Chapter Sixty-Three: The Price

The status bar had warned that when stamina fell below 50, the risk of injury increased. But it didn’t mean injury was guaranteed. Rousseau could easily let his stamina drop to 30, or even lower—as long as he didn’t collapse, he could keep running.

Moreover, during his experiments combining the two techniques, Rousseau discovered that it wasn’t necessary to actually use the “Burst” technique every time. Through repeated acceleration drills, he’d begun to gain a sense and understanding of how to adjust stride frequency and length to meet the requirements for using “Burst.” He could first practice this component, and only employ “Burst” when he felt confident he’d grasped the basics.

This approach conserved even more stamina. Calculating it this way, with just 25 points of stamina, he could practice many more times.

Rousseau was warming up at the start of the 200-meter curve, waiting for Tian Shiwei.

Tian Shiwei sighed helplessly and took off his tracksuit, leaving only shorts and a vest. He immediately felt the cold of the northern night and began hopping and stretching as he made his way to the starting line.

“Old Tian, if I really win the 200-meter gold at the Dongqing Games, half the credit will be yours,” Rousseau said sincerely.

“You still have the energy to flatter me at a time like this. You’re quite something,” Tian Shiwei replied with a sigh.

“Let’s begin.”

Rousseau waved at Dong Zijian.

And so—

Start.

Take the curve.

Adjust stride frequency and length.

Finish.

Then start again, take the curve again, adjust again, finish again.

Each training run lasted less than a minute, but Rousseau would spend much longer between runs thinking things over, recalling his movements in his mind, analyzing where things went wrong, and pondering where he could improve.

Rousseau was beginning to understand what Lu Jinrong always said: “Run with your head.”

…

That night.

When Rousseau returned to the dorm, it was ten o’clock.

His stamina was down to “29/100”—an unprecedented number. He collapsed onto his bed, too exhausted even to wash up, and fell into a deep sleep at once.

Tian Shiwei, who’d only been accompanying him without putting in as much effort, wasn’t actually tired. Watching Rousseau now, Tian Shiwei felt a complicated mix of sympathy and heartache. It was obvious Rousseau was under immense pressure; if their roles were reversed, Tian Shiwei doubted he could have lasted this long.

But… he had to keep going.

Tian Shiwei silently cheered Rousseau on. He couldn’t let that guy Li Yan win.

…

October 25.

When Rousseau woke, he was not in good condition. His stamina was at “79/100.” Clearly, he’d pushed himself too hard yesterday for his body to recover fully. But overall, if he calculated his stamina consumption, Rousseau was still on the positive side.

With no one to run with him during the day, Rousseau borrowed the AV room from Dong Zijian. Besides watching his own videos, he found recordings of American stars Gatlin and Johnson, Greek champion Konstantin, Jamaican great Powell, and others.

These world-class 200-meter specialists opened a window for Rousseau. For the first time, he had a reference point to understand the differences between himself and others in the sprinting world.

In the afternoon, after his stamina climbed back above 80, Rousseau began practicing high knees, butt kicks, and other basic drills. This was to maintain his athletic form, keep his body from stiffening, and further ingrain the body’s instinctive responses to movement.

These foundational exercises were the part Rousseau always thought he did best, since the status bar monitored and reminded him at every moment, and Rousseau constantly corrected himself.

But now he was plagued by doubt. Watching those champions run, he saw that their forms differed, as did their optimal stride length and frequency.

The status bar had always guided Rousseau to perfect his own posture, but was this truly the most suitable and correct technique for him? Now that he needed to alter his stride length and frequency to adapt to the combination of two techniques, did these basic drills also need adjustment?

The status bar gave no response—it never did.

Rousseau had no better answer. He could only keep practicing.

That night, he trained again.

By bedtime, his stamina was once more below 30.

…

October 26.

Three days left before departure for the Dongqing Games.

According to Tian Shiwei, other teams training at the central bureau had already announced their athlete lists—generally on the 23rd, a week before the games, or at the latest the 25th, five days before. There were administrative procedures to complete—booking flights, reserving rooms, preparing athletes physically and mentally. Only the sprint team had delayed announcing its list this long, waiting until just three days before the event.

So that evening, while accompanying Rousseau for extra training, Tian Shiwei made a special point of mentioning it.

Dong Zijian was also present—every night Rousseau had these late training sessions with Tian Shiwei, Dong Zijian was there. As their life coach, Dong Zijian surely had plenty to do, but he still spent an hour with Rousseau each night, a sign of how deeply he cared about Rousseau. Tian Shiwei saw this as a good thing.

“There are only six on the sprint team,” Rousseau said, “At least five have to go.”

“Then they should just take you!” Tian Shiwei blurted out, glancing at Dong Zijian.

At this point, even Tian Shiwei felt anxious for Rousseau. Li Yan’s refusal to publish the lineup was almost malicious—he kept Rousseau, the only “unofficial” member of the sprint team, hanging in limbo, neither included nor excluded.

If Tian Shiwei were in Rousseau’s place, he would have given up long ago—the pressure was just too much!

This state of uncertainty, being forced to achieve better and better results just to convince the coach, was like living in hell. It could only be the idea of a devil like Li Yan.

And everyone on the sprint team believed Li Yan was capable of cutting Rousseau from the team the day before the competition, sending the others off to Macao for the Dongqing Games while Rousseau quietly packed his bags and went home.

Just imagining the scene made Tian Shiwei burn with indignation for Rousseau.

Yet Rousseau, under such pressure, was still fighting for every chance, still training with everything he had—and that earned Tian Shiwei’s admiration.

At Tian Shiwei’s pointed words, Dong Zijian made no comment. He’d always been kind to Rousseau, but he wasn’t the head coach and had no say in the matter. Tian Shiwei’s remark was not his to answer.

“Let’s get started,” Rousseau said to Tian Shiwei.

“If I used to have a friendly impression of you, now I truly respect you, Old Lu. You’re really something,” Tian Shiwei praised.

“I just want to win,” Rousseau replied, speaking as much to himself as to the others. He was acutely aware that both his mind and body had been pushed to their limits; all that remained was his obsession with victory.

Because here, in this arena, he had nothing. Victory was the only thing he could grasp.

Rousseau signaled to Dong Zijian.

Let’s begin!

Once again, he charged toward the only victory left in his life.

Rousseau was willing to burn everything he had for this win, and for the next, and for every victory thereafter.

Dong Zijian blew the whistle.

Rousseau and Tian Shiwei shot off from the starting line together. The stadium’s floodlights split the darkness and merged with it; within the beams of light, Rousseau’s figure seemed to radiate an indomitable glow, shimmering in the night.

…

That night.

Rousseau had to be supported back to the dorm by Tian Shiwei.

His stamina loss was especially severe this time.

By the time they reached the dorm, his stamina was down to “24/100.”