Li Yufei had no idea that two Sky Sports commentators were arguing over whether he could win the Premier League Golden Boot.
Even if he had known, he would only have laughed it off.
The Premier League Golden Boot? To be honest, Li Yufei had never cared about it.
In his eyes, if he was going to win a scoring award, it would be the European Golden Shoe. The Premier League Golden Boot alone wasn't enough to satisfy him.
After all, Premier League Golden Boot winners had scored somewhere between twenty and thirty goals in recent years.
The only player to break thirty goals was Suarez, and that wouldn't happen for several years yet.
As for Egyptian Pharaoh Salah's thirty-two goals in a single season, that was still almost ten years away.
The Premier League Golden Boot had never been a goal for Li Yufei.
It was simply too easy to win.
Only the European Golden Shoe, with more league goals than Messi or Ronaldo, was worth striving for.
Even though he still couldn't match those two in ability, Li Yufei had always set his sights on Messi and Ronaldo.
If he had a cheat and still didn't challenge the strongest players, he might as well go home, wash up, and go to bed.
What was the point of playing football?
The fortieth minute of the match.
Diouf broke down the wing and crossed. Vermaelen misjudged the ball, and Mame headed it into the net. Blackburn Rovers pulled one back.
"GOOOOOOOOAL!!!"
"Number 41, Mame Diouf!!!"
"Arsenal defender Vermaelen misjudged the ball, and Blackburn have pulled one back at home."
"The score is now 1–2, and the match is wide open again."
Conceding a goal in the last few minutes before halftime definitely hadn't been part of Arsenal's plan.
Wenger was very unhappy with Vermaelen's mistake, but there wasn't anyone better to take his place, so he had to make do.
"Still, Rafael's transfer is all but complete. We're just waiting for the official announcement, so we won't be as short on center backs."
Thinking about the rising star he was about to sign lifted Wenger's spirits.
Though Varane was only seventeen this year and wasn't ready to solve Arsenal's defensive problems, being too young and lacking match experience, Wenger had complete faith in his future.
The old manager trusted his eye for talent. Just as he had discovered Henry and Fabregas, he believed Varane, Hazard, and others would become the answer for Arsenal in the next era.
When the halftime whistle sounded, Li Yufei headed back to the locker room with his teammates.
On the way, he felt someone's burning gaze on his back. He turned around and saw Samba.
"What are you staring at? Keep it up and I'll knock your head off!"
In this life, Li Yufei never let anyone walk all over him. Well... except his girlfriend. With everyone else, if he didn't like them, he said so.
Especially someone who'd traded insults with him during the match.
Hearing Li Yufei's contemptuous words, Samba lost his temper. "You little brat! Are you looking to get yourself killed?"
Before Samba could charge at Li Yufei, the referee noticed their quarrel and hurried to intervene.
"Stop. If you don't want to get sent off, both of you calm down."
After the referee's warning, Samba and Li Yufei had no choice but to let it go.
As Samba left, he pointed at Li Yufei, his face twisted with menace, then turned and went into the Home Team Locker Room.
Watching this, Wilshere couldn't help worrying. "This won't end badly, will it? Samba's not someone you want to mess with."
Li Yufei waved a hand, perfectly calm. "Don't worry. You can't show people like him an inch of kindness, or they'll think they own the place!"
Li Yufei wasn't stupid. He knew that someone like Samba would resent him for scoring right in front of him in the first half.
With Samba's brainless, muscle-bound way of playing, he'd definitely try to make Li Yufei suffer in the second half.
So how could a defender make a striker suffer?
There was no doubt about it: use his body and keep fouling him.
With Li Yufei's current build, he had no chance of beating one of the strongest players in the Premier League in a straight physical contest.
In that case, he might as well provoke Samba first and push him into making some rash moves in the second half.
The argument between them as they'd entered the tunnel had only added to it.
The referee had surely taken note and would be watching them more closely in the second half.
Then, if Samba made any particularly unreasonable challenges against Li Yufei, the referee would remember their halftime clash.
That might lead him to assume from the outset that Samba was taking revenge on purpose.
Deliberate retaliation on the pitch would surely earn a red card, since it violated the most basic principles of sportsmanship.
Every move Li Yufei made was meant to steer Samba toward a sending-off.
After all, he hadn't forgotten the system's task for this match: beat Blackburn Rovers by three goals.
After conceding late in the first half, Arsenal's lead had shrunk to just one goal.
Li Yufei had to find a way to give Arsenal a comfortable advantage.
Getting one of the opposing defenders sent off was the simplest solution he could think of.
The fifteen-minute halftime break passed in a flash.
The second half began.
Samba marked Li Yufei even more tightly than he had in the first half.
He also kept shoving him with his arm.
Li Yufei was having a miserable time, but he endured it.
He knew he couldn't rush things now. He had to be patient so he could seize the chance and strike a decisive blow!
Blackburn Rovers were trailing by a goal.
So after the second-half kickoff, Blackburn played aggressively.
Fortunately, Arsenal's technical ability was far superior. After a few passes, Blackburn's players realized they couldn't get near the ball and gave up.
The fifty-first minute of the match.
Walcott drove forward with the ball from midfield, using his speed to blow past Blackburn Rovers' midfield.
After a one-two with Li Yufei, Walcott charged into the right side of the box.
Ryan moved to intercept him, but Walcott stopped sharply and left him a step behind, then swept the ball across to the left side of the box.
The pass curled through the air, and neither Phil Jones nor Givet managed to get a touch.
Arshavin suddenly appeared in the left channel of the box. He beat Blackburn right back Michel Salgado to the ball and knocked it into the net.
Robinson had already made his save, but the shot had been placed too perfectly.
Arsenal led 3–1, restoring their two-goal advantage.
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