Meanwhile, in Hong Kong.
A Jie was a "play-money player," his joking name for his profession.
He worked as an agent for underground football betting, mainly serving Chinese-speaking clients in Southeast Asia. That Saturday night, he was watching the live odds on several matches as usual, including Auxerre against Boulogne in round 20 of Ligue 1.
"Auxerre giving one goal, low payout... Boulogne getting one goal, high payout..." A Jie watched the betting lines while chatting with his clients on a messaging app.
His clients mainly came from Hong Kong, Taiwan, Malaysia, and Singapore. Most were Chinese speakers, and their approach to football betting was simple and direct-they did not bet on wins or losses, but on "special markets."
For example, "who scores first," "total goals," "whether there will be a hat trick," and so on.
"Brother Jie, what do you think of this Auxerre match?" a client from Taiwan asked in the group chat.
A Jie glanced at the line. "Auxerre are giving one goal at home. Looks pretty solid, but their attack is poor. They only scored 18 goals in 18 matches in the first half of the season. I wouldn't recommend betting heavily."
"Didn't they just sign a mainland striker?"
"What good does signing him do? What can he do on his debut?" another client cut in. "How many Chinese players have made it in the top five leagues? I'm taking Boulogne with the handicap."
The group chimed in with agreement.
A Jie did not join the discussion, but he opened the profile of that new signing from mainland China-18 years old, no professional match experience, previously at a domestic U20 training camp, expelled for fighting, then banned for five years.
That background made A Jie frown.
Not because it was bad, but because it was too outrageous.
A player expelled from the National Youth Team and banned for five years had signed straight into Ligue 1? And he was starting on his debut?
A Jie had spent seven or eight years as an underground betting agent and had seen countless upsets and shady dealings, but he had never seen anything like this.
"Interesting," he muttered to himself, then sent a message to his client group:
"Anyone want to back a big Auxerre win? The odds are good."
Nobody replied.
A Jie shook his head and kept watching the screen.
The match began.
Over the first twenty minutes, Zhang Kuang's performance made A Jie's eyes grow wider and wider-this mainland player was not there to coast along. He could really play.
In the twenty-fifth minute, Zhang Kuang scored a header.
A Jie's finger paused on the mouse for a second.
In the forty-third minute, Zhang Kuang unleashed a volley, a worldie.
A Jie took a deep breath, opened a chat window with a client, and quickly typed a few words:
"This mainland lad is something else."
In the sixty-seventh minute, in the second half, Zhang Kuang shook his head like a lion and headed home for a hat trick.
A Jie fell silent.
It was not that he had never seen a hat trick, but he had never seen one like this. Three goals, three different methods, and every one of them world-class.
"This mainland lad..." A Jie murmured. "He's going to blow up."
Without hesitating, he immediately opened his recording software and captured the second-half footage. Then he posted the video to several Chinese forums he frequented.
The title had just four words:
[Chinese Super Striker's Hat Trick Lights Up Ligue 1]
On the forum, the first person to see the video went by "Red Devils Old Chen," a Chinese Manchester United fan who had lived in Manchester for over a decade.
When he saw the title, his first reaction was, Someone's talking big again.
After clicking through, he froze.
The image quality was not great, but that figure in the white number 33 shirt stood out far too much. Every touch seemed to come with its own slow motion-not that he was actually slow, but his rhythm was different from everyone else's. When others were challenging, he had already controlled the ball. When others were controlling it, he had already passed. When others were passing, he had already set off.
"This defies science..." Red Devils Old Chen stared at the screen and watched Zhang Kuang's second goal three times over-a volley, the kind of shot that gave the defenders no chance at all.
"Is this really a fucking Chinese player?"
He opened a search engine. Fifteen minutes later, Red Devils Old Chen published a long forum post titled:
[Everything I Found Out About Zhang Kuang, and My Analysis.]
The post was long, but its core content amounted to just a few paragraphs:
"First, Zhang Kuang, born August 18, 1991, currently 18 years old, 185 centimeters tall, weighing 75 kilograms, position: striker."
"Second, he trained at a football school in China, was selected for the China U20 Training Squad four months ago, and was expelled two months ago for fighting. At the same time, the China Football Association banned him for five years."
"Third, a week after the ban, he went to France and joined Auxerre through a trial. He officially signed on January 4, started on his debut on January 16, and scored a hat trick."
At the end of the post, Red Devils Old Chen wrote:
"I won't comment on what happened to him in China. I'll only talk about what I see now-an 18-year-old Chinese player scoring a hat trick on his Ligue 1 debut, with all three goals world-class. We've never had a player like this. Never."
Over the next two hours, the post was shared more than a thousand times, spreading from the forum to Tieba, from Tieba to Weibo, and from Weibo to every corner of the Chinese-language internet.
"Is anyone watching Ligue 1? That Chinese guy really scored a hat trick."
That became the most popular line in Chinese football circles that night.
Singapore.
Lin Zhiwei was a veteran football data analyst who normally provided data services to several Southeast Asian bookmakers. He had no work scheduled that weekend and had instead stayed home to watch the live broadcast of Auxerre against Boulogne.
Not because he had an assignment, but because, over a month earlier, he had happened across Zhang Kuang's trial data while compiling the winter transfer list-that set of data had left a deep impression on him.
"An overall striker rating of 81-83?" he had said with a frown at the time. "A Chinese player? Impossible."
But now, having witnessed Zhang Kuang's hat trick with his own eyes, his professional judgment began to waver.
After the match ended, Lin Zhiwei immediately opened his database and began searching for every available piece of information on Zhang Kuang.
Training records from a domestic football school: available, but incomplete.
Selection records for the U20 training squad: available, but covering only a little over a month.
Beyond that, he could find nothing.
No Chinese Super League appearances, no China League One appearances, not even any China League Two appearances.
An 18-year-old player who had never appeared in a professional league had scored a hat trick on his Ligue 1 debut.
Lin Zhiwei stared at the rows of data on his screen and remained silent for a long time.
Then he picked up his phone and called his boss.
"Boss, I need you to help me look into someone."
"Who?"
"A Chinese player. Zhang Kuang. He's at Auxerre."
"What's the matter?"
"I need all his information." Lin Zhiwei paused. "Because he could become one of the most sought-after players in this summer's transfer window."
There were a few seconds of silence on the other end. "All right. I'll have someone look into it."
By the time Zhang Kuang left the stadium and was about to get into the car, his phone was practically exploding with messages.
He unlocked the screen and saw dozens of unread messages.
From Aisha, Lina, Matilda, Jonathan, and several people he barely kept in touch with.
He opened Jonathan's message first:
"Zhang, your phone must have blown up by now. I've screened the messages for you. Three media outlets in China want to interview you, and two French sports outlets have also sent interview requests. But I don't think you should be doing media interviews just yet. Wait a few more matches, put in some better performances, and then do the interviews. What do you think?"
Zhang Kuang replied with an "OK," then opened a message that was both expected and unexpected-from Wu Guohua.
"Little Zhang, I watched the match. A hat trick, good! Good! Good! Play well in France. Don't let your talent go to waste. And look after yourself. Don't get injured."
Reading the message, Zhang Kuang suddenly felt a slight sting in his nose.
This old coach, in his sixties, had climbed out of bed at three or four in the morning to watch his match live.
He rubbed his nose and replied:
"Coach Wu, thank you. I'll keep working hard. When the season ends, I'll come back to China to see you."
Less than ten seconds after he sent the message, Wu Guohua's reply arrived:
"Don't come back to China. Train hard. I'll go to France to see you when I retire."
"All right."
Zhang Kuang held his phone, leaving the screen lit for a long, long time.