Chapter 237: "I Can Really Do This! Want to Give It a Try?!"
After scoring the go-ahead goal, Li Ang acted even before Mourinho could, immediately commanding his teammates to quickly fall back into formation.
By the 70th minute of the second half, both teams had expended a great deal of energy.
Chelsea, having relentlessly pushed forward earlier in search of a goal, saw most of their midfield and attacking players growing fatigued.
In contrast, Everton's defenders and holding midfielders were the more exhausted side, meaning they still had the potential to hit back on the counter.
Having followed Mourinho for several years, Li Ang had developed a deep understanding of counterattack tactics. He knew better than to keep giving the opponents chances in such a dangerous phase of the game.
When it's time to go all-in, you go all-in — but once the gamble pays off and you take the lead, you also need to know when to play it safe.
Li Ang's leadership was highly influential. When he said it was time to defend, the rest of Chelsea's players followed suit without question.
Not long after, Mourinho made a decisive substitution: Oscar was taken off and replaced by Ramires, who partnered Matic to form a double-pivot in midfield.
Lampard dropped deeper to the top of Chelsea's own center circle, forming the first line of defensive pressure alongside Hazard and De Bruyne, who had also tracked back.
Li Ang's timely command and Mourinho's tactical adjustment rendered Everton's subsequent wave of attacks rather toothless.
Roberto Martínez paced nervously on the sideline.
Left with no choice, he began making changes up front. First, he subbed out the exhausted Barkley for the veteran Osman.
Soon after, he replaced the aging Pienaar with Deulofeu.
With that, Everton's attacking force was somewhat replenished.
But at such a critical moment, they lacked the kind of player most suited for breaking down compact defenses — a traditional target man.
Without a tall center-forward, it's nearly impossible to establish a proper focal point when trying to break through tightly packed formations.
Had Fellaini not left the club, Martínez would have relied heavily on him.
Fellaini's strong frame and dominant aerial presence would've made him the perfect man to lead the charge in times like this.
Unfortunately, Fellaini was now at Manchester United, where he hadn't managed to secure a starting role.
His departure had ultimately been a loss for both him and Everton.
Martínez, watching his side's clumsy attacks, was filled with envy as he looked at Chelsea's Ibrahimović on the pitch and Lukaku on the bench.
He couldn't help but echo the complaints of many English media outlets and fans:
"Mourinho never travels without quality holding midfielders and great center-forwards — and he hoards several of them at a time...
If I had Li Ang and Ibrahimović, my record wouldn't look too bad either!"
Of course, such complaints stayed in Martínez's mind — he wouldn't dare say them out loud.
For the final 20+ minutes of the match, Li Ang essentially stayed back alongside Gary Cahill to guard Chelsea's box.
He no longer engaged in 1v1 duels with Everton attackers — they barely even reached him.
Everton's only real method of getting the ball into Chelsea's penalty area was through crosses.
But with Li Ang and Cahill dominating the air, Eto'o hardly had any chance of getting on the end of things, let alone Deulofeu hovering outside the box.
In the end, this match once again highlighted a truth:
The ability to win tough, grinding matches determines a team's floor in a league campaign.
Only by securing your floor can you truly contend for a top-four spot.
Everton had paid a heavy price in this regard — and not for the first time — so it was no surprise that they ultimately lost.
Chelsea, on the other hand, managed a miraculous comeback in thrilling fashion, snatching victory in this Premier League Matchday 26 showdown that stunned countless fans.
Unsurprisingly, Li Ang was once again awarded the Man of the Match champagne,
And with his teammates, he helped Chelsea maintain their unbeaten home record this season.
Yet with the match over, the football world quickly turned its focus to the fact that Li Ang — making his debut as a makeshift center-back — had delivered a near-flawless performance.
In the past, fans had speculated about such a scenario.
Li Ang's exceptional man-marking and spatial awareness had always made him seem like a natural for a high-pressing center-back role.
So it wasn't uncommon for supporters to wonder: "What if Li Ang played as a defender?"
Such discussions were usually no more than thought experiments — like asking how Cristiano Ronaldo or Messi would perform as a central striker or a playmaker.
But this time, it actually happened.
Li Ang filled in at center-back… and he was brilliant.
As a result, a new narrative quickly emerged in English football:
Would Mourinho keep playing Li Ang in central defense until Terry and David Luiz returned from injury?
Major media outlets in England fanned the flames, unleashing a parade of pundits and analysts to take turns "breaking down" whether Li Ang could continue to perform at a superstar level if he permanently switched to central defense.
Back home during Chelsea's two-day break, Li Ang was happily watching the circus on TV.
"These guys really think they know me? I taught myself how to tackle-and-keep through watching match footage and asking Captain John for tips.
Now they've got the nerve to claim I learned it from Thiago Silva? Their brains must be fried!"
"It's 2025! Who still talks about sweepers?! A few years from now, every top club will want their center-backs to be able to press and drop back interchangeably.
If I really do switch to center-back, I'll need to learn how to organize the whole back line — it's nowhere near as easy as they're making it sound."
"What a load of crap! Sure, great holding midfielders are becoming rare,
but that doesn't mean quality center-backs are disappearing.
And Silva's still got plenty of years left in him.
These so-called experts are so short-sighted!"
He spent a good while mocking the so-called pundit currently rambling on Sky Sports.
Just as he was about to change the channel to see if The Sun had put together any spicy segments, his phone suddenly rang.
"Jorge? You've got time to call me right now?
Didn't you say you were heading to Huaguo for a few days? What time is it over there...?"
Li Ang sounded surprised.
Just a few days ago, Mendes had mentioned flying to Huaguo to renegotiate the terms of a new three-year endorsement deal with a company he'd previously worked with.
Normally, he'd still be resting — so why was he calling now?
"Ha, I'm still in Russia. About to take off soon, but not just yet.
Kid! You better thank me — and remember to treat me to dinner when I get back!"
Just as the words left his mouth, Mendes quickly hung up the phone, leaving Li Ang completely puzzled.
Before he could even react, a new message from Mendes appeared on his phone.
The message began with a string of numbers—clearly a phone number—and the note that followed made Li Ang's eyes widen in shock.
"Don't be shy, little lion. I got this contact for you through official channels. That girl just started training at a modeling agency. Honestly, she's more of a student than a model. She's heading to Paris next week for more training. Don't waste the opportunity!"
Li Ang's mind short-circuited—he immediately realized what Mendes was talking about.
And in his mind, the image of a beautiful girl with a blushing face quickly resurfaced...
Three days ago, Li Ang had attended a charity gala in London, hosted by his club's big boss, along with a few teammates.
These types of events weren't just for charity. Ever since he became famous, Li Ang had lost count of how many such galas he'd been to.
He'd grown used to treating them simply as dinner opportunities to network after training sessions.
Abramovich didn't mind. In fact, he loved Li Ang's blunt nature and always invited him to "crash" these dinners.
Li Ang never felt the need to mingle with so-called Western high society.
He wasn't seeking business deals—usually, companies came to him—and he didn't have anything he needed help with.
So, he just did things his own way.
That night, with his teammates around, Li Ang was even more relaxed.
He ate and drank at the event, said polite hellos to familiar faces, and when others wanted to meet him, he simply greeted them with courtesy.
At his level, he was among the top figures in world football.
In terms of wealth, he'd be the sport's top earner by the end of the season.
So yes, he had the right to reject small talk—and to live on his own terms.
But then several modeling agencies arrived with their top models, and the young Chelsea players who had been calm until then immediately got restless.
It wasn't unusual. In European football, it's common for players and beautiful models to date—or at least have brief flings.
Li Ang wasn't a fan of such fleeting romances, but from Spain to Italy and now in England, he had seen it all.
So he laughed and scolded his starry-eyed teammates, shooing them away from the model-filled corner.
To Li Ang, this was shaping up to be just another dull evening.
At least, that's what he thought—until he spotted a young girl who clearly didn't fit in with the atmosphere.
She was speaking English with a strong Russian accent, trying to ask a waiter for help—apparently, she was looking for someone.
But her accent made it hard to understand, and Li Ang couldn't help but chuckle at her flushed, anxious expression.
In the end, he stepped in to help.
"Who are you looking for? I can ask around for you."
When Li Ang spoke fluent Russian, the stunning young girl was stunned. Then, blushing deeply, she thanked him and explained:
"My agent… sorry to bother you… do you know where the model agency representatives Mr. Abramovich invited are gathered tonight?"
After asking a few staff members, Li Ang guided the confused girl back to her agent—who turned out to be her aunt.
It was a short encounter.
Normally, Li Ang wouldn't have given it another thought after helping her.
But just as he was about to leave, he found himself asking for her name.
"Anastasia… are you—"
He'd meant to ask if she was Russian.
But the curious looks from the surrounding guests made him realize how it must have appeared.
He smiled, nodded to the girl, and quickly walked away.
Yes, as he later complained to his assistant, he knew he'd just done something that could be easily misunderstood.
He couldn't handle the way everyone had looked at him.
So he ran.
Or rather, the moment he instinctively asked for her name, he realized: this wasn't simple anymore.
If he had asked her in private, it would've been no big deal, even if she misunderstood.
But under all those eyes, with the obviously young girl blushing and staring up at him, unsure of what to do...
Li Ang had no idea how to react—so he fled the scene.
On the ride home, he ranted to his assistant about how badly he'd embarrassed himself.
The assistant just laughed and asked a single question:
"Was she very beautiful?"
Li Ang had nodded before he even realized what he was doing.
Then he sat up straight, realizing he'd walked right into that trap—but deep down, he couldn't deny it.
That girl, possibly a fellow countrywoman of Abramovich, was indeed beautiful—radiantly so. She was tall, graceful, and had a clean, innocent beauty.
Li Ang might normally bury his personal desires to focus on football, but he was still a young man—just 22, full of energy, constantly pushing himself through extra training.
"I didn't do anything wrong… did I?"
Li Ang now sat on his couch, asking himself this in silence.
Suddenly, he remembered all the beautiful girls he'd turned down back in Spain.
"You've already given your youth to football. Maybe it's time to do something different. Admit it—you're captivated by that girl's beauty. But that's normal. Everyone falls for a pretty face. So why not give it a shot?"
The tempting voice echoed again in his heart.
Li Ang couldn't deny it anymore—he really did like her face... fine, and her body too.
He wasn't going to lie and say he loved her already. But he did want to get to know her better—to have another chance to talk.
He looked again at the phone number Mendes had sent. The string of digits stared back at him, and he couldn't deny the impulse rising in him.
"Yes, it was shallow to be moved by beauty… but this girl? I really could go for her.
So... should I try?"
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