Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

”That was a perfectly timed goal for Chelsea,” Zhan Jun exhaled in relief from the PPTV commentary studio. ”City’s pressure was mounting, and Guardiola’s side has already given us more surprises than expected before the season’s even started…”

Manchester City’s intense offensive was enough to make him worry about Chelsea’s backline for a moment.

Had City managed to equalize in the first half, with the momentum swinging their way, the match could have flipped completely.

Fortunately, Chelsea didn’t just turtle up—they kept taking risks with counterattacks.

Now leading by two, the Community Shield looked almost locked up.

Just thinking about how Li Ang was about to collect his fifth club trophy of the calendar year was enough to fill Zhan Jun with genuine excitement.

After all, Li Ang still had a legitimate shot at completing a historic seven-trophy season.

Yes, he had already been part of a six-trophy-winning team back at Real Madrid. But Barcelona did it first, and Bayern replicated the feat last year.

So while remarkable, the six-trophy achievement wasn’t unique.

But seven trophies in a year? That would be a brand new record.

A feat neither Messi nor Ronaldo accomplished at their peaks.

Whether they had the chance or not was irrelevant—Li Ang now had the ability to do it, and that alone had captured the imagination of fans and pundits in China.

Li Ang might not care much about his historical legacy yet.

But fans? Media? They did.

He had the domestic popularity, the spotlight, the commercial power—and now the pressure that came with it.

Still, none of that was on Li Ang’s mind at the moment.

His focus was razor-sharp: win every remaining cup this year.

And honestly, this Community Shield might be the toughest of the remaining finals.

City was no joke—they were already a top-tier European squad.

Super Cup? Club World Cup? None of those future opponents had City’s muscle.

City wanted this match to build momentum and start a title-challenging season.

But Chelsea had their own reason for winning—to pave the way for a historic seven-trophy sweep.

Up 2–0, confidence was surging on both Chelsea’s bench and the pitch.

Mourinho, after Suárez’s second goal, quickly adjusted tactics.

He asked Li Ang to drop back and take up a holding role.

Chelsea retreated once more, and City hit a wall.

No more goals came in the first half. Chelsea took their 2–0 lead into the break.

It was during halftime that Mourinho called Lukaku into the dressing room.

Sure, the young striker’s move to Manchester United was all but confirmed.

But until it was finalized, Chelsea treated him as one of their own.

Mourinho wasn’t calling him in to give tactical instructions.

He wanted to make sure Lukaku got a proper farewell on the pitch.

The tactical briefing itself was short and sweet.

Chelsea’s second-half plan was simple: defend deep, counter hard.

Focus on wing play. Ditch complex buildup.

Expect Lukaku to come on around the 55th minute for De Bruyne, with Hazard and Lukaku as the main attacking outlets.

Once the instructions were done, Mourinho let the players rest.

Lukaku sat quietly at his usual spot in the dressing room, watching his teammates chat and laugh.

A wave of sadness washed over him.

It wasn’t drama.

If Chelsea had offered him a starting spot—up front or out wide—he’d have signed a long-term deal on the spot.

But the coaching staff had been clear.

He wasn’t 18 anymore. He was 22.

He’d spent two full seasons learning, improving, and doing whatever was asked.

And he was grateful for that.

But he didn’t have time to waste on the bench anymore.

A split was inevitable.

Not because he didn’t love Chelsea. Not because he didn’t fit.

He just wasn’t good enough to dislodge the players ahead of him.

Li Ang noticed the change in Lukaku’s mood.

He’d already tried to comfort him before. Tried to talk him out of leaving.

But now the decision was made, and there was nothing more to say.

With a quiet sigh, Li Ang walked over and tapped the top of Lukaku’s shiny head.

”Gonna score today, right? Don’t waste my passes again, you little punk…”

Lukaku smirked and looked up.

”Don’t worry, boss. I’ll bury it today.”

”I believe you.”

They sat together and chatted for a bit longer.

Then, with the clock ticking, Li Ang rose and signaled for everyone to get ready.

The second half kicked off, and Chelsea dropped even deeper, waiting for City to press.

Meanwhile, Mourinho had Salah, Lukaku, and even the young Gnabry warming up on the sidelines—a big smokescreen for Pep Guardiola.

Then, in the 56th minute, the changes began.

Lukaku came on for De Bruyne to add direct power on the wing.

Pep responded immediately, subbing off Sterling for Leroy Sané, hoping to energize the left side.

It worked.

In the 64th minute, Sané and David Silva switched flanks.

Sané took the ball on the right wing, cut inside—and Bertrand was caught half a step too deep.

Sané saw his chance and curled a shot from just outside the box.

It sailed past Čech’s fingertips and smashed into the top corner.

A debut goal on his first appearance.

Sané ripped off his shirt in celebration, running to the corner flag.

City fans roared. Wembley shook.

Guardiola’s substitution worked like magic, and the sudden shift in momentum made Mourinho visibly uneasy.

But when he saw Li Ang on the pitch shouting, gesturing for his teammates to stay calm, that tension eased just a bit.

”This was just a fluke, Ryan. I trust you to shut that kid down. If he swaps sides with Silva again, I want you to close him down before he reaches a dangerous area.

Tell me, Ryan. Can you do that?”

After settling the team’s nerves, Li Ang approached Bertrand, threw an arm over his shoulder, and asked him in a tone that was half-serious, half-playful.

Bertrand, though, didn’t dare joke anymore. His face was grim as he nodded repeatedly.

”I swear I will! He’s not getting another shot off!”

Satisfied that Bertrand’s head was finally back in the game, Li Ang patted him on the shoulder and walked off.

He’d done all he could—if Bertrand screwed up again, he’d be the one getting roasted by Mourinho’s infamous post-match hairdryer.

With his leadership duties handled, Li Ang turned to Matić and Kroos, making a tactical adjustment gesture. Then his eyes locked back onto City’s half with sharp focus.

City didn’t spend long celebrating the goal. They wanted more.

But in their eager push for a second, they ran head-on into a much more aggressive, physical Chelsea defense.

Led by Li Ang and Matić, Chelsea began pressing hard right at the center arc.

Matić knocked Silva down while challenging for the ball—one could still call that accidental.

But just a minute later, Li Ang came slicing in from the flank and cleanly wiped out Agüero, ball and all.

City’s forwards instantly exploded in anger.

The referee hadn’t planned to make a call—he was standing close, had a clear view of the tackle.

Li Ang got the ball first. The follow-through was tough, yes—but there was no real danger.

But when Agüero rolled theatrically on the grass, and a mob of City players swarmed Li Ang, the ref changed his mind.

As he ran in, he saw Li Ang shove both Sané and Fabregas aside with each hand.

Still, after some thought, he held off on issuing a card.

Once cooler heads intervened and pulled Li Ang away, the ref walked him aside and gave him a stern verbal warning.

Li Ang, sensing he’d gotten away with it, didn’t argue. He raised his hands and shrugged in compliance.

City’s players, though, weren’t having it.

”That’s a straight-up killer tackle! You didn’t see that?! At least book him!”

Agüero, just seconds ago flopping like he’d been shot, was now full of energy, shouting at the ref.

Li Ang raised an eyebrow, then smirked and taunted him straight back.

”Yeah, it was a ’killer’ move. Pretty impressive you’re still standing. What say we try it again later?”

”You motherf—!”

The Argentine striker had to be physically restrained by his teammates.

From the sideline, Guardiola just sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

He knew exactly what Li Ang was doing—deliberately stirring the pot to slow City’s momentum.

It was an old trick. He’d seen it many times.

Yet his players still kept falling for it.

Guardiola’s headache grew.

On the other side, Mourinho broke into a satisfied grin.

Sure enough, when play resumed, City’s attackers became consumed with physical duels instead of focusing on tactics.

Chelsea fans were delighted—City’s players were doing exactly what they wanted them to do.

If City weren’t using their technical edge, they were handing the match to Chelsea.

Six or seven minutes passed like this before City’s front line finally realized they were being baited.

They started linking up again with their midfield, trying to regain rhythm.

Li Ang read the shift and signaled the back line to push up, breaking City’s new passing patterns.

Amid the chaos, he stole the ball clean off Sané.

Lukaku was already pressing up near the halfway line.

Li Ang didn’t hesitate—threaded a precise pass forward.

Their timing was perfect.

Lukaku’s acceleration caught City’s defenders off guard.

Otamendi and Kolarov tried to close the space, but they were a step too late.

Lukaku had already burst past them, leaving them trailing in his dust.

It was a clean breakaway.

Bravo saw the danger and charged out, but Lukaku didn’t go straight.

Instead, from his favored right-side angle, he unleashed a signature curved shot into the near post.

This was the very finish Chelsea’s coaching staff—and Li Ang—had worked on with him.

Lukaku might be unpredictable in other areas, but from that zone, he was lethal.

He didn’t miss.

When the ball hit the net, he ran straight to the corner flag, arms outstretched.

One last goal in a Chelsea shirt. A farewell tribute to the fans.

It was also the final goal of the match.

With the score now 3–1, Mourinho locked things down.

He subbed on Cahill and Kalas, sealing off the backline.

Chelsea held firm and lifted their fifth trophy of the year at Wembley.

True, in England, winning the Community Shield doesn’t guarantee season-long success.

But no one at Chelsea cared.

They celebrated joyously and turned their eyes toward the two remaining trophies.

In post-match interviews, Li Ang was asked about Lukaku’s transfer to Manchester United.

He paused a moment, then smiled and said:

”When I first met Romelu, he was young and full of potential—just like Gnabry, who we brought in from Arsenal this season.

Romelu’s still young, but he’s not a prospect anymore. He’s already a star in the Premier League.

And I think Gnabry has the same potential.

They both have amazing talent.

As long as they stay humble and keep working hard, they’ll succeed—no matter where they go.”

”So, any final words for Lukaku?”

”Hmm…

Romelu’s headed to United.

Gnabry’s joined us at Chelsea.

They both have a bright future ahead.”

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