Chapter Sixty-Eight: Pre-Competition Interview

On the night of the 29th, Kanya Tsuchie, head coach of Japan’s athletics team, was studying the athlete profiles sent by the event organizing committee. The information from the mainland had arrived the latest. Other countries, such as Kazakhstan, had submitted their athletes’ profiles well in advance, and Tsuchie had received them long ago. The mainland’s profiles, however, only arrived that evening. With the opening ceremony scheduled for tomorrow and the 100-meter heats and finals taking place on the first, the timing was rather late.

“It’s one of the advantages of being the host country… but is this some kind of tactic?” Assistant coach Fumi Morishige wondered aloud, though he couldn’t quite see what sort of strategy this might be. The mainland’s reputation in sprinting was notoriously poor; only a few athletes from their team were listed as major competitors for Japan’s sprint squad. Of those eligible for the East Asian Youth Games, only one stood out: Zhang Zhen, a promising hundred-meter runner.

Examining the list, Tsuchie found nothing unusual. He was familiar with Zhang Zhen and had heard of the others. The only variables seemed to be those named Tian Shiwei and Rousseau.

“Quickly check the profiles of these two,” Tsuchie instructed, pointing to their names.

“Yes,” Morishige replied, immediately searching for information using a Chinese search engine. By the 2000s, the internet age had fully arrived, and the country’s rapid digital development meant that most news rarely escaped the confines of a search bar.

“Li Yan is a tough opponent. We’ve crossed paths many times; I’ve lost more than I’ve won,” Tsuchie explained, underscoring his respect for the mainland team.

Thinking further, Tsuchie added, “As a coach with an outstanding record, Li Yan’s decision to accept a posting here surprised many—starting from scratch in a country known for its utilitarian sports philosophy is unusual for him. Something must have truly moved him.”

“Perhaps the mainland offered enough compensation?” Morishige suggested. By then, results had appeared on his computer screen. “Coach, I’ve found the information.”

Since Tsuchie didn’t know Chinese, Morishige translated for him. When Morishige read aloud, “Rousseau can be compared to Pan Kai as the twin stars of the athletics era,” Tsuchie’s expression grew grave. Pan Kai was the top name on Japan’s list of competitors from that country. However, Pan Kai was absent from this East Asian Youth Games due to age restrictions.

Could Rousseau really be comparable to Pan Kai?

Morishige continued, “Rousseau broke a twenty-year record in Southern Guangdong Province with a time of 10.49 seconds, heralding a new era.” Tsuchie began to doubt his ears.

“How much? What’s Rousseau’s hundred-meter time?” Tsuchie asked.

“10.49 seconds,” Morishige replied.

“You’re sure you didn’t misread?” Tsuchie pressed.

“No mistake. The other athlete, named Tian Shiwei, ran the hundred meters in 10.50 seconds, achieved a month ago at the Southern Guangdong Provincial Games,” Morishige double-checked before answering.

The two Japanese coaches fell silent—not because they were impressed, but rather because the times were… quite modest. They might scrape into the finals, but championship hopes were out of the question.

“How could such athletes be compared to Pan Kai?” Tsuchie wondered. “Who wrote this article?”

“Chief sports editor of Southern Guangdong Daily… Guan Zhaoyue,” Morishige answered.

“The embellishments of a literary journalist,” Tsuchie sighed. “We’ve wasted half an hour.”

...

Guan Zhaoyue, chief sports editor of Southern Guangdong Daily, sneezed. Intern sports reporter Shen Yingying handed him a tissue. The two had just arrived in Macau.

It was already eleven at night. Their red-eye flight was necessitated by the limited budget allocated to the sports section, and within the newspaper office, most saw this trip to the East Asian Youth Games as unnecessary.

Wasn’t it just two sprint athletes from Southern Guangdong joining the national team as substitutes? If every athlete from Southern Guangdong required cross-provincial—or even cross-national—coverage, the sports editor would be living quite comfortably, flying all over the map every day. Could the paper’s budget sustain such extravagance?

“Mr. Guan, if this interview yields nothing worthwhile, what will we say when we get back?” Shen Yingying sighed. When she applied for leave and funding, she endured countless scornful looks from logistics and accounting, feeling immense pressure.

“How could there be no good stories?” Guan Zhaoyue smiled. “I believe Southern Guangdong will produce one or two leaders in sports; our coverage must start from now. We mustn’t let any seed slip by.”

The ideal was noble, but the expense would come out of the paper’s budget—and her bonus… Shen Yingying sighed again.

...

The next day—on the 30th—Rousseau skipped the opening ceremony, preferring to conserve his energy and rest.

A little later, he received a phone call in his room from Lu Jinrong, who had arrived, accompanied by Chief Editor Guan Zhaoyue. They wanted to arrange an interview with Rousseau.

A chat wouldn’t drain his energy.

Later, Rousseau met Lu Jinrong, Guan Zhaoyue, and the familiar intern reporter Shen Yingying in the hotel café.

“Rousseau, you’re about to compete at the East Asian Youth Games. What event are you entering? Are you confident? What’s your goal?” Guan Zhaoyue asked, as Shen Yingying took notes.

“I’ll be running the 200 meters. My goal is gold. As for confidence… seventy to eighty percent,” Rousseau replied.

Hm?

The three of them looked up at Rousseau, wondering if he was joking.

Rousseau nodded, indicating his seriousness.

“What’s your current 200-meter time?” Guan Zhaoyue, now interested, pressed further.

“My last run at the national training center was 20.73 seconds, but I wasn’t at my best then. I’ll be faster in the official race,” Rousseau said.

“20.73 seconds?!” Lu Jinrong and Guan Zhaoyue repeated the number. It was earth-shattering, yet Rousseau spoke so casually, the contrast making them suspect he was joking.

“20.73… is that fast?” Shen Yingying whispered.

“The East Asian Youth Games 200-meter record is 20.65,” Guan Zhaoyue explained. “20.73 is enough to contend for the 200-meter title…”

Ah… Shen Yingying’s expression turned to surprise.

Guan Zhaoyue continued, “Since the first East Asian Youth Games in 1993, our country has never won the 200 meters.”

Ah, ah… Shen Yingying looked at Rousseau with near awe, as if she had spotted a giant panda at a pet store.

“Amazing!” Guan Zhaoyue exclaimed, slapping the table. “Old Lu, you’ve trained a fine pupil! I must write a proper article about this!”