Chapter 68: When Fake Becomes Real and the Real Seems Fake
Lewis Holtby picked up a yellow card, and Mikel Arteta and Emmanuel Adebayor, being the chief instigators, also received yellow cards.
Before the first half ended, the referee had already handed out five bookings.
The derby atmosphere became immediately tangible.
Arsenal had a free kick in the attacking third.
Jack Wilshere saw the opposition wall was set and the chance was slim, so he nudged the ball back to Mikel Arteta.
At that moment, Xia Qi dropped back from the front.
Cheers rose around the stadium.
The response the fans had been waiting for from Xia Qi had arrived.
Arteta glanced at Arsène Wenger on the touchline; seeing no instruction, he played the ball to Xia Qi.
The crowd's roar hit its peak.
"Xia Qi is so tough!"
"Some players like to show their toughness with words; he shows it through deeds."
"He's young. What's youth without some blood? Arsenal badly needs this kind of grit."
"Pressure's on Spurs now — do they dare slide in under public scrutiny?"
Tottenham had retreated into a compact defensive shape; their defense was intact.
So Xia Qi strolled the ball lazily across the halfway line.
That attitude wasn't an attack so much as provocation.
Holtby, young and proud himself, burst from his ranks to press Xia Qi, waving to his teammates to stay back and not help.
That gesture won applause from everyone in the stadium.
Inspired, the youngster's face lit up and he seemed to be filled with boundless energy.
When the two were three or four meters apart,
Xia Qi suddenly accelerated and feinted to dribble past Holtby's left.
Holtby knew Xia Qi and Gareth Bale both loved to "eat youngsters" — every feint had to be guarded against — but when he lunged left, he didn't commit fully; he held back about thirty percent.
Sure enough, Xia Qi tapped the ball from his right foot back to his left.
Xia Qi's left foot was on Holtby's right side; Holtby hastily adjusted his center of gravity.
But the ball was like a fried dumpling — as Holtby changed direction, Xia Qi pulled the ball back to the right.
Holtby's mind → go left.
His body → go right.
His foot → who do I listen to? One foot listening to another?
Then don't fall on your face.
Xia Qi looked down coldly at Holtby from his high position, then strolled the ball forward.
The damage was small, but the humiliation was intense.
Holtby's face flushed deep red; he scrambled to his feet and chased Xia Qi, and from behind launched a sliding tackle.
"Ah!"
"Be careful!"
Shouts of alarm echoed through the stadium.
"Holtby…"
"Danger."
On the Penguin broadcast, Zhang Lu gasped.
Under AI control, Xia Qi casually strolled forward. Facing Mousa Dembélé and Gareth Bale, he flicked at the ball.
At the same time,
Holtby's sliding tackle arrived,
and it looked like his boot was going to connect solidly with Xia Qi's right foot.
Fans who cared about Xia Qi and were nervous covered their eyes.
Arsenal's physiotherapist was already standing by the touchline.
Everyone expected that revenge-laden tackle to plant Xia Qi into the turf, clutching his foot and rolling in pain...
Holtby had seen Xia Qi pass the ball but did not withdraw his boot — his intention had been to hit Xia Qi's foot.
The stands filled with curses, and some Spurs fans shook their heads.
Holtby thought he could nick Xia Qi's right foot; he had mentally prepared for a red card.
But he missed!
He swiped thin air and froze on the spot — where had Xia Qi's foot gone?
It turned out the AI had calculated that any raised foot would not be hit.
So a martial arts move appeared on the pitch: a skyward kick.
Xia Qi planted his left foot, raised his right foot to head height — posture upright and powerful — a masterful high kick that even a martial arts teacher would admire.
Online the jokes erupted:
"Didn't learn martial arts? Then don't dare play football."
"Xia Qi's so mean — waiting for him here."
"Xia Qi must be a kung fu grandmaster; look how calm he is."
Emirates Stadium turned into a sea of laughter; what seemed like it might become an accident turned into a story.
People easily accepted Xia Qi's movement — foreigners already assume Chinese people know kung fu, and Xia Qi being of Chinese descent performing a skyward kick seemed perfectly natural.
Xia Qi passed the ball to Lukas Podolski.
Podolski shot and hit the side netting.
Only after Podolski's strike did the referee walk to Holtby and show him a yellow card.
Two yellows added up — Holtby was sent off.
...
Down to ten men, Spurs — seize the moment!
Buoyed by Arsenal fans' urging, Arsenal intensified the pressure.
Their attacks were grand in scale but produced few truly dangerous shots.
The reasons were:
First, Arsenal's players were too eager; they wanted to swallow the opponent whole and lacked coordination.
Second, Spurs with ten men rallied together; especially the midfield and defense threw themselves into desperate blocks and cleared many threats.
In the 42nd minute, Xia Qi squeezed past Jan Vertonghen near the penalty spot and unleashed a low driven shot.
The ball threaded past Dawson and Kyle Walker but was tipped on to the post by Hugo Lloris' fingertips and spun out.
When the ball slid out by the post, Xia Qi's head buzzed like a failing computer fan, stopping and starting — the sound in his mind.
Xia Qi guessed that Lloris' godlike save had stunned the AI.
AI calculations follow normal patterns; human will and superhuman performances aren't within its range.
Lloris, having pulled off the save, stood and pumped his arms.
Spurs fans joined his cheer with warm applause.
If he could, Xia Qi wanted to tell Lloris: "Brother, well done — you made us humans proud."
The fourth official then signaled eight minutes of added time — an extremely long period.
Spurs fans barked discontent.
Everyone could see the ten-man Spurs were hanging on by a thread; such long added time is lethal to a team on the cliff edge.
However,
football is round.
Podolski shot; Vertonghen cleared it out of the box; Scott Parker both cleared and passed with one kick.
The ball reached near the center circle; Adebayor leapt high and nodded it on to Gareth Bale.
Spurs fans cheered.
Their plan of leaving some men forward even in danger had paid off.
Bale faced Bacary Sagna's defense, shifted quickly and drove the ball to the flank.
Sagna tracked him tightly, trying to force him wide.
Bale tried to dribble several times but Sagna gave him no opportunity.
Sagna's defending brought Wenger back down to the bench, and Arsenal fans smiled again.
Soon they reached the byline. Bale placed the ball on the line, looking for what to do, then glimpsed a white figure sprinting into the box.
Without hesitation the cross was delivered into the area — over the near post Vermaelen, over the middle the goalkeeper, and toward the far post.
Aaron Lennon, sprinting in, rose high and smashed himself and the ball into the net.
In the 47th minute of the first half, ten-men Spurs had equalized.
"This is football. Spurs, down to ten men and under pressure the whole time, seized one of the few chances and pulled level."
"Where the fake becomes real and the real becomes fake — on the pitch only goals are real; everything else is illusory. The team dominating play may not score, while the team behind may end up laughing last..."
The sides went into the break level at 2–2.
When the referee blew for halftime, Wenger did not wait for his players; he turned away with a sour face and strode into the players' tunnel.
Clearly he was unhappy with the scoreline.
In contrast, Spurs were full of cheer and laughter...
(END CHAPTER)
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