Beijing, China.
Shen Yuzhu stepped out of a taxi into a narrow, weathered alley. The air was chilly, the grey walls worn and tagged with old posters and fading paint. She paused for a moment, glancing down the quiet corridor of buildings before turning back to the driver.
"You're sure this is it?" she asked, skeptical.
"Just walk straight down about 500 meters," the driver replied. "You'll see the gate of the Central Academy of Drama."
It was hard to believe. Shen Yuzhu had imagined something more refined, more ceremonial—surely not tucked away in such a cramped and humble alley. But she nodded her thanks and stepped forward.
She and Wei Zheng had only just returned to Beijing the night before, fresh from a business trip in Europe for Yang Yang's club and management affairs. Since Yang Yang had prepared gifts for all his Ajax teammates recently, he'd also prepared something special for Su Ye. Originally, Wei Zheng had planned to deliver it himself—after all, he was the one who knew Beijing best—but an urgent matter pulled him away that morning. So Shen Yuzhu offered to do it before their flight south later that day.
At the entrance of the alley, she hesitated again, scanning her surroundings, when a stocky young man happened to approach from the opposite direction. Cheerful and broad-faced, he gave off a lively, talkative energy.
"Excuse me," Shen Yuzhu asked politely, "Is this the way to Zhongxi?"
"Central Drama? Yeah, just keep walking—about 500 meters in," the young man nodded. He caught the subtle foreign tone in her Mandarin and lit up. "Looking for someone, sis?"
"Yes," she said, smiling.
"Who?" he asked, puffing up proudly. "I'm a student here too—acting department. I probably know them!"
"Su Ye," Shen Yuzhu answered.
He froze for a second. "You're looking for Su Ye?"
"You know her?" she asked, curious at his tone.
"Of course! She's basically the pride of the campus." His eyes widened with admiration. "She's our school flower—got a perfect score in the campus poll. No one's ever done that before."
Shen Yuzhu laughed. "Really? Isn't it only been a few weeks since term started?"
"You don't understand!" he waved his hands dramatically. "On the very first day, everyone saw her and the forum exploded. We're talking 10s across the board—beauty, grace, aura. She's the type where you stand in front of her and suddenly feel like you've wasted your own life."
Shen Yuzhu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"A few weeks ago, I saw her sitting across from a friend in the cafeteria. That guy went back to our dorm and wouldn't shut up about it all night—said it was like seeing an angel in casualwear. Swore she looked better without makeup than most actresses do with it."
"Sounds exaggerated," Shen Yuzhu said, laughing again.
"I swear it's true! And then there was this rich second-generation guy from outside school—he brought 999 roses and tried to propose under her dorm window."
"What?"
"I'm serious!" the boy said, hands raised. "Even offered to bankroll her debut movie and make her the lead actress."
"And what did she do?" Shen Yuzhu asked, now intrigued.
"She came down herself and rejected him—very directly. Told him she already had a boyfriend, someone she loved deeply."
The young man sighed, like a character in a tragic play. "Half the boys on campus were heartbroken, but somehow that made her even more admired. Now we all want to know: who is this mystery boyfriend?"
He peered at Shen Yuzhu with a grin. "Do you know who he is? Just give me a clue—I swear I won't tell."
She held back a smile. "Sorry. Even if I did know, I wouldn't spoil it for you."
"Fair enough," he said, chuckling. "If I ever found out, I wouldn't have the guts to talk to her again anyway."
Before they could continue, a young woman emerged from the school gate. Her steps were light, her smile radiant, and her presence seemed to change the feel of the entire street. Shen Yuzhu felt it instantly—how everyone around paused to glance at her.
"Yuzhu-jie!" Su Ye called warmly as she approached, her eyes lighting up. Then she noticed the young man standing beside her and gave him a polite nod. "Brother Qiaoshan, thank you."
The boy blinked in surprise, then immediately turned red and looked away. "No problem," he muttered before scurrying off down the alley, clearly flustered.
Shen Yuzhu watched him go, then turned back to Su Ye, half-laughing. "You really are something."
Su Ye grinned, linking arms with her. "Sorry I didn't pick up your call. I was in rehearsal. Didn't we say we'd meet at noon?"
"Yang Yang asked me to deliver this to you," Shen Yuzhu said, handing her the small handbag. "We're heading back soon—we still have work at the company."
Su Ye nodded, opening the bag and finding the gift box inside. Her cheeks flushed immediately.
Shen Yuzhu observed her for a moment, even a little dumbfounded by how radiant she looked. Youthful, bright, refined—it wasn't just beauty; Su Ye had a presence that quietly stole the scene.
...
...
After walking Shen Yuzhu to the edge of the alley, Su Ye stood and waved as the taxi disappeared into the traffic. The moment the car turned the corner, she spun on her heel and hurried back toward the dormitory, excitement dancing in her steps.
Once inside, she didn't even stop to take off her coat. She went straight to her bedside, sat down, and carefully opened the small handbag Shen Yuzhu had delivered. Inside was a slim, black box. Her breath caught slightly.
She lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled in a soft lining, lay a rectangular electronic device—sleek, minimalist, and gleaming in the afternoon light. White casing, a large display, and a disc-shaped click wheel on the bottom. Its back panel reflected her face like a mirror—stainless steel, polished to perfection.
Even without knowing what it was, Su Ye felt as if she were looking at a piece of art.
Shen Yuzhu had told her briefly it was an MP3 player for listening to music, but Su Ye didn't care about the specs. It was from Yang Yang—that was enough to make her heart flutter.
Under the device, neatly arranged, were a charger, a user manual, a CD-ROM... and a handwritten note.
"I bet you don't know how to use this!"
Su Ye rolled her eyes with a smile, instantly picturing Yang Yang's teasing grin as he wrote it. She could almost hear him laughing.
"Not true," she muttered, half to herself. "I'm not that hopeless with electronics."
Just as she was getting more comfortable, the rustling caught her roommates' attention.
Someone gasped. "Wait—is that what I think it is?!"
A second later, another exclaimed, "Oh my god, Su Ye, is that the new Apple iPod Video?!"
Su Ye barely had time to hide the note before her bed was surrounded. Her roommates crowded around her, eyes wide and glittering, completely mesmerized.
"It's stunning…"
"It launched just this month—October 12th, right? It's only been out a few days!"
"Is this the 60GB version?! Su Ye, this must've cost thousands!"
"This hasn't even hit shelves here yet—how did you get your hands on it?!"
"I heard Steve Jobs said this was Apple's new multimedia revolution—it plays music, videos, photos, e-books… Everything!"
"You have to sell this to me. Please, I'll pay double!"
Su Ye, still sitting cross-legged with the iPod cradled protectively in her lap, tried to answer but found herself speechless from the bombardment. There was a mix of pride and disbelief welling in her chest—she hadn't expected Yang Yang's gift to cause such a stir.
But the moment someone offered to buy it, she snapped out of her daze.
"No way," she said, hugging it close. "This was a gift from my boyfriend. It's not for sale."
The room froze.
"Boyfriend?" one of the girls echoed.
Su Ye's calm composure cracked under their gaze. A deep blush spread across her cheeks.
Her roommates erupted in squeals of disbelief.
"Su Ye blushed! I swear she blushed!"
"The goddess really has a boyfriend? Oh my god—so what you said before was true?"
"He must be some kind of legend. Do we know him? Tell us something—anything!"
They circled her with relentless questions, like a pack of curious journalists. But Su Ye simply smiled, evasive and silent, unwilling to give away more. Her gentle refusal only deepened their curiosity.
Eventually, after much teasing and begging, they relented.
When they'd all returned to their own beds, still whispering and giggling, Su Ye finally picked up the iPod again.
The screen lit up—fully charged.
Of course it was. He'd thought of everything, even preparing it for her to use right away.
There was only one song loaded: "Making Love Out of Nothing at All" by Air Supply.
She slipped the earbuds in and hit play. The melody began softly, echoing through her chest like a heartbeat. As the music swelled, she leaned back against the dormitory wall, her thoughts slowly drifting toward distant Amsterdam.
The lyrics came through clearly — dramatic, heartfelt, and unashamedly romantic:
"I can make the run or stumble,
I can make the final block,
And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle,
I can make all the stadiums rock..."
Su Ye's eyes misted.
"I can make tonight forever,
Or I can make it disappear by the dawn,
And I can make you every promise that's ever been made,
And I can make all your demons be gone..."
She closed her eyes.
"But I'm never gonna make it without you,
Do you really wanna see me crawl?
And I'm never gonna make it like you do,
Making love out of nothing at all..."
The passion in the song mirrored the longing in her heart. Su Ye listened to it once, then twice. And when the third play began, her cheeks were already streaked with silent tears.
"I miss you, Yang Yang," she whispered to the screen. "So much."
...
...
When Yang Yang woke up and saw two QQ messages on his phone, he smiled to himself — still a little dazed from sleep, but already in high spirits.
Lying in bed, he immediately called Su Ye, who was far away in Beijing. The two spoke for a long while, laughing and chatting, until someone knocked on Yang Yang's door. Only then did he hang up, reluctantly.
After washing up and putting on his full set of warm winter gear, he stepped outside to begin his daily routine: morning training with his close teammates.
It had become a habit over the last three years — spring, summer, autumn, or winter, he never missed a session. Even in stormy weather, he would stay home and train indoors.
Initially, it was just him, Vermaelen, Maxwell, Maicon, and Filipe Luís. Later, Nicklas Bendtner joined in. And now even Yaya Touré had started showing up.
They all lived nearby, and agreed to meet each morning to train together before heading to De Toekomst. It wasn't just about fitness — it was about camaraderie. They were all around the same age, and hierarchy hadn't yet formed. Even someone like Yang Yang, now a global name, felt just like one of the guys.
That sense of unity was worth cherishing.
Yesterday, to celebrate being named to FIFA's World Player of the Year top ten shortlist, Yang Yang gifted each of his Ajax teammates the newest model of Apple's recently released iPod Video — still rare in Europe — along with a pair of high-end headphones. He spared no expense.
On top of that, he personally promised to cover all expenses for the upcoming team Christmas party. Maxwell was assigned to organize it, and Yang Yang asked that the entire squad be gathered together the night before Christmas to celebrate.
Given that the 2006 World Cup would compress the league schedule, the Eredivisie was still active through the holidays. Ajax, like many Dutch clubs, was traditionally frugal — every cent accounted for.
But Yang Yang didn't worry much about money anymore.
Just a few days ago, Wei Zheng and his cousin Shen Yuzhu had come to Europe on business, bringing with them three new domestic endorsement contracts — each worth over 10 million yuan. Between domestic commercial deals alone, Yang Yang was earning nearly 100 million RMB annually. Add in his Nike sponsorship, and his yearly income had soared to staggering levels.
By now, he was earning far more than his father's entire company.
Yongqiang Shoes, his father's business, had gained visibility by sponsoring domestic marathon events and building a name in the running shoe market. But even at its most profitable, it brought in less than half of what Yang Yang now earned on his own. Yang Yongqiang often joked that his son's success had thrown the family balance out of alignment.
Crucially, all Yang Yang's endorsements and sponsorships were after-tax income. Wei Zheng had helped him set up a holding company in China for managing investments, and under the advice of a friend in the financial industry, they had purchased shares in Tencent (the parent company of QQ) just before its listing. The investment had already grown significantly.
When the Shanghai Stock Exchange hit bottom in June, Yang Yang — again guided by Wei Zheng's network — bought into promising stocks like CITIC Securities, China Shipbuilding, and Suning Appliance. Now, they were waiting patiently for returns.
Beyond stocks, Yang Yang was also looking into tech startups around Zhongguancun, Beijing's emerging Silicon Valley. He hadn't made a move yet, but both he and Wei Zheng were optimistic about the future of the Chinese internet industry.
His recent deep dive into Apple — while selecting gifts for Su Ye and his teammates — had sparked a personal interest in the company. He admired Pixar films and was especially fascinated by Steve Jobs' vision.
So, in addition to buying Apple products, he quietly purchased €3 million worth of Apple stock. He saw it as a long-term investment. Not because he was a financial expert — but because he believed in Jobs.
It was the same reason he'd supported Wei Zheng's investment in Tencent the year before. He and Su Ye used QQ to communicate every day. It made life simpler. He firmly believed software like that would redefine the way people connected.
As a footballer, Yang Yang wasn't even on Ajax's highest salary tier, but his bonus earnings — especially from goals and team performance — were climbing fast this season.
Buying iPods for the team or funding a holiday party barely made a dent in his accounts. And the returns were always greater: trust, camaraderie, unity.
Even Nike, with whom he still had more than a year left on his contract, had already approached Raiola to discuss renewal. Adidas, meanwhile, had entered the race with strong intentions. They were prepared to pay heavily.
Yang Yang's performances were part of the reason. But behind that, there was something else: the Chinese market.
He had now surpassed even Yao Ming in terms of influence across Chinese sports. The deal he signed with Nike back in 2004 — which had seemed so generous at the time — now felt outdated.
This time, both Nike and Adidas knew what was at stake. The battle would be fierce.
And the foundation of it all?
Still the same.
Yang Yang's performance on the pitch.
Everything — endorsements, investments, recognition — began with the ball at his feet.
...
...
The news that Yang Yang had gifted Apple iPods to his Ajax teammates, coaches, and staff quickly exploded across the European media.
Though the individual gifts weren't extravagant—each costing just a few hundred euros—the gesture's significance was amplified by scale. With around sixty people in total, including players, coaches, and support staff, the total value came to over €20,000.
The press praised Yang Yang's generosity and humility. More than the monetary value, it was the symbolism that stood out. As the club's undisputed star and offensive centerpiece, Yang Yang had received unwavering support from everyone at Ajax—on and off the pitch. His way of giving back was seen not only as classy but genuinely heartfelt.
More importantly, this wasn't the first time.
Just the year before, he had given everyone on the team the newest Motorola phone available. This year, it was Apple's iPod Video, still a luxury item in Europe. The gesture significantly enhanced Yang Yang's image, not just inside the club but across European football.
As Mino Raiola put it, when big clubs decide to move for a player, they don't just look at talent—they look at character. And Yang Yang, he said, checked every box.
In today's game, talent alone wasn't enough. A player also had to be someone who understood relationships, loyalty, and respect. Yang Yang wasn't just the face of Ajax. He was the heart of it.
While the media buzzed with admiration, inside the Ajax dressing room, the mood was even better. The squad was more united than ever.
The players had already begun rallying around Yang Yang as their new leader. Not just for his talent—but for the way he carried himself every single day.
November 6 marked four days since Ajax's difficult but thrilling 5–2 Champions League win away at Thun. Now, they were back in domestic action, heading to face NEC Nijmegen in the eleventh round of the Eredivisie.
It was a tricky fixture. Last season, Nijmegen had caused major problems for Feyenoord.
At the pre-match press conference, NEC head coach Ron de Groot made a half-joking remark. "Yang Yang owes us one," he said, smiling. "We made his Golden Boot campaign easier last season. Maybe this time he'll go easy on us."
Then came match day.
"GOOOOOAAAAAAL!!!"
The stadium was stunned.
"Unbelievable! Less than a minute into the match, and Yang Yang has already opened the scoring for Ajax!"
"Incredible! That might be the fastest goal of the Eredivisie season so far!"
From the right flank, Yang Yang had driven inside toward the edge of the penalty area. Then, without hesitation, he let loose with his left foot—cutting across the ball and smashing it into the bottom corner. A stunning solo effort.
The cameras cut to NEC manager Ron de Groot on the touchline, arms raised in mock protest.
"He looks like he's shouting, 'We had a deal!'" the commentator laughed. "He asked Yang Yang to show mercy, but clearly our top scorer forgot!"
"Last season Kuyt came here and couldn't hit a barn door," another commentator added. "But Yang Yang? Different level. That's why he's not Kuyt."
"De Groot must feel like an abandoned man in a romantic comedy. 'We had a moment, Yang Yang!'"
But jokes aside, the reaction from the Ajax players was one of awe.
Even they hadn't expected it.
When the ball came to Yang Yang, they were anticipating a pass back or a switch of play. But instead, he seized the moment—saw a pocket of space, trusted his instincts, and struck.
Even his own teammates were caught off guard.
And yet, the ball rippled the net.
Sometimes, they simply didn't understand how he saw the game.
Maybe that was what made him different. Maybe that was the mindset of a true star.
If Yang Yang had heard their thoughts, he would've only shrugged.
He hadn't overanalyzed it. He'd seen the opportunity, felt the confidence, and believed in the strike. That was it.
A star player lives on instinct. And within the team's tactical framework, Yang Yang had earned the right to express himself freely. His creativity and finishing were trusted.
Even if the shot had missed, no one would have complained. That was football.
But if it had been someone else—Pienaar or the still-young Ryan Babel—they wouldn't have had that same leeway. Once or twice might be excused. But three or four missed chances, and the whispers would start.
Yang Yang never abused the privilege.
On the contrary, his sense of responsibility ran deep. He knew the freedom he enjoyed was earned through performance and trust.
That's why his shooting efficiency remained the highest in the league.
And that's why his goals kept setting the team alight.
Because every time Yang Yang found the net, Ajax didn't just take the lead.
They ignited.