Chapter Seven: Four False Starts

By the time Rousseau and Tian Shiwei finished their four rounds, it was nearly nine in the morning. The athletic field at Pengcheng Sports Institute was already lively with people exercising. This institute served as the provincial track and field team's training base, as well as a venue for athletes from other disciplines. Originally just a junior college, Pengcheng Sports Institute had, in recent years, received significant investments from the provincial sports commission for specialized facilities, attracting various provincial teams to train here.

Many of these professional athletes were still adolescents—boys and girls who, while pursuing their athletic training, also needed an academic education, conveniently provided on-site.

At this moment, the test run involving the two sprinters had drawn considerable attention—especially since the director of the provincial sports commission himself was acting as the starter, which was quite the spectacle.

Nearby, a group of long-legged girls were warming up. They were members of the high jump team, performing their routine fitness drills. Their actual training would take place inside the adjacent gymnasium. One girl, however, was not running; instead, she watched the previous trial runs with keen interest.

“Juno, what are you looking at? Enjoying the show?” called a female coach.

“That tall, dark guy false-started three times! I bet he'll do it again! Old Tian must be fuming!” The girl, with short hair and delicate features, grinned mischievously.

“Enough! Go warm up!” The coach tugged her by the ear, urging her to get moving.

As she walked away, Juno glanced back. This time, the starter’s pistol fired without the whistle sounding. Slightly disappointed, she wondered if he had finally managed a clean start, and the thought made her smile again.

“Juno, pick up the pace—you’re leading the team!” the coach shouted.

With a deer-like grace, Juno led the other high jumpers in a lap around the track. But after just a few strides, their coach was already gritting her teeth.

“Juno!” she barked. “Team rules forbid dyeing your hair, and you think hiding the color inside is clever?”

Busted—Juno realized she'd been found out. Of course she would be; she’d forgotten to tie her hair, and the fiery red streaks hidden within her black locks now blazed like a rose blooming in the morning sun, vibrant and fragrant even in the cold dawn.

“Coach, I’m sorry!” her voice rang out, drawing the attention of the two boys who had just finished their runs.

They saw the fleet-footed girl, long-limbed and agile like a small, nimble beast. Her thick hair bounced as she ran, flashes of red surging through the black as if her hair were a palette constantly shifting colors.

But this was only a brief interlude.

Now came the moment to check the results.

In the final round, Tian Shiwei clocked 11.60 seconds, while Rousseau recorded 11.85.

Tian Shiwei won again, as expected, but he felt stifled. Winning was normal, but his time was slower than his first run—a clear mistake. In front of the director, this was not just a missed opportunity to shine; it might be taken as a sign of poor mentality, easily affected by pressure.

Just you wait…! Tian Shiwei glared at Rousseau.

Rousseau was looking back at him. The prompt in his status bar read:

“You’ve lost again. When will you finally claim your first victory over Tian Shiwei—and earn that attribute point?”

Rousseau stared at the message, realizing its strange power. The numbers in his status bar merely reflected his condition, but these words seemed to shape reality. Was it a prophecy, or a script? In any case, it only appeared during competitions.

For the past few months, Rousseau had trained alone, so it hadn’t been triggered. It felt like a word game capable of influencing the real world…

So, whenever I finally beat Tian Shiwei, I’ll earn that attribute point?

Rousseau’s gaze softened as he looked at Tian Shiwei.

“Thank you~” Rousseau reached out to shake Tian’s hand. Though he’d lost this time, he was happy, convinced he’d win eventually.

“Tch!” Tian Shiwei ignored him, scoffing at Rousseau’s odd behavior, and walked away with a scowl.

“Four false starts—you really have a nerve!” Director Shen Peng scolded Rousseau, then turned to the coach. “Old Lu, you certainly have an eye for talent.”

…

Late, late, late!

Rousseau sped through traffic on his electric scooter, with Lu Xiaoyu in tow. Pengcheng Sports School was not far from the elementary school Lu Xiaoyu attended. The trials were always scheduled in the morning, and since Xiaoyu insisted on watching, Rousseau would take her to school only after his own training. Today, they’d been delayed, and despite hurrying, they arrived to find the school gates already closed.

“YEAH—no school today!” Lu Xiaoyu cheered.

“In your dreams!” Rousseau retorted, dismounting to beg the security guard to let them in.

This elementary school had a rule: if a student was late, their homeroom teacher had to come fetch them. The guard made a call, and soon, Lu Xiaoyu’s teacher—a middle-aged woman with graying hair—appeared before the siblings.

She didn’t simply let Xiaoyu in. With a serious expression, she addressed Rousseau: “Xiaoyu’s guardian, I had intended to speak with you this evening, but since you’re here now, let’s talk.”

Confused, Rousseau was ushered into the office. He told Lu Xiaoyu to go to class, but she sneakily followed and eavesdropped outside.

Inside, the teacher said, “There’s something I need to confirm with you.”

“Yes?” Rousseau replied. Though still just a youth himself, he’d attended many parent meetings for Xiaoyu, and had a developed sense of responsibility.

Looking at Rousseau’s still-young face, the teacher couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. So young, yet burdened with caring for his family—how much hardship there is in the world. Her tone softened.

“Some parents have reported that Xiaoyu is collecting ‘protection fees’ from classmates. Are you aware of this?”

…

Bang!

The door to Class 6, Section 2, flew open. The children, chatting idly, jumped and immediately sat up straight—only to relax again when they saw it was Lu Xiaoyu, not the teacher.

But this time, Xiaoyu didn’t return to her seat. With a stern face, she strode to the podium, stood there silently, and slowly scanned every face in the room, eyes wide and searching.

Any student who met her gaze—boy or girl, tall or short—felt a jolt of nerves, and the chatter gradually faded.

Soon, silence fell, thick and heavy as if the very air could be wrung for water.

Every child felt their hearts racing.

At last, Lu Xiaoyu spoke, her voice deliberate and certain:

“There’s a traitor among us!”