The following morning, Kai drove quietly to the training ground.
It was officially the off-season, and the place was almost deserted.
He headed into the changing room, got into his training kit, and as he stepped out, he was surprised to see Pat standing by the entrance.
"You didn't take the day off?" Kai asked, raising an eyebrow.
Pat waved him over impatiently. "Not now. Let's go—training waits for no one!"
Kai nodded and fell in beside him.
Pat, long admired and respected, was getting older. With his heart issues, nobody could say how much longer he'd be on the pitch in any capacity. But if there was one thing he was set on, it was seeing Kai fulfill the potential he believed was hiding in plain sight.
Time was tight, but Pat was determined to make it count.
"Warm up first. A few laps around the cones. Then we'll hit flexibility."
Kai nodded again and jogged off to start.
Two months away from regular match intensity had taken its toll. Although he'd kept up some basic conditioning, it was clear now how much he'd lost. His touch was rusty, his footwork less tight. But muscle memory kicked in, and soon enough, he found his rhythm again.
Afterwards, Pat dragged him into the gym for mobility drills.
Kai gritted his teeth as his body was pushed through unfamiliar ranges. "Bloody hell," he muttered through a grimace.
Pat, meanwhile, stood to the side, arms crossed, his tone shifting between instructive and stern.
"Last season, I noticed something—you're wasting energy. Too many unnecessary runs."
"Especially those late bursts into the final third," he added.
Kai shot him a look. "That's how I add weight going forward!"
"Yes, but most of the time, you end up parked just outside their box doing nothing. You'd be far more useful sitting a few yards deeper and staying in the play."
Kai blinked, then muttered, "Yeah, but I can't shoot from a distance."
Pat gave a sharp nod. "That's your next lesson. Long-range shots. Left foot, right foot, different angles. We're building this into your game, and when the season starts, Wenger's going to give you the green light."
Kai's eyes widened. "For real?"
Pat smirked. "Don't get carried away."
Both Pat and Wenger shared a vision—not to mold Kai into another Vieira, but into something more versatile. A complete box-to-box midfielder. More dynamic. More unpredictable. Maybe even on par with someone like Yaya Touré.
But first, they had to plug the gaps in his game: composure, spatial awareness, long shots, and ball retention. The raw talent was there. What he needed now was polishing.
"By the way," Pat added, just as Kai wiped sweat off his brow, "The club's got a pretty big decision for you in a couple of days."
Kai perked up. "A pay bump?"
Pat shot him a look. "You've already had your contract adjusted three times this year. Cool it."
Kai chuckled. "Alright, alright. So what is it then?"
Pat grinned. "You'll find out soon enough."
Two days later, Arsenal's official website dropped a bombshell:
"From this season, Arsenal Football Club confirms the appointment of three team captains."
Club Captain: Thomas Vermaelen
Third Captain: Mikel Arteta
"Together, they'll carry the weight of our badge and lead us back toward glory."
The football world was stunned.
Arsenal had done it again—another teenage captain.
When Fabregas had been handed the armband at 21, it was considered bold. But this? A 19-year-old as vice-captain?
Across England—and even in Europe—people were caught off guard. And yet, as the initial shock wore off, acceptance came quickly.
Because this was Kai. Because it was Arsenal.
Wenger had called him personally with the news. Kai barely processed the words. The phone call had felt surreal.
"Vice-captain… Arsenal?"
The title sat heavily on his chest. Not in a burdensome way—but in a way that made everything feel more real.
No one objected to the decision, not within the team and not among the fans.
If anything, it felt overdue.
Kai had demonstrated leadership in ways that couldn't be coached: showing up in big moments, demanding more of himself, and lifting others through his attitude on and off the pitch.
In many ways, he was already the team's heartbeat.
The players on holiday took to social media:
"Not surprised one bit. Born to lead. Congrats, Kai."
"Armband or not, he's been leading us since day one. Big future ahead."
"Wait—he's vice-captain now? Fair enough. Deserved."
"Don't let the age fool you. He's been setting the standard all season."
The news spread rapidly back home in China. The announcement stunned domestic fans and media alike.
Wang Yi had long been regarded as the national poster boy—key to PSG's depth, though not central to their project.
But now? Kai had blown that narrative wide open.
In just a year, he had gone from unknown to Arsenal's vice-captain. And not just any club—a Premier League giant.
It was more than symbolic. It was a power shift.
Chinese fans were electrified. While others had worn the captain's armband briefly, few had shown the signs of keeping it.
And even those who once dismissed the hype surrounding Kai had to admit—it wasn't hot air. This time, the reports were true.
At Oak Bar in North London, a familiar voice chuckled over a pint.
Meadows looked up from his phone. "Wenger's made a bold but brilliant call."
Billy, seated beside him with a beer, gave a knowing nod.
"People'll always talk about age, but sometimes youth brings the bite a team needs. If he can manage the room—and it looks like he already does—then what's the problem?"
Meadows, shining a few glasses behind the counter, replied. "Exactly. There's gossip, sure. Some say he rose through grit, others that Wenger handed him a ladder. Either way—he's earned it."
They didn't know exactly what kind of captain Kai would become.
But they agreed on one thing: Arsenal had just made a smart move.