Chapter 12: The First Glimmer of Fame

Although Eileen Chang’s outlook on life was questionable and her personal conduct left much to be desired, she still managed to say a few things that hit the mark. For instance, her famous line: “One must become famous as early as possible.” In the world of football, there is no shortage of players who rise to prominence at a young age. Some of these young talents eventually transform into superstars, others fade into obscurity, but most end up somewhere in between—neither particularly outstanding nor particularly mediocre.

Dai Zhiwei was convinced he was destined to become a football king, perhaps even surpassing Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, the reigning champions of the modern era. However, he never expected fame to come so soon. He had only played four matches—how could he already be famous? At the very least, he thought, it should be halfway through the season or even near the end before such a thing could happen.

What he failed to consider was the uniquely disappointing state of Chinese football. Dai Zhiwei was genuinely exhausted that day—not from the match itself, as he'd only been on the field for a little over ten minutes. The real fatigue came from fending off the journalists' barrage of bizarre questions.

Yet now, lying in bed, sleep eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed the moment he lobbed the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in astonishment, and the ensuing stampede of reporters. He was well aware that, at present, his ability merely qualified him as a rotation player for a mid-to-lower-tier team in the top five European leagues. Even compared to the likes of Kagawa Shinji from Japan or Son Heung-min from South Korea, he still had a long way to go.

Nevertheless, the thought that he had become the focal point of the Chinese sports media after the match—outshining even Goulart and Elkeson—was enough to disrupt his normally disciplined sleep schedule. For the first time, Dai Zhiwei suffered from insomnia.

After returning to the system’s virtual space, where he endured repeated bouts of ridicule from Tsubasa Ozora and was thoroughly outplayed by Teppei Raisai, Dai Zhiwei finally managed to calm his mind. Exhausted, he soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

While Dai Zhiwei slept soundly, oblivious, the outside world was already abuzz with his goal. Had his last-minute winner come against a team like Guoan or Shenhua, it might not have been worth much attention. But this time, who had he defeated? None other than Kashima Antlers, one of Japan’s football powerhouses.

That changed everything. The consensus had been that Guangzhou Evergrande’s away match against Kashima Antlers would be all about the foreign stars. But by the final whistle, everything had changed. Dai Zhiwei had single-handedly upset those expectations, leaving countless people dumbfounded.

“Boss, don’t start printing yet! Reserve the front page for me!” Calls flooded in to newspaper editors across the country the moment the final whistle blew at Ibaraki Kashima Stadium, all demanding the next day’s top headline.

By five the next morning, as Dai Zhiwei still slept, delivery trucks were already crisscrossing the country, distributing newspapers and magazines. Every sports headline that day was the same—

“Football prodigy shines in the Asian Champions League!”

“Guangzhou Evergrande’s wonder boy steps up in crisis, works another miracle!”

“A turn and dribble like the Ice Prince—youthful storm sweeps the pitch!”

“The national team has found its best striker for the next decade!”

“Back-to-back winners—shooting star, or a star that’s here to stay?”

“First it was Shijiazhuang Yongchang, then Chongqing Lifan, and now Kashima Antlers—who’s next?”

Even though Kashima Antlers were no longer the fearsome superpower of the previous season, news that a twenty-year-old Chinese striker had snatched victory from them still spread like wildfire. The national team might have been in shambles, but the domestic league was still relatively robust, with a sizable fan base.

Overnight, Dai Zhiwei became a public figure in the Chinese Super League. Of course, given the influence of Chinese football and the league itself, his star power might not even match that of a minor celebrity from the entertainment world.

When Dai Zhiwei finally opened his bleary eyes, he was already famous, though he was completely unaware of it. As usual, he crawled out of bed, rubbed his sleepy eyes, tugged his pants with one hand and scratched his head with the other as he shuffled into the bathroom. He squeezed toothpaste onto his brush and haphazardly jabbed it around his mouth until he felt it was enough. After washing his face, he changed into his training kit and prepared to head out for morning practice.

But as soon as Dai Zhiwei stepped outside and waited by the roadside for his ride, he noticed that some passersby were pointing at him from afar. He touched his face—there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Puzzled, but not overly concerned, Dai Zhiwei waited for his ride-hailing car as usual. He did have a driver’s license, but when he was on the reserve team, his salary hadn’t allowed for a car. After his promotion to the first team and a sizable raise, he still hadn’t found the time to buy one.

“I really should get a loan and buy a car,” Dai Zhiwei muttered as he stepped out of the elevator. Not having a car could be quite inconvenient.

Xu Weixiang was the ride-hailing driver who took Dai Zhiwei to training every day, and he drove a Cadillac CT5. While the ride-hailing service had its flaws, it was hard to beat in terms of convenience.

“Morning, Old Xu!” Dai Zhiwei greeted as he climbed into the car, right on time.

“Zhiwei, there’s something I want to tell you, but I’m worried you might not be able to handle it.” Xu Weixiang lowered the music and turned to Dai Zhiwei.

“What’s up?” Dai Zhiwei was used to Xu Weixiang’s jokes and took it in stride.

“Haha! Zhiwei, you’re a superstar now!” Xu Weixiang burst out laughing.

“A superstar?” Dai Zhiwei looked at him uncertainly.

“Absolutely! Don’t believe me? Take a look at the newspaper.” With one hand on the wheel, Xu Weixiang handed Dai Zhiwei a newspaper with the other.

It was an issue of Football Weekly, with Dai Zhiwei’s shirtless celebration after his goal splashed across the cover. Football Weekly, first published in 1980 under the Guangzhou Daily News Group, was the leading sports paper in China—first in circulation, news timeliness, page count, and brand recognition. With a readership rate of six percent, it topped all professional sports media, publishing five times a week and reaching 2.5 million copies per issue, with weekly circulation hitting 5.4 million.

“Not bad, though this photo doesn’t do me justice. I’m at least as handsome as Beckham!” Dai Zhiwei grinned as he looked at the paper.

He didn’t let it go to his head. In the system’s virtual space, even a minor striker like Teppei Raisai could thrash him relentlessly, let alone the unfathomable Tsubasa Ozora.

If not for being reborn into this world, Dai Zhiwei would have long been demoralized by the football legends from Captain Tsubasa.

Dai Zhiwei knew that only when his overall rating hit ninety could he truly be compared to the world’s best forwards.

Right now, he was only at seventy-three—a long way to go.

In his previous life, he’d seen countless young talents hyped up and destroyed by the media. As a former online football editor, he was all too familiar with the routine.

Especially in Chinese football: the moment someone showed a hint of promise, the media would inflate their accomplishments to the heavens. But after a poor performance or a bad run of games, the criticism would rain down without mercy.

There were always promising youngsters, but few became true superstars in the end.

Dai Zhiwei had long understood the cautionary tale of wasted talent.

Xu Weixiang, observing Dai Zhiwei’s reaction, was relieved to see him respond with a faint smile rather than the seriousness or arrogance that often came with a meteoric rise.

Xu Weixiang truly hoped that the young man he drove every day would become a football star.

After glancing at the sports section, Dai Zhiwei flipped straight to the entertainment pages. He’d always enjoyed gossip, and though he knew many stories were fabricated, he still found them fascinating.

“These journalists really missed their calling—they should be writing novels!” Dai Zhiwei thought, thoroughly entertained.