By the way, Marouane Fellaini had initially considered leaving Manchester United in January.
There were offers on the table, mostly from the Chinese Super League, promising astronomical wages and VIP treatment.
However, the big Belgian believed his competitive level hadn't declined enough to justify "semi-retirement" just yet.
He chose to stay and fight for his place.
Anthony Martial, on the other hand, made a different choice.
He joined Paris Saint-Germain.
He felt he couldn't endure Mourinho's rigid management any longer. Rather than wasting his youth at Old Trafford, constantly drifting in and out of the starting lineup, he decided to return to his homeland to reignite his career.
...
Returning to the pitch...
In the 68th minute of the match against Huddersfield, Romelu Lukaku was tripped in the penalty area.
Juan Mata stepped up and calmly converted the spot-kick, sealing a 2-0 victory.
United maintained their lead at the top of the table.
However, many United fans were jokingly dissatisfied.
"Only 2-0? Boring!" came the tweets.
The euphoria from the previous 7-0 thrashing of Tottenham had set the bar so high that a routine win felt dull by comparison.
Of course, deep down, they were relieved. After the Burnley defeat, stabilizing the ship was crucial.
Elsewhere, the league table underwent significant changes:
Manchester City 1-1 Burnley (City dropped points again!)
Arsenal 5-1 Everton (Aubameyang debut hat-trick?)
Chelsea 1-4 Watford (Conte on the brink)
Liverpool 2-2 Tottenham (Kane's 100th goal controversy)
Mohamed Salah showcased his quality with a brace, reclaiming the top spot in the scoring charts.
The "Egyptian King" was in red-hot form, projected to surpass 30 goals.
The race for the Golden Boot was now a three-horse thriller:
Mohamed Salah: 23 Goals
Jeremy Ling: 22 Goals
Harry Kane: 20 Goals
...
With their next league game against Newcastle scheduled for February 11th—seven days away—Mourinho granted the squad a rare day off.
Jesse Lingard immediately organized a team outing to a VIP club in Manchester.
"Come on, Ling! It's going to be legendary!" Lingard pleaded.
"Can't," Ling declined, packing his overnight bag. "I have to go to London. Business."
The next morning, Ling was on a train to the capital.
The brand this time was Coca-Cola.
For months, a silent war had raged between Pepsi and Coca-Cola for Ling's signature.
Jorge Mendes, Ling's agent, had employed a classic strategy: play them off against each other.
Mendes didn't just look at the money; he looked at the data. In China, Coca-Cola held a dominant 53.4% market share compared to Pepsi's 32.2%.
As the most famous Chinese player in the world, Ling had to be associated with the winner.
Even an endorsement by God would fail if the product was second-best.
Mendes kept both giants waiting, forcing them to bid against themselves.
But when Ling scored four goals against Tottenham, Coca-Cola panicked. They realized his value was skyrocketing by the hour.
They tabled an offer Pepsi couldn't match.
But Mendes wasn't done.
He inserted "performance clauses." Every goal, every trophy, every individual award would trigger a bonus payment.
Coca-Cola agreed. They were desperate to shoot a spectacular commercial to capitalize on the hype.
...
The next day, a black Mercedes van emblazoned with the Manchester United crest pulled up outside a grand building in London's West End.
Coca-Cola Headquarters.
It was an architectural marvel—a 1920s Edwardian Baroque-style block that had been gutted and redesigned. It radiated old money and new power.
Hendrick, Coca-Cola's Marketing Director, stepped out to greet him.
"Ling! Welcome!" Hendrick shook his hand warmly. "I was at the game the other day. Brilliant performance! Although... I'm an Arsenal fan, so seeing Tottenham lose 7-0 was the highlight of my year."
Ling laughed. "It would be better if you were a United fan."
"I can't do that," Hendrick joked. "My family has supported Arsenal since my great-grandfather. If I switched sides, my ancestors would come down from heaven to beat me up."
They walked inside.
The interior was stunning.
A three-story atrium wall dominated the lobby, showcasing vintage Coca-Cola memorabilia from the last century. But the centerpiece was a massive art installation hanging from the ceiling—a "comet" made of 80,000 acrylic ice chunks, suspended on fine wires, glowing with LED lights.
"Incredible," Ling murmured.
"We like to make an impression," Hendrick smiled. "Come, your partner is upstairs. He's very excited to meet you."
Ling walked into the green room and spotted a familiar face.
It was Lu Han.
The Chinese superstar singer and actor was already dressed in the Coca-Cola red branding. But underneath his jacket, Ling could see a red shirt.
"Ling!"
Lu Han jumped up, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. "Come quick! You have to sign this!"
He held up a Manchester United home jersey.
"I've been a United fan since the Beckham days," Lu Han chattered excitedly, handing Ling a marker.
"I've been trying to get to Old Trafford for ages, but my schedule is crazy. I actually watched the Huddersfield match from the stands yesterday! Too bad you weren't playing."
Lu Han was bubbling with energy. "Man, if I had come a few days earlier, I could have seen the Tottenham game! Four goals! I was screaming at my TV in the hotel!"
Ling smiled, feeling immediately at ease.
Lu Han wasn't acting like a celebrity; he was acting like a fanboy!
"No worries," Ling said, signing the shirt with a flourish. "Tell you what. We play Chelsea at home at the end of the month. I'll get you a family ticket to the VIP box. You can come down to the locker room after."
"Really?" Lu Han's eyes widened. "That would be a dream!"
"Hope you score another quadruple!" Lu Han grinned.
"That might be a bit of a stretch," Ling laughed, patting him on the back. "But I'll try."
"Okay, gentlemen!" the director shouted, clapping his hands. "Places! Let's make some magic!"
.....
"And... cut! That's a wrap!"
The director's voice echoed through the high-ceilinged studio in West London.
Ling wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
Filming a commercial was, in some ways, more tiring than a training session. For the last four hours, he and Lu Han had been juggling, volleying, and performing trick shots under the glare of hot studio lights.
"That was incredible," Lu Han beamed, breathless but exhilarated. "The way you caught that ball on your neck... I need to practice that."
"You're not bad yourself," Ling grinned, tossing the match ball to the Chinese idol. "You've got a decent touch."
"Sign in English at the top, and in Chinese at the bottom," Lu Han requested, holding out the jersey he had brought.
"This has to be one of a kind in the world."
Ling obliged, signing the shirt with a flourish.
Lu Han treated the fabric like a holy relic, carefully folding it into his bag.
That evening, Ling treated Lu Han to a private dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant in Mayfair.
It was a rare moment of relaxation, two young icons from the same homeland sharing stories away from the cameras. But even as they laughed, Ling's mind was already drifting north, back to Manchester, and to the battle ahead.
...
St. James' Park: February 11th
The bus journey to Newcastle is long, and St. James' Park is one of the most hostile grounds in England.
The stands tower vertically over the pitch, creating a cauldron of noise.
Rafa Benítez, the tactical grandmaster, had set a trap.
Knowing United's struggles against compact defenses, Benítez deployed a rigid 4-4-2. He instructed his side to sit deep but counter aggressively. He used Dwight Gayle as the focal point to chase long balls, with Matt Ritchie and Ayoze Pérez fighting for the second balls.
On the wings, the blistering speed of Christian Atsu was a constant threat.
For the first 45 minutes, it worked perfectly.
United dominated possession but looked toothless. Every time they crossed the halfway line, they ran into a wall of black and white stripes.
67th Minute
The game was becoming a stalemate and United needed a moment of magic.
It started with Paul Pogba.
The Frenchman dropped deep, collected the ball from Smalling, and turned away from Shelvey. Instead of looking for the Hollywood pass, he drove forward, his long strides eating up the midfield.
Ling saw the movement.
He drifted off the left flank, occupying the "half-space" between the Newcastle fullback Yedlin and the center-back Lascelles.
"Movement creates chaos," Mourinho had drilled into them.
Pogba fired a pass into Juan Mata. The little Spaniard didn't control it; he flicked it first-time around the corner.
Romelu Lukaku was waiting at the edge of the box. Using his immense strength, he pinned his defender, acting as a wall.
He cushioned the ball into the path of the onrushing Ling.
"Ling is arriving!" Martin Tyler shouted.
Ling didn't take a touch. He let the ball roll across his body to his left foot.
Bang!
He unleashed a fierce, low drive.
The ball skidded off the wet turf, flashed past the despairing dive of the goalkeeper, and nestled into the bottom right corner.
0-1 Manchester United!
"Deadlock broken!" Gary Neville cheered. "It's precise! It's clinical! The combination play through the middle was exquisite!"
Ling didn't slide this time.
He sprinted ten meters, leaped high into the air, and punched the sky—a celebration of pure relief and power.
Pogba and Lukaku rushed to embrace him. Their chemistry was undeniable and the team was fighting for each other.
With the lead secured, Jose Mourinho did what Jose Mourinho does best.
He signaled to the bench.
Michael Carrick ON. Juan Mata OFF.
United shut up shop. They retreated into a defensive shell, inviting Newcastle to break them down.
Newcastle pumped crosses into the box, but Smalling and Jones headed everything clear.
Peep-peep-PEEP!
Full Time: Newcastle 0 - 1 Manchester United.
"A typical Mourinho masterclass," Neville summarized. "They showed desire, they showed grit, and they refused to drop points. It might look messy to the neutrals, but this is how you win titles."
...
Back in Manchester, the routine resumed. The "Three-Point Line"—Dormitory, Canteen, Training Pitch.
But for Ling, there was a fourth point: The Study Desk.
A few days after the Newcastle game, a thick envelope arrived at the training ground mailroom.
Ling opened it with trembling hands—more nervous than he had been before the Tottenham game.
Subject: A-Level Results
He scanned the paper. Mathematics: ABusiness Studies: AEconomics: A
AAA.
Ling exhaled, slumping back in his chair.
A grin spread across his face.
It wasn't enough for Cambridge or Oxford, perhaps, but it was more than enough for his target. He checked his email.
For months, he had been living a double life.
Training with Zlatan and Pogba by day, and studying supply and demand curves by night. He was exhausted, but he had done it. He was officially a football prodigy and a scholar.
"Not bad," he whispered. "Not bad at all."
...
While Ling was celebrating his grades, the Premier League drama continued.
Arsenal 3 - 0 Tottenham The shockwaves of United's 7-0 demolition of Spurs were still being felt.
Tottenham looked broken.
At the Emirates, they were sluggish and fearful. Arsenal, desperate to save their own season, tore them apart.
Spurs had now lost back-to-back games against the "Big Six" by an aggregate score of 10-0. The psychological damage inflicted by Ling and United was real.
Manchester City 5 - 1 Leicester City If anyone thought City were going away, they were wrong. Sergio Aguero scored four goals in the second half.
Kevin De Bruyne was unplayable.
City remained just three points behind United. They were a shark swimming in the water, waiting for a single drop of blood.
...
Despite United sitting top of the table, the pundits remained skeptical.
A poll in The Guardian asked: "Who will win the Premier League?"
Manchester City: 68%
Manchester United: 32%
The narrative was clear: City played beautiful football; United played "anti-football."
City had squad depth; United relied on moments of individual brilliance.
But inside the United dressing room, nobody cared about polls.
They knew the truth. They had beaten City. They had beaten Tottenham. They had beaten Arsenal.
Stats don't measure heart. And right now, United had the biggest heart in the league.
...
February 17th: FA Cup Fifth RoundHuddersfield Town vs. Manchester United
The schedule was relentless.
Huddersfield fans groaned when the draw was made.
They had just lost to United in the league. Now they had to face them again in the Cup.
This left Huddersfield fans deeply frustrated.
It was common for two teams to meet three times in a single season, but losing all three matches in a row was rare.
So, they could only hope their team would muster some pride and fight back.
Moreover, Manchester United had a Champions League knockout match in four days, so Mourinho would definitely not field his main lineup.
This was their chance to win.