Arsenal's performance in the opening round was unquestionably dominant.
Di Maria and Sanchez, in particular, blended smoothly into the frontline, giving Arsenal's attack both balance and sharpness.
That said, not everyone was convinced.
Crystal Palace were hardly a benchmark opponent, and some critics argued that one match was far from enough to truly test Arsenal's rebuilt squad. Still, it was impossible to deny that the team had clearly upgraded. Once this system settled and the chemistry fully formed, just how high Arsenal's ceiling could be became an increasingly intriguing question.
Meanwhile, Kai found himself welcoming a rather unusual set of new neighbors.
The CCTV documentary crew moved quickly and efficiently—just six people in total. Two presenters, two cameramen, one director, and a team leader.
The leader stood out. He was surprisingly young, tanned from the sun, and physically solid by Asian standards—clearly someone who spent a lot of time around sports, gym, or was just genetically gifted.
Although they had already arrived in London, they didn't rush to disturb Kai's routine. Instead, they settled in first.
Kai appreciated that.
He valued his space and disliked unnecessary interruptions.
The community he lived in wasn't large, but its security was excellent—one of the main reasons he had chosen it. Inside the compound, there was a small public football pitch and a running track. Just five minutes away lay the River Thames.
Still, Kai rarely went there. Tourists crowded the river year-round, and his presence would only create trouble—both for himself and for security.
Most days, he ran either inside the community or along a quiet road winding through the hills behind it.
At around four in the afternoon, as the heat finally eased, Kai changed and stepped out.
The moment he opened the door, he saw three people waiting outside.
The CCTV crew.
A director in a gray vest, a young woman dressed neatly with a microphone in hand, and a cameraman.
All three visibly perked up when they saw him.
The director stepped forward first.
"Hello, Kai! We're—"
Kai smiled and shook his hand.
"I know. Are you starting already? Don't you need some rest?"
They'd only arrived the day before. Starting this fast felt intense.
The director laughed awkwardly.
"Head office wants the first episode as soon as possible."
He hesitated, then asked,
"Are you free right now?"
Kai shrugged lightly.
"You're already here. It'd be rude to say no."
Then he added,
"But I need to go for a run first. We can film after?"
"No need," the director said quickly, waving his hand.
"We'll follow you."
"Follow me?" Kai couldn't help but laugh.
He wasn't doubting their enthusiasm—but his training pace wasn't exactly designed for casual jogging.
"How about I lend you an electric scooter?" Kai suggested.
The director looked embarrassed.
"Uh…"
Kai just smiled, turned around, and disappeared inside. Two minutes later, he came back riding a small electric scooter.
"This can take two people," Kai said, pushing it over.
The director accepted it, then turned to the young woman.
"Xiao Ma, you head back first. We'll continue the interview when we're done."
She nodded, then smiled at Kai.
"Can I get an autograph later?"
"Of course," Kai replied.
With that settled, they set off.
Kai ran ahead. The director drove the scooter behind him, the cameraman perched on the back, lens fixed firmly on Kai.
The run began inside the community. After exiting, Kai turned onto a narrow road and began climbing uphill.
His pace on the incline was controlled, almost mechanical. When he reached the ridge, however, he exploded forward—an abrupt burst, like a sprinter out of the blocks.
The director and cameraman jolted in surprise and accelerated instinctively.
Then, just as suddenly, Kai eased off, returning to his previous rhythm. Now and then, he mixed in another short burst, but once he left the ridge, his pace settled into something calm and relentless.
Half an hour later, Kai finally came to a stop on a platform.
The platform had been built directly into the hillside, offering a clear, sweeping view of the buildings spread out below.
Kai rested one leg on the railing and began stretching methodically.
The director and cameraman seized the moment and stepped closer.
"Do you run like this every day?" the director asked, slipping naturally into his role as interviewer.
Kai nodded.
"Most days, yes. When it gets closer to match time, I ease off a bit. Toward the end of the season, I usually stop this kind of training altogether. At that stage, every bit of energy matters."
The director, clearly a football fan with a solid grasp of Arsenal's history, nodded in agreement.
"Arsenal used to fade late in the season quite often. Fatigue, limited rotation—it caught up with them."
Kai smiled lightly.
"Exactly."
He switched legs and continued stretching.
The director studied his movements for a moment before asking,
"Is there any secret to your stretching?"
Kai's posture did look unusual. One leg rested on the railing, the other planted wide for support, his hips rotating slowly side to side, then forward and back.
"There's no fixed formula for stretching," Kai explained.
"It depends on what gives your ligaments the best range. This position lets me feel the stretch properly."
The director nodded and pressed on.
"A lot of fans are curious about what a professional player's daily training looks like. Could you walk us through it?"
"At Arsenal, training sessions aren't especially long," Kai said.
"Usually one to two hours. Tactical sessions take longer, but even then, it rarely goes beyond four hours."
He paused, then added,
"A lot of the work is self-directed. The club monitors what you do and the results you produce, but how you get there is largely up to you."
"Professional football is ruthless," he continued calmly.
"If you fall behind, someone else takes your place. No one needs to be reminded to train."
He lowered his leg, rolled his waist once more, and straightened up.
"Let's head back down."
"Run down?" the director asked instinctively.
"Walk," Kai replied with a smile.
Running uphill built stamina. Running downhill, on the other hand, was an injury waiting to happen.
What had taken thirty minutes to run ended up taking the three of them nearly an hour and a half to walk.
Eventually, they arrived back at Kai's residence.
Kai invited them inside.
Though often referred to as a villa, the house itself wasn't particularly large—just two floors, about 130 square meters each.
The ground floor served as the living area, with a living room and bedroom. The upper floor was dedicated entirely to fitness, packed with training equipment.
Kai had never planned to settle permanently in London, so he hadn't bought property.
The interior was spotless and unexpectedly minimal. Wooden floors gleamed, white walls were bare, and nearly all the furniture—sofa, television, refrigerator—was black.
It was clean, simple, and orderly.
With Kai's permission, the cameraman began filming.
Kai went off to shower.
When he returned, towel around his neck, he noticed the two standing hesitantly at the door of one room, whispering to each other.
He walked over.
"What's up?"
The director gestured inside.
"We wanted to take a look, but thought it'd be better to ask first."
It was Kai's trophy room.
Kai smiled.
"Come on. I'll show you."
The room itself was modest in size, no bigger than an ordinary bedroom.
Inside stood four glass display cabinets, each with a golden base, holding different trophies.
"This one's the European Young Team of the Year," Kai said casually.
"That's the Premier League Player of the Season. These are FA Cup and Premier League medals. And that cabinet's for the World Cup Best Eleven."
He paused, then smiled awkwardly.
"Feels a bit… plain, doesn't it?"
Compared to players with rows of medals and individual trophies, his collection did look understated.
But every trophy in the room had been earned the hard way.
. . .
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