Chapter 864: If You Say You Held Back During the Match, Then

Halftime report: Tang Ye scores with a stunning bicycle kick, Olmo slots into the corner—China draws 1-1 against Spain in the first half!

In the Chinese team’s locker room, Escrivà explained his substitution plan for the second half.

As he spoke, Escrivà kept glancing toward Tang Ye’s direction—the Chinese captain sat silently on the bench, not uttering a word.

The group stage MVP has been rendered speechless after just one half…

At Escrivà’s signal, Ma Di approached Tang Ye: “Are you… okay?”

“Wasn’t that a penalty?”

Tang Ye finally spoke: “I jumped up first—he shoved his hand right into my lungs!”

“…”

“Hey, I know it’s the ref’s fault, but it’s over now.”

Ma Di sighed; Zhang Yuning came over to comfort him too.

Such a perfect chance for a 2-1 lead—and the ref refused the penalty. Even Tang Ye couldn’t swallow this: “Give me that penalty and we’d be 2-1 right now!”

Tang Ye is still venting!

“It’s fine, it’s fine, let’s drop it. I know you’re right—you’re always right.”

Ma Di himself thought Alaba’s shove wasn’t serious, but he still stood firmly with the Chinese team.

What else could he do? Though he was Spanish, he worked for China’s team.

“They’ll pay for that stolen penalty—I promise you, Tom!”

Ma Di said: “That penalty only affected the process, not the outcome.”

“…”

After this exchange, Tang Ye’s mood finally improved a little.

He shook his head, ate a banana to reset, then asked Ma Di for his first-half movement stats.

6.5 km.

Honestly, that’s a bit much—but as long as we don’t go to extra time, my stamina’s fine.

His mood shifted fast; once his focus returned to the match, Tang Ye stood up, adjusting his jersey: “Come on, brothers.”

“Come on!”

“By the way, I have a feeling Rodri might drop back to defensive midfield in the second half.”

Tang Ye suddenly looked at Escrivà—his words lit up the coach’s eyes.

Rodri dropping back to defensive midfield… he hadn’t considered that.

“How confident are you?”

“Can’t say for sure… but I think it’s pretty likely.”

Tang Ye pointed his thumb toward the locker room door: “Busquets and Gavi played terribly today—I feel Rodri will ask the coach to switch positions.”

“…”

Escrivà narrowed his eyes, his mind racing.

…

“China Central Television, welcome back, viewers! Here is…”

“Spain’s substitution: Morata replaces Asensio!”

After Morata came on, Rodri stepped forward to hand him the captain’s armband—but Morata refused.

Rodri’s been in excellent form today; letting him remain captain should benefit Spain.

“China’s substitution: Fernando replaces Zhang Xizhe!”

“Keeping Wei Shihao while bringing on Fernando—China’s substitution is extremely aggressive!”

Yes, I feel China is looking to create opportunities. If I were China's coach, hehe, I'd tell the players to exploit the opponent's mistakes. But it's hard to say—it depends on how Spain's defenders perform in the second half.

“espaol!”

“espaol!”

Morata’s entrance boosted Spanish fans’ confidence—he’s Spain’s true starting striker!

“…”

“!”

“Here!”

Tang Ye accelerated forward, raising his right hand for the ball, ready to receive Zhang Yuning’s through pass.

Thud!

“Beeeep!”

Yellow card: Busquets (SPN).

On screen: Tang Ye, fist clenched, pounding the grass; the referee showed Busquets the yellow card for pulling.

This moment was pure classic.

“So far in this World Cup, China has played four matches. In all four, all six midfielders who marked Tang Ye received yellow cards—no exceptions.”

The referee and fans synced up with this amusing stat.

Whenever Tang Ye’s on the pitch, your defensive midfielder better start with a yellow card already.

“You idiot, stop pulling him, will you?”

“F*** you!”

“Just play the game!”

“Booooo!”

Busquets, unsurprisingly, got roasted.

Tang Ye was pulled up, gave his teammate a thumbs-up: “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

55th minute.

The score is still 1-1, but Escrivà’s expression wasn’t good.

It was clear Tang Ye was growing impatient—his ball progression grew faster, sometimes leaving teammates behind.

But this style had its upside: Spain’s defenders were getting brain damage.

Thud!

Tang Ye cut the ball with his right foot, moved centrally, leaving Pedri behind.

Knowing Busquets already had a yellow, Tang Ye accelerated directly, using his physical advantage to overpower the second defender, then passed to Fernando.

“Look ahead!”

Fernando passed to Wei Shihao.

“Wow!!!”

Escrivà’s substitutions were paying off—Wei Shihao, Fernando, and Wang Shanchao all had strong attacking traits; their combined runs down the flanks created real depth for China’s offense.

Llorente scrambled helplessly; Fernando held the ball, Wei Shihao surged forward.

Slap!

Cross to the back post—Wu Lei!

“Wow!!!”

Jump!

Thud!

Wu Lei collided with Laporte.

Wu Lei lost the aerial duel, but Spain didn’t immediately regain possession.

As the ball rolled toward the corner flag, Wu Xi sprinted over.

“Brilliant, Wu Xi!”

“China got the ball before it went out—recycle it quickly.”

“Oh, Tang Ye!”

Tang Ye suddenly accelerated through the gap between Morata and Gavi, easily securing the ball.

He stopped, preparing to find a passing option—when suddenly, a strange force slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

“Beeeep!”

It was a foul by Gavi—but the referee gave no yellow card, only a verbal warning.

【Damn, this is disgusting—playing like this? Afraid your midfielders will all get yellow cards later?】

【Spain’s midfield is packed—so what? But this is really frustrating to play against.】

【Where’s Hao Ge! Take Gavi down with you! Don’t let him keep fouling!】

【6666, my suggestion: Wei Shihao stays right next to Tang Ye and doesn’t move.】

【Esheng, go for it! If you win this, I’ll spend the rest of my life cursing Ten Hag for you!】

The fans understood exactly what Escrivà needed.

Help him fight Ten Hag—yes, that’s exactly what the Spanish needed.

Too bad he couldn’t see the Douyu live comments—if he could, he’d be crying tears of emotion.

67th minute of the second half.

After making his second substitution, Spain improved their field situation; Unai Simón launched a precise long ball to Olmo.

Olmo controlled the aerial pass easily, then laid it off to Morata.

“Left side!”

Wang Dalei warned, and Jiang Guangtao immediately went to mark Torres.

Snap!

Morata passed to Torres; as teammates and defenders clashed, he circled around from behind and moved to a position further right.

Torres passed the ball, then cut inside.

!!

Jiang Guangtao was now in trouble—he had to choose one of the two attacking players to mark.

Jiang Guangtao chose Torres.

Torres’s choice was to pass to Morata, who had just cut inside.

Snap!

Left-footed drive—the ball skimmed the left post and flew into the net.

“gooo——aaaa——llll！！！！”

“Goal… damn… ssshh…”

“Was that offside? Doesn’t look offside…”

The commentator seemed to ignore the strict requirement of neutrality, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Spain’s goal!

From the replay, there was no hint of offside.

Goal!

2:1!

“Roar——！！！”

Morata and Rodri roared at each other; substitutes in Spain’s jerseys rushed out of the bench.

“vamos!”

“vamos！！！！”

Live update: Torres played a through ball, Morata slotted it in—score now 1:2, China trailing.

Escribá’s face was blank, but his teeth were clenched, sweat drenched his body, and his heartbeat quickened.

Spain’s comeback…

It had finally come!

“Hold firm—if we hold firm, we can still win!”