Chapter Seventy-Six: The First in the Nation

After Rousseau crossed the finish line, he ran dozens of meters further than usual before his speed finally slowed. Immediately, a sharp, tearing pain in the inside of his thigh drew his attention, but it didn’t seem too serious—surely just a strained muscle. He jogged along at a leisurely pace, shifting focus from the ache in his leg to his eyes and ears. As he looked around, he had the illusion of facing mountains and seas, the mountains shouting, the seas roaring—the mountains and seas formed by the audience, all congratulating him.

In that moment, Rousseau felt as if he stood atop the peaks and the waves, savoring the true taste of victory. He raised his hand and waved to his mountains and seas, and the gesture brought forth an even greater cheer. Someone—probably Dong Zijian—draped a national flag over Rousseau’s shoulders and gave him a firm pat, urging him to run a little further.

As the crowd saw Rousseau running with the five-starred red flag on his back, the applause from nearly ten thousand spectators grew thunderous. All were swept into a collective frenzy of celebration and pride, some with tears sparkling in their eyes, their chests overflowing with searing pride and honor.

A child of Huaxia should indeed stand atop the world!

Rousseau jogged slowly toward one of the cameras. Wrapped in the national flag, he became the focal point of all attention. He set his gaze on the camera lens, as if looking through to the little girl at home, who must be crying with joy before the television.

Lu Xiaoyu, I did it.

He imagined himself waving to Lu Xiaoyu, then turned to jog back. In Rousseau’s eyes, the Dongqing Stadium was now filled with flowers and glory, an image he would never forget in his life.

Soon, even louder applause erupted, signaling another crest in the atmosphere. Someone was shouting something, but Rousseau didn’t catch it. As he returned to the track, he saw Dong Zijian dashing toward him, shouting excitedly, “You broke the record! You broke the record! Rousseau, you broke the record!”

What?

Rousseau turned his gaze to the giant screen in the stadium.

There, the results of the 200-meter final were displayed:

‘No. 0815, Rousseau, 20.58 seconds
No. 1681, Masafumi Fujiwara, 20.65 seconds
…’

The Dongqing Games 200-meter record stood at 20.65 seconds. Rousseau’s 20.58 had broken the record by a wide margin. Of course, Masafumi Fujiwara from Japan had matched the old record, but at this moment, who cared about second place? This record-breaking performance sent the stadium into another wave of wild celebration.

Rousseau, meanwhile, made a curious gesture, reaching out his hand to feel the wind in the air. At the edge of the field, Li Yan did the same.

…

On the live broadcast from Ao City TV, the commentator had to keep sipping water to soothe his hoarse throat, strained from shouting too hard. The expert analyst kept repeating just three words: “Incredible.”

“Truly incredible, a stunning result, absolutely incredible, just outstanding.”

The expert’s expectations had been completely overturned; his predictions had failed entirely. Rousseau had taken first place in the 200 meters with a record-breaking time—utterly beyond expectation.

“Can you comment on the significance of Rousseau’s victory?” the commentator guided the conversation.

“I can only call it earth-shattering,” the expert replied. “Right now in our country, running the 200 meters in under 21 seconds is already considered excellent. To run in the 20.60 range—so far as I know, we’ve never had anyone do that.”

“Never?” The commentator was clearly astonished. “So does that mean Rousseau is now the fastest man in the country at 200 meters?”

“For the moment, yes,” the expert replied. “Which is why I think it’s so remarkable. Before today, I’d never even heard of this athlete; he seemed to appear out of nowhere, like a bolt from the blue. It’s astonishing.”

“If Rousseau is the best in the country at 200 meters, how does he compare internationally?” the commentator pressed on.

“Well…” The expert’s face, bright with excitement, fell slightly, and he gave a wry smile. “Let me give you a figure: at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, American Michael Johnson ran the 200 meters in 19.32 seconds. These days, to be internationally competitive in the 200 meters, you have to run 20.20 or even 20.10 seconds or better.”

Rousseau’s 20.60 made him the best in the country, but to compete on the world stage, he would need to break 20.20.

Never before had the commentator so deeply understood why domestic sprinting was said to lag behind the international level.

“Regardless, we can look forward to Rousseau’s future. After all, he’s only had three months of professional training. We can imagine what lies ahead—he’s sure to bring new hope to our nation’s track and field!”

“The medal ceremony is about to begin. We see Rousseau on the podium—looks like the Japanese runner, Masafumi Fujiwara, is helping him up…”

…

“Thank you,” Rousseau said, patting Masafumi Fujiwara on the shoulder.

Climbing the podium had aggravated the pain in his thigh, and he almost fell.

“You are very strong, and I admire you!” Masafumi Fujiwara said.

Rousseau didn’t understand the words, but he smiled and nodded anyway. On the track, they were rivals; off it, there was no need for animosity—especially since he had won.

This wasn’t his first time on the podium, but the feeling was as exhilarating as ever. The taste of victory never grew old.

A short distance away, Dong Zijian watched Rousseau with a hint of regret. The organizing committee had just announced that today’s wind speed was 3.7 meters per second—a tailwind—exceeding the allowable wind speed for record-setting. Rousseau’s record-breaking run would not count.

Rousseau waved to Dong Zijian, signaling him not to mind. He wasn’t surprised—the status bar had only shown he’d won, not that he’d broken the Dongqing Games record.

Another gold medal was hung around Rousseau’s neck.

The official presenting the medals shook Rousseau’s hand excitedly, repeating, “So talented at such a young age! So talented!”

After the ceremony, the national anthem resounded.

“Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves…”

Rousseau watched the five-starred red flag rise, quietly mouthing the solemn, stirring anthem.

…

As Rousseau charged across the finish line in first place, Lu Jinrong and Guan Zhaoyue rose from their seats on the sidelines. Guan Zhaoyue exclaimed, “A silver saddle on a white horse, galloping like a falling star!”

…

As Rousseau paraded around the field, draped in the national flag and greeted by thunderous applause and cheers, Guan Zhaoyue marveled, “With the wind at his back, his steed speeds on, beholding all the blossoms of Chang’an in a single day!”

…

As Rousseau stood on the podium, gold medal around his neck, basking in glory, Guan Zhaoyue recited, “A great roc rises on the wind in a single day, soaring ninety thousand miles!”

…

“Must you keep spouting poetry? It’s enough to make my teeth ache,” Lu Jinrong couldn’t help but complain.