Chapter Sixty-Six: The Price of Victory
That morning.
The figure of Rousseau crossing the finish line would forever be immortalized through the DV camera in Dong Zijian’s hand, and through the tales passed on by coaches and athletes alike, becoming a legend within the national sports training base.
...
“20.73 seconds?!”
When Zhang Zhen heard from his roommate Zhao Liren about Rousseau’s latest 200-meter result, he could hardly believe he wasn’t dreaming.
How was this possible? That time was enough not just to place in the top three at the East Asian Youth Games—no, enough to contend for the championship in the 200 meters!
As far as Zhang Zhen knew, the two strongest Japanese athletes in the 200 meters had best recorded times of about 20.70 seconds. Though Rousseau was still short by 0.03, he was now in the realm of gold medal contention, brushing against the edge of glory.
“You must have misheard, right? How could that be?” Zhang Zhen pressed his roommate Zhao Liren.
“It’s true. Coach Dong even filmed it with a DV camera; no one could believe it, but Rousseau really ran that fast. Coach Li announced it on the spot—Rousseau can now be entered in the 200-meter roster for the East Asian Youth Games.” Zhao Liren relayed the news, still half in disbelief himself.
To witness the birth of a legend firsthand—what a rare treat amid the monotony of intense training; opportunities like this were few and far between.
“But Rousseau almost fainted,” Zhao Liren added.
“Fainted?” Zhang Zhen immediately asked. “Did he get injured?”
“No, it seems he just wasn’t in good shape—just exhausted,” Zhao Liren replied.
To run 20.73 seconds while not in good condition—what kind of superhuman was this? Zhang Zhen was stunned.
...
Rousseau found himself lying on the infirmary bed once again.
But this time, there was no IV drip.
And his treatment was entirely different.
Rousseau felt that before, when Dong Zijian looked at him, his gaze was part pity, part sympathy. Now, it was six parts astonishment, four parts concern.
Before, Dong Zijian had pitied Rousseau for his illness.
Now, his anxiety was also for Rousseau’s health.
Rousseau remembered how, once Li Yan had confirmed the result, he had calmly announced that Rousseau would be entered in the 200-meter sprint for the East Asian Youth Games.
At that moment, if Rousseau had had the nerve to turn on his heel and say, “I’m not going,” it would have been immensely satisfying—but there was no rush. Now that he knew what he was capable of, a bolder plan was beginning to take shape.
How bold this plan would prove depended on what kind of results Rousseau could achieve at the Games. It was something worth anticipating.
The feeling during that run—Rousseau finally understood what it was like to reign supreme on the track.
Wearing the “Glass Crown” bestowed by his stats panel, he had gained extraordinary athletic intuition and reflexes.
He could launch from the blocks in under 0.15 seconds.
He could adjust stride length and cadence coming out of the curve to perfectly trigger his “Burst” skill.
On the home straight, both “Acceleration” and “Burst” powered him all the way to the finish.
And Rousseau hadn’t even gone all out—partly because he was still ill, partly out of caution to avoid injury.
With the “Glass Crown,” he had to be careful not to get hurt.
Even so, he’d run in the 20.70 range—the very realm of champions in the Games’ 200-meter contest.
If he gave it his all, how fast could he really go? The thought thrilled him.
Once he recovered, he was determined to run a race with everything he had.
His illness was not severe.
Sure enough, after Dong Zijian finished talking with the doctor, he came over and said, “Rousseau, you still have a bit of a fever. You overexerted yourself and got dizzy, but it’s nothing serious. Rest up for a few days—you should be fully recovered by the time of the official competition.”
The official competition...
Rousseau glanced at Li Yan.
Li Yan gave him an encouraging smile, though to Rousseau, it felt like an old saying: a weasel wishing a chicken a happy new year—hardly well-intentioned.
“Yes, I have to compete, because I’m aiming for gold,” Rousseau said.
Dong Zijian also glanced at Li Yan.
Li Yan applauded softly, his face filled with genuine admiration. “Rousseau, you’re the most determined athlete I’ve seen in this country. I believe the sporting arena will not disappoint your indomitable will.”
“Am I now the fastest domestic athlete in the 200 meters?” Rousseau asked.
“With 20.73? Not quite. And this wasn’t an official race. You’ll need to break 20.60 in an official event to be the fastest in the country,” Dong Zijian replied.
Rousseau nodded.
He would become number one in the country—this was only the first step. The Glass Crown had allowed him to take a giant leap forward, but this was far from the end. The world record was much faster, far out of reach for now.
...
After leaving the infirmary.
“Submit the roster,” Li Yan said.
“The one with Rousseau’s name?” Dong Zijian asked, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, we have a lot to arrange. Our roster submission is already quite late; let’s hope it won’t affect the athletes’ competitions,” Li Yan replied.
“Coach, I have to say, holding off until today to submit the list—you really are... how should I put it, unflappable,” Dong Zijian said, half-mocking, half-admiring.
“It’s about maximizing return on investment—managing an athlete roster like a businessman is my secret to success,” Li Yan replied. “Maybe you want to try learning it?”
“No, I think I’ll keep my humanity,” Dong Zijian said.
Li Yan, stung by the barb, shrugged. Compared to victory, what good was humanity?
...
After the two coaches left.
Tian Shiwei clapped Rousseau on the shoulder.
He was speechless.
If there were any words to say, it would only be: “Incredible!”
Though he had accompanied Rousseau through his meteoric rise in the 200 meters, Tian Shiwei still had no idea how it had happened.
“Call the coach!” Tian Shiwei pulled out his phone and dialed Lu Jinrong, putting it on speaker.
As Lu Jinrong’s slightly raspy voice came through the receiver, Rousseau was struck by a sense of nostalgia.
Just a month ago, he’d still been at Pengcheng Sports College, training under Lu Jinrong, who had given him great freedom—he could run as he liked, with good friends like Tian Shiwei and Juno by his side, striving for victory together.
Back then, victory seemed as natural as the wind at their ears, always within reach.
But in just one month, the world had changed—or perhaps not. Rousseau smiled to himself; as long as he kept improving, the world would always be filled with flowers and smiles.
...
On October 28, Rousseau rested for a day.
He only did light exercise to keep from getting stiff. His reactions and physical sensitivity remained sharp.
He was almost fully recovered.
Rousseau knew his own body best.