the four matches Swedish Striker Ibrahimovic had missed, Van der Vaart had been outstanding, scoring six goals and once again overshadowing the Dutch top winger Van der Meide, who had enjoyed a spectacular season.

Van der Meide had been Ajax's best-performing star this season. The right winger had attracted the attention of numerous European giants with his performances in the Champions League, and rumors had been swirling that he would leave in the summer.

That was also a thorn in the side of everyone at the club, including Head Coach Koeman.

Defense was Ajax's biggest problem. Young players such as Heitinga and Chivu were still immature, but their attack was razor-sharp. They were the best attacking team in the Dutch First Division this season, with several players, including Van der Vaart and Ibrahimovic, already in double figures for goals. Their scoring had blossomed everywhere.

Van der Meide on the right was especially vital as the team's attacking outlet. If he really transferred away, it would inevitably cause incalculable damage to Ajax's offense. Yet if a European giant truly made an offer, Ajax would also find it difficult to keep him.

As early as the mid-1990s, after Van Gaal's generation of Champions League winners had fallen apart, Ajax had already lost the ability to retain its stars and had completely become a talent factory for Europe's top clubs.

But precisely because of that, Ajax valued its scouts more than ever.

Unearthing unfinished talents, polishing them, and then selling them at a high price for profit had become the consensus of Ajax's management. It was also Ajax's way of surviving in the fiercely competitive European Football world.

Ajax had crushed Graafschap 7–1, while Eindhoven had lost 1–3 away to Feyenoord. Kezman had scored once, but Van Hooijdonk had produced a Hat-trick, including two penalties, sparking enormous controversy.

Regardless, Ajax had successfully cut the gap in league points to three.

With two rounds remaining in the league, anything was still possible.

With that pleasant thought, Slots walked into the scouting office at Ajax's training base, De Toekomst.

Ajax's scouting network stretched across the world. The Netherlands went without saying, while Northern Europe and Africa were also regions Ajax's scouts valued highly. Every day, scouts stationed all over the world, along with partners connected to Ajax, sent in player information and follow-up reports.

His assistants compiled the reports into files and delivered them to Slots' desk every morning without fail.

As usual, the first thing Slots did after arriving at work was read through the report.

Ajax might have long since lost the glory it had enjoyed in the early 1990s, but a lean camel was still bigger than a horse. It remained a renowned powerhouse in European Football and was famous for its youth academy, naturally attracting young players from all over the world.

The player profiles sent to the club each day were countless. Slots had long since grown accustomed to them. He skimmed through the files, selected several players who caught his interest, and looked into them briefly. Even when he reached the final item, a report on youth football matches around Amsterdam, he paid no attention to the amateur scout's recommendation of a winger supposedly known as Ronaldo II.

Ronaldo II?

These days, there were far too many players saddled with that title. But how many of them actually had the goods?

Did being able to perform a Pendulum Dribble make someone Ronaldo II?

And this one was actually a right back who had played only two matches...

Slots shook his head, closed the report in his hand, and casually set it on the corner of the desk. He could not help but laugh bitterly to himself. The standards of scouts these days are getting lower and lower. Looks like the whole network needs another thorough overhaul.

Technical Director Leo Benhak had become embroiled in a scandal with one of the club's junior secretaries. It had been publicly announced that he would leave in the summer and that the parting would be amicable, but in reality, he had already resigned and was no longer in Amsterdam.

The management was currently looking for a suitable Technical Director. It was said that the chairman already had someone in mind. As the man temporarily handling part of the Technical Director's authority, Slots felt he should take this opportunity to reorganize the scouting network and produce results he could show for.

The camp remained, while its soldiers came and went.

Once the new Technical Director took office, who knew what he would do?

While Slots was worrying in the southern suburbs of Amsterdam, Yang Yang had just finished his morning basic training at the Skate Park in Almere. He was drenched in sweat, looking as though he had been fished out of a bucket.

Since May began, the weather had gradually grown hotter.

Scoring his first goal since arriving in the Netherlands had given Yang Yang a powerful surge of confidence. But what had truly stimulated him and driven him to train even harder last night and today was Amsterdam Arena.

Even thinking about it left him deeply shaken. At the same time, he had felt keenly the enormous gap between himself and Ajax's young players.

After returning to Almere the previous night, he had deliberately watched the match broadcast. Van der Meide's performance on the right had made him feel ashamed of himself, while Van der Vaart's skill and talent had almost made him want to worship him.

Yet neither player was much older than he was.

The gap was simply too great, while his teammates had such an excellent platform for development. If he did not work hard to catch up, he would only fall farther and farther behind.

"Have some water."

The Dutch Middle-aged Man who often came to watch Yang Yang train had arrived again. As usual, he brought two bottles of water and sat in the same spot without saying a word. Only after Yang Yang finished his special training did he hand him one of the bottles.

"Thanks." Yang Yang accepted the water and wiped his sweat with a towel as he spoke.

"You played the entire match yesterday. This morning, you not only doubled your training, but increased the intensity as well. Can you handle it?"

Hearing the trace of concern in his voice, Yang Yang chuckled. "I know my own body. I'm fine."

Old Bing from the Super Training Ground monitored all his training. If Yang Yang could not take it, Old Bing would never have allowed him to keep going.

"You have something on your mind," the Dutch Middle-aged Man said with certainty.

Yang Yang was puzzled. "How do you know?"

"It's written all over your face," the Dutch Middle-aged Man teased.

He knew the man was joking, but Yang Yang still could not resist reaching up to touch his face. The gesture made the usually stern Dutch Middle-aged Man break into a smile.

"I heard you played very well yesterday—two assists and a goal. Your success rate in one-on-one take-ons was also very high. It looks like you've gained a lot from your recent special training, and your fundamentals have improved considerably. So what else is bothering you?"

At first, Yang Yang had been wary of this middle-aged stranger whose name he did not even know. But over time, after repeated encounters, he had realized that the man meant no harm. He only watched him train and chatted with him for a few minutes each time. Little by little, Yang Yang had lowered his guard. So when the man asked now, he hesitated briefly before voicing the frustration in his heart.

"It's perfectly normal. Those people began receiving the most standardized and professional football training from childhood. The basic training you're doing now was something they had already mastered effortlessly by the time they were eight or nine. It's only natural that you have a gap with them."

"I understand that too." Yang Yang nodded, a trace of unwillingness flashing across his face. "But I just can't accept it."

"Then what do you want to do?"

Yang Yang pondered for a moment before asking with concern, "Do you think I still have any chance of catching up with them?"

"I'll say the same thing I said before: it's harder than reaching the heavens. But since you can see the gap and still have this thought, you might as well give it a try."

"You mean..."

"When we first met, you said that you had to try something before you could know whether it would work."

Yang Yang felt much better after hearing that. He looked at the Dutch Middle-aged Man again, curiosity filling his eyes.

"When you were at Ajax, what position did you play? Were you as good as Van der Vaart, Van der Meide, Sneijder, or Litmanen? What did it feel like to play at Amsterdam Arena?"

"When I played, Ajax still held its home matches at Olympic Stadium. They only moved to Amsterdam Arena in '96, so I don't know what it feels like to play there. But..."

A flash of bitterness crossed the Dutch Middle-aged Man's eyes before he quickly continued, "I never appeared for Ajax's First Team. I did play there as an opponent, but it didn't feel particularly different."

"So that's how it was." Yang Yang nodded, but soon came up with another question. "Why do I keep running into you here?"

"Because I like coming here to watch you train." The Dutch Middle-aged Man was quite frank.

"Why?"

"Trus—my girlfriend—and I made a bet."

"What kind of bet?"

"I bet you couldn't stick with this kind of dull, repetitive basic training for a month, while she thought you could."

"And then?" Yang Yang found it amusing that he had somehow become the subject of this old couple's wager.

"We agreed that whoever lost would have to do one thing for the other."

"Then you..."

"I hope you can do it," the Dutch Middle-aged Man said sincerely.

His frankness left Yang Yang speechless. He wanted to ask what the loser had to do, but felt it would be rude. After all, it was a matter between the couple.

"It's about time. I made plans to play golf, so I should get going."

The Dutch Middle-aged Man rose from the bench, but before he could take a step, he looked at Yang Yang beside him.

"At your current rate of improvement, you should reduce your juggling training appropriately in another week at most. Just focus on maintaining that feel for the ball. Don't blindly juggle for the sake of juggling. Being able to juggle alone won't make you good at playing matches."

He had just taken one step when he suddenly seemed to remember something. He turned back. "Oh, right. Also, work more on your left foot."

Only then did he leave without a backward glance.