"Feeling good today?"
Kaka asked Huang Kaiwen as they ran back.
"Not bad, but my ball control's a little off. I'm not as precise as usual, so I'll try to get into the box and shoot."
Huang Kaiwen put it tactfully.
Basically, he wasn't feeling great on the ball today, but his shooting felt all right.
Trezeguet was an opportunistic striker like that. He differed somewhat from a poacher like Inzaghi, but not by much. Neither was particularly good at dribbling or passing, but Trezeguet could unleash powerful shots in all sorts of ways and was also good in the air. He was a bit like Van Persie with weaker technique but better heading.
"Sounds good. Try to work with me on the right, and I'll look for chances to pass you the ball. Let's get you your first Champions League goal," Kaka said, keeping Huang Kaiwen in mind.
Huang Kaiwen had no objections.
Some netizens had already set up a personal Baidu Tieba for Huang Kaiwen.
Personal computers weren't all that common yet, and getting online was still considered a luxury. In some ways, the internet was a better place than it would be later on.
"Huang Kaiwen doesn't look right today. He's gone this long without getting injured."
"Get out of here. That was a coincidence before. Huang Kaiwen's definitely not made of glass."
"He seems to get along pretty well with Kaka. They're both so handsome, and they're both great players. The world really isn't fair."
"Huang Kaiwen's good at studying, too. His teacher said in an interview that he slept through class every day, and he still got into Beijing Institute of Technology. If he'd put in some effort, he might've gotten into Tsinghua or Peking University."
"The scariest thing is that he speaks several languages. Haven't you noticed? He talks to his teammates so fluently. Even if he quit football and became a translator, he wouldn't starve."
"How much does a translator even make? Huang Kaiwen's contract is worth 2.5 million euros a year, around 26 million yuan. You could translate the whole Yongle Encyclopedia and still not make that much."
"Holy crap, Kaka's fast! Huang Kaiwen's a little slow today."
Milan found another chance to counterattack, with Huang Kaiwen sprinting hard down the right flank.
But Trezeguet wasn't as fast as the version of him who'd matched Carlos Kaiser for speed. After the Experience Card took effect, he'd actually gotten slower.
At this speed, he couldn't keep up with Kaka as they charged forward.
Kaka was faster on the ball than off it. It was ridiculous.
The Brazilian surged through the middle. Shakhtar's three defensive midfielders took turns trying to stop him, but Kaka dribbled past them all at speed. He didn't use any flashy moves, just long strides and quick feet, occasionally knocking the ball past a defender and racing around him. He simply overpowered them with his pace.
Huang Kaiwen glanced over as he ran down the right and couldn't help clicking his tongue.
That was brutal!
Compared to fancy footwork, Kaka's kind of dribbling was even more thrilling.
Huang Kaiwen had watched football for years in his previous life, but he'd never seen another player with Kaka's ability. Other players were lucky to make one run through the middle now and then. Kaka turned the most tightly guarded part of the pitch into a sieve!
Smack—
Kaka played a straight ball to Shevchenko. Back home in Ukraine, Shevchenko was one of the top stars, but he had defenders closing in on both sides. With no other option, he passed the ball back.
Kaka moved to the right side of the arc to receive it, then noticed Huang Kaiwen had already made it into the box.
"Here!"
Kaka fired a quick through ball that split the defense.
He was a little worried that Huang Kaiwen might not be in good enough form to control it.
But Huang Kaiwen's Experience Card today was for Trezeguet, a man who'd perfected the art of shooting.
The ball came in, and Huang Kaiwen stretched out a foot—but, just as expected, he couldn't bring it under control. It glanced off his left foot and popped more than a meter into the air.
Before the defenders could react, Huang Kaiwen had already swung his left leg and struck down hard with his instep, like he was hitting a ping-pong ball.
Shakhtar goalkeeper Jan Lastuvka had no time to react. The ball was already inside the goal, skimming just inside the right post.
After scoring, Huang Kaiwen threw an arm around Kaka, and the two ran toward the away supporters' stand together.
Even the Ukrainian women in the crowd couldn't help cheering them on. In a world where looks mattered, Milan's No. 22 and No. 10 were enough to win anyone over.
Ancelotti swung his hefty frame from side to side, pumping his clenched fists up and down.
He'd known it. He'd known it.
As long as Kevin didn't get injured, he'd be one of Milan's most important weapons.
"Huang Kaiwen!!!!!!!!"
"With his first shot in the Champions League, Huang Kaiwen scores his first goal! Kaka's pass came in fast, and although Huang couldn't control it, he hit a stunning volley. His shooting ability is among the best in world football!"
"Since Huang Kaiwen joined AC Milan, their wings have become even more dangerous."
His teammates came over to celebrate, and Huang Kaiwen waved his hand. "We don't fly back to Milan until tomorrow. Let's find a restaurant and celebrate tonight. Eat and drink as much as you like—it's on me!"
At once, everyone cheered, "Long live Kevin!"
Whenever something came up, Huang Kaiwen treated the team to a meal.
That wasn't especially common in Europe, but everyone liked how generous Huang Kaiwen was.
"Why didn't you mark him?"
Srna stood with his hands on his hips as he questioned his teammate.
Bargan, wearing the No. 2 shirt, looked helpless. "I had to watch Shevchenko and keep an eye on Kaka. How was I supposed to mark that No. 10 as well? Damn it!"
"Enough, enough. Everyone, keep your eyes open," Rat, the left-back, advised.
Today's match really was tough.
AC Milan had too many outstanding attacking players.
They'd thought Kaka was the top star, but their coach had shown them a video of Huang Kaiwen storming onto the pitch before the match, and they'd all been stunned.
Could third-rate players like them, playing in Ukraine, really defend against an attacker of that caliber?
They hadn't seen Huang Kaiwen dribble much today, so they'd been relieved, thinking he was out of form. But that shot just now—there was no way you could call that poor form.
They had no idea that the Huang Kaiwen in the video and the Huang Kaiwen they were facing today had completely different styles. They couldn't even prepare to counter him.
His style changed every match. How the hell were they supposed to plan for that?
After the restart, Shakhtar Donetsk continued to pass the ball around at the back and build their attack. They'd deployed three defensive midfielders because they wanted to focus on counterattacks.
Srna, the right-back, was also an important part of the team. The Croatian fullback was good both going forward and defending, and he was their most important weapon on the wing.
Whenever they settled into an attack, they passed the ball to Srna and let him charge forward.
A little later, Shakhtar's players realized how difficult the match was. Milan were committing more men to attack than defense today, but their offense was so sharp, and their star players had such a good sense of positioning, that Shakhtar couldn't find any good chances to counterattack.
On the right, Srna had the ball stolen by Kaka. In a fit of anger, Srna grabbed him and threw him to the ground, earning a yellow card.
Milan manager Ancelotti kept checking his watch.
His smile grew wider and wider.
Thirty-five minutes had passed, and Huang Kaiwen still hadn't been injured.
Was he, Ancelotti, really some kind of holy warrior? He'd better go to church again before the next match.
Before you continue