Throughout January, Arsenal's performance remained steady, disappointing those who had hoped to see the team falter.
These fans had long expected Arsenal to produce moments of inexplicable brilliance, and this season was no exception. Yet after January began, the team kept performing consistently, revealing a simple truth: Arsenal's strength this season was stable and continuous.
Even with rotated squads, Arsenal managed to control matches.
In less critical games, the main players got plenty of rest. The FA Cup lineup was almost entirely reserves, letting the club conserve energy while leaving fans with a sense of mild frustration. Many of the first-team stars weren't on the pitch together, reducing some of the usual highlights.
Still, Arsène Wenger occasionally played his core players to keep them sharp, often as substitutes.
For example, since the start of the season, Kai's minutes had been noticeably reduced, part of Arsenal's strategy to preserve him.
Even so, Kai's statistics remained on par with last season, drawing admiration from the media. His performance alone could earn him a starting defensive midfield role—or even a core position—at any top club.
And Kai never stopped improving.
Everyone wondered what his future would look like.
The day before a match, Wenger let the players go home after a light training session. Kai took the chance to visit Colney, London.
This was where he had first lived when joining Arsenal, and even after two or three years, the place still held a deep sense of home. The locals weren't surprised to see him; he visited regularly, either to see the Billy family or stop by Mr. Wilson's barbershop.
Ding
The bell rang. Mr. Wilson lounged in his rocking chair.
"Not open today," he called without looking up.
"Then where do I get a shave?" Kai asked.
At the familiar voice, Mr. Wilson sat up and laughed when he saw Kai at the door. "Well, if it isn't my boy."
"Come, come. Have a seat."
Kai smiled and took a seat, running a hand through his bushy beard. "It's getting a bit long even with trimming."
Mr. Wilson nodded. "I'd say so. You shouldn't keep it like this. Needs to be simpler, cleaner."
"Like what?"
"Leave it to me," Mr. Wilson said with a grin.
Leaning back in the chair, Kai joked, "Sir, this isn't my scalp. If you cut the wrong spot, I'll be dead."
"Don't worry," Mr. Wilson said confidently. "Compared to cutting hair, shaving's my real talent."
He spread foam over Kai's beard and began shaving.
"By the way," Mr. Wilson said, "congratulations."
Kai opened one eye. "For what?"
"Don't play dumb. Fifth place. Ballon d'Or."
Kai let out a quiet breath. "Ohh."
"Don't ohh me," Mr. Wilson replied. "Fifth in the world. Not bad for someone who spends most of his time tackling people."
Kai shook his head slightly. "It's just a ranking."
Mr. Wilson stopped shaving to look at Kai. "Still matters. Means people are watching. Means they see what you do."
Mr. Wilson added, "And your teammate, Suárez. Third place. Proper baller. Thank god he left his biting habits at Liverpool."
"Don't let him hear that." Kai laughed. "He deserves it. Carried a lot of the scoring."
Mr. Wilson chuckled and continued. "You two carried the whole team if you ask me."
Kai let out a small sigh. "That's not how it works."
Mr. Wilson wiped the blade and stepped back for a second. "You know, give it time. Today, Messi, Suarez, Neuer, and Ronaldo are above you, but one day, you might go even higher. Maybe top three. Maybe number one."
Kai locked onto Mr. Wilson through the mirror.
"Not happening," he said calmly.
Mr. Wilson raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit pessimistic."
"It's realistic," Kai replied. "That award looks at goals, assists, moments. Attacking players will always stand out more."
He tapped the armrest lightly. "I'm a defensive midfielder. Most of what I do doesn't show up the same way."
Mr. Wilson snorted. "Anyone who watches properly knows your value."
Kai shook his head. "Maybe. But I'm not chasing the Ballon d'Or. I leave it to those two in La Liga. I just need to do my job."
Mr. Wilson laughed, a deep, amused sound. "You say that now. Wait until you're standing closer to the top."
Kai smiled faintly. "If that happens, it means the team's winning. That's enough."
Mr. Wilson didn't argue further. He just nodded and went back to work, finishing the shave with careful strokes.
A few minutes later, he stepped aside. "There. Take a look."
Kai sat up, wiped his chin, and studied the mirror. The beard was trimmed into sharp, clean lines, giving him a more defined look.
Kai stroked his chin and smiled. "I'm starting to believe you."
Mr. Wilson chuckled. "I wouldn't dare make a mistake. That'd be a sin against Arsenal."
Kai set some money on the counter, knowing Mr. Wilson wouldn't take it.
"The match is tomorrow. Will you come watch?"
"No," Mr. Wilson said.
Kai turned, surprised.
"I went last time, my heart nearly gave out," Mr. Wilson explained wryly. "My family won't let me go anymore. But I'm stubborn. We made a deal: I will only go for the Champions League Final."
Kai's eyes widened slightly.
Champions League Final?
Why does everyone act like this? He thought of Mrs. Winter, too. Everyone seemed to assume Arsenal could reach the final—and maybe even lift the trophy this season. It was a common hope among fans, but it also carried weight for Kai.
"I'm off," Kai said, shaking his head with a smile, and left.
Mr. Wilson watched him go. "If I put pressure on you, I'm sorry. But this… this is what we all hope for."
Kai waved backwards, got into his car, and drove off.
Mr. Wilson smiled. "Good lad."
After returning home, he went through a short training session to keep his body sharp. Nothing intense, just enough to stay in rhythm.
He had just stepped out of the bathroom when his phone rang.
Kai glanced at the screen and smiled. "That's rare."
He picked up.
On the other end, Chen Man spoke first. "Tomorrow's Little Fei monster-fighting match. Thought I should at least show some concern."
Kai leaned against the wall, drying his hair. "Then why are you calling the monster? Shouldn't you be encouraging Ouyang Fei?"
"Come on, give me some face," Chen Man said with a laugh. "Don't let him lose too badly."
"This isn't a Chinese cultivation fantasy," Kai replied, shaking his head.
Chen Man chuckled. "Jokes aside, be careful. Ouyang Fei has improved a lot this past half-season. If you're not switched on, he might cause problems."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"
A brief cough came through the phone. "I'm just reminding you not to get complacent."
Even Chen Man knew it was a stretch. Basel knocking out Arsenal was hard to imagine. The gap in squad quality alone was obvious.
And even with support, Ouyang Fei wasn't at a level where he could truly challenge Arsenal's midfield.
"Tomorrow, I'm watching with the cap," Chen Man added.
Kai paused. "You two are together?"
"How would that work?" Chen Man said. "He's got Champions League matches, I've got mine. We'll just watch on video call."
Kai laughed softly. "Fair enough."
"Anyway," Chen Man continued, "put in a performance. Don't let Ouyang Fei steal the spotlight."
Kai's tone stayed calm. "Don't worry."
They spoke for a bit longer before ending the call.
Kai lowered his phone and sat quietly for a moment.
He had noticed Ouyang Fei's progress. That much was clear. But in truth, the gap was still there.
Physically, technically, tactically, Ouyang Fei wasn't ready to challenge him one-on-one.
If it came down to a direct battle, Kai was confident he could control it completely.
As for Basel, they were a well-organized side with clear strengths, but Arsenal had more than enough to deal with them.
Kai believed that without hesitation.
. . .
On January 18th, Basel arrived in London ahead of the Round of 16.
The Champions League atmosphere was already building across the city. Arsenal shirts were everywhere, and the sense of anticipation was impossible to ignore.
For Basel's players, it brought pressure.
They had spoken confidently before arriving, but standing in London, facing the reality of the occasion, it felt different.
Arsenal's history, their form this season, the scale of the stage, it all added weight.
Basel still believed in themselves, but not to the point of thinking they could dominate. That confidence had limits.
. . .
January 19th.
The Champions League returned after two months.
Round of 16.
Arsenal against Basel.
As Basel's bus pulled up to the Emirates Stadium, the tension was clear.
For Ouyang Fei, it was even stronger.
As he walked past the main entrance, he saw it.
A massive poster of Kai is placed prominently at the stadium entrance.
A Chinese player, the face of a top club.
That alone said everything about Kai's status at Arsenal.
Ouyang Fei stopped for a brief moment, his eyes lingering on the image.
He had always seen Kai as the target. The level he wanted to reach.
But standing here now, the gap felt real.
One was the captain of a Premier League giant, competing among the best in the world.
The other was still rising in the Swiss league, trying to prove himself.
Among all the Basel players, Ouyang Fei felt that pressure the most.
. . .
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