Watching Huang Kaiwen leave him in the dust and charge into the penalty area, Zamboni thought viciously, If you can run that fast, why don't you break a leg? Aren't you made of glass?
Already inside the penalty area, Huang Kaiwen nearly laughed at the sight before him.
There were only two defenders left in Reggina's penalty area, while Shevchenko, Inzaghi, and Kaka, waiting near the top of the arc, were all raring to go.
Huang Kaiwen raised his lower leg slightly. That passing motion startled Reggina defender Cannarsa, who quickly moved in tight on Shevchenko.
But when Huang Kaiwen lowered his leg, all he did was nudge the ball forward.
Then he took off again, dribbling diagonally into the six-yard box.
After a couple of stepovers, he was about to shoot, but Inzaghi was shouting over there like a cat with its tail stepped on. Huang Kaiwen quickly used the inside of his foot to send the ball to the left.
Inzaghi, who had followed up, barely had to try. With a gentle touch, he sent the ball into the net.
"Mate, you're incredible!"
After scoring, Inzaghi ran over and put an arm around Huang Kaiwen's neck as they walked together toward the stands.
Huang Kaiwen thought to himself, If you hadn't been shouting the whole time, I would've taken the shot myself.
He'd already promised to pass to Inzaghi. He couldn't just mess with him.
Inzaghi had quite a bit of standing at Milan.
He was someone Huang Kaiwen, "the commander of the stands," needed to keep on good terms with.
Ancelotti smiled on the touchline.
Whether the ball went in or not didn't matter. Huang Kaiwen had shown even more speed than before. Did that mean his body had recovered?
It seemed the "sacred relic" he'd bought from a Vietnamese man for 82.5 yuan had really worked.
Kaka ran over too, looking excited. "Kevin, you're ridiculously fast!"
"I didn't want to scare you guys before."
Huang Kaiwen shrugged.
Kaka burst out laughing, but Shevchenko looked a little unconvinced.
Sheva thought Huang Kaiwen should've taken the shot himself. It was obvious he'd just gifted Inzaghi a goal.
The group chatted as they walked back. Ancelotti called out from the touchline, "Kevin's looking good today. Get him the ball whenever you can."
Ancelotti also wanted to see whether Huang Kaiwen could last until the final whistle.
After play restarted, Reggina started to panic.
Their passing became quicker, and their challenges grew rougher.
Three goals down meant they had little chance of earning any points, so there was no reason to hold back. If they could rattle Milan's stars and find a chance to equalize, they might still get something out of the match.
Their play made Ancelotti's eyelid twitch. Forgetting all about his dignity, he went to the touchline and grabbed the fourth official, complaining at machine-gun speed. "They're savages! They're trying to kill my players! If they keep playing like this, my players are bound to get hurt. Damn them, the bastards! They're a bunch of thugs. Every one of them belongs on the gallows!"
The fourth official was speechless.
Still, he could understand Ancelotti.
Anyone with a genius like Huang Kaiwen on their team would be protective of him. And since the kid was always getting injured, seeing the opposition make rough challenges would naturally make Ancelotti anxious.
But what was all that about the gallows?
If Reggina's challenges deserved the gallows, would every Premier League player have to be torn apart by horses?
Ancelotti was a famous manager now, so the fourth official carefully tried to soothe him. "Mr. Ancelotti, I'll remind the referee to keep an eye on things, but you have to understand that Reggina changing their approach when they're trailing by a lot is perfectly normal."
The fourth official didn't say the rest, but the meaning was obvious.
You're two goals ahead, they're starting to commit fouls, and then you insist on putting a glass-bodied player on the pitch. How can you blame the referees for that? Isn't it your own fault?
Next time Kevin goes to the doctor, you should get your head checked too.
Ancelotti glared at the fourth official and walked back, disgruntled.
The man wasn't wrong.
Ancelotti hadn't thought of that before.
It seemed he'd made a mistake, but figuring out how to use Huang Kaiwen was giving him a real headache.
Starting him was risky, since he could get injured right away and that would have a major impact.
But if he didn't start, and Milan took the lead, bringing Huang Kaiwen on would just be gilding the lily.
If Milan were behind, Huang Kaiwen could change the game. But if he got injured at a crucial moment, Ancelotti would have used up his final substitution and been left helpless.
Ancelotti had never imagined Huang Kaiwen would give him such a headache.
All he could do was curse Inter Milan in his heart. If it weren't for them, Kevin wouldn't get injured so easily.
On the pitch, Huang Kaiwen got the ball again.
This time, he received it in his own half.
Reggina's players rushed to press him at breakneck speed. Huang Kaiwen wasn't fazed at all. He nudged the ball forward at once and simply outran Balestri.
Balestri's heart jolted. His opponent's speed was simply outrageous.
Balestri had never faced anyone that fast. Even Kaka, the quickest player in Milan's lineup that day, wasn't as unbelievably fast as Huang Kaiwen, who'd come on as a substitute.
As soon as Huang Kaiwen beat the first player, Reggina's midfielders rushed forward one after another.
Mesto immediately decided to foul him.
After all, there were only three defenders behind them.
But he'd underestimated Huang Kaiwen's speed that day.
Almost as soon as Huang Kaiwen charged at him, he turned slightly and left Mesto behind. Mesto, who had reached out to grab and haul him down, froze in place, looking awkward.
Cannarsa hurried forward.
The Reggina defender grumbled to himself, Aren't you supposed to be playing on the right? How'd you end up on the left?
Are you trying to make me look bad?
As he charged forward, Cannarsa steeled himself. Even if it meant getting booked, he was going to give Huang Kaiwen a nasty one.
Whoosh.
Cannarsa judged the timing and launched into a sliding tackle, his gleaming studs flashing under the lights.
Just as he was about to catch Huang Kaiwen, Huang Kaiwen stepped forward with his left foot, clamped the ball between both feet, and leapt—clearing Cannarsa's leg with perfect timing.
Meanwhile, he flicked the ball from behind him and sent it forward.
A Rainbow Flick!!!
"Kevin!!!"
"Kevin!!!"
"Kevin!!!"
San Siro erupted.
Reggina was in the same predicament as before. There were still only two defenders in their penalty area, while both Milan forwards and Kaka were nearby, eager to pounce.
"Pass it!"
Inzaghi raised his hand again, asking Huang Kaiwen to pass to him.
Huang Kaiwen, already at the left edge of the penalty area, sent a low cutback. Shevchenko's eyes lit up in the center. He burst forward, beat the defender to the ball, and fired it straight into the net.
Huang Kaiwen ran over to celebrate, completely ignoring Inzaghi's complaints.
There were two forwards on the pitch. Giving each of them an assist was only fair.
Inzaghi was an Italian, and Shevchenko was about to win the Ballon d'Or.
Both were big shots. Huang Kaiwen wasn't about to offend either of them.
If he kept both of them happy, who in the dressing room would dare disrespect him?
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