Chapter Eighty-Six: The Divine Artifact

At night, in the dormitory, Zheng Ni stared at Juno, following her with her eyes wherever she went, until Juno began to feel a little ill at ease.

"What are you looking at?" Juno asked.

"I'm trying to figure out whether you're doing it on purpose. A couple of days ago Rousseau was riding around with that beauty from Harbor City, and today you go and produce some business elite. What exactly are you two doing? It looked to me like a pair of kindergarteners in the senior class were falling in love—two rookies pecking at each other, utterly lacking in any aesthetic appeal..."

As Zheng Ni spoke, Juno's expression had already turned dangerous. Before she could finish, Juno lunged at her with a ferocious snarl.

"Who are you calling a rookie? Who's pecking at who? Today I'll peck you, you little brat!"

Zheng Ni started crying for help.

After several hundred unprintable words, Zheng Ni looked flushed and dreamy, panting hard before finally catching her breath.

"I wasn't doing it on purpose," Juno said, with better stamina. "You think I can see the future or something? How could I be that accurate? It just so happened that you saw us. You know my dad's been on my case for ages, almost to the point of coming to the sports institute with rope to tie me up. What was I supposed to do? It was just too much of a coincidence."

"Who has time to bother with you two~" Zheng Ni said lazily. "Didn't you see Rousseau's expression?"

"What expression?" Juno asked curiously.

"No expression at all," Zheng Ni said. "A headless fool and a sulky fool falling in love—technically, it was ugly beyond belief..."

Hm? Juno stared at her. "Who's the headless fool?"

"You," Zheng Ni said.

"Why am I the headless fool?" Juno pretended to lunge toward Zheng Ni's bed.

"Fine, fine, you're the sulky one... that damned competitive streak of yours." Zheng Ni hurriedly surrendered. "Seriously, how far have you and Rousseau gotten?"

How far... Juno thought back. "The day I finished my race, we were walking around the old streets of Macao. Rousseau seemed like he wanted to hold my hand, but he didn't manage it."

"That pure? My God~" Zheng Ni exclaimed. "I'm even starting to wonder whether you'll be able to have kids after you two get married someday~"

"That kind of thing definitely has to be learned," Juno said a little unconvinced. "No one is born knowing it."

"Then what exactly are you thinking? Honestly, I think Rousseau is a little passive. First, he's basically a block of wood when it comes to feelings. Second, I think he's a bit sensitive—he's an orphan, and your family is so rich, so he probably doesn't dare to be too forward..."

"So I think the key to this matter lies with you. If you have any feelings at all, give him a chance. Otherwise, it's going to be very hard for you two to go any further." Zheng Ni said.

Juno began to think.

"Still, whoever marries Rousseau will be incredibly lucky. Do you know how delicious his cooking is? And look at him—he earns money and doesn't spend a penny, just goes and buys a house. What a good homemaker. And his personality—quiet and stubborn—but he's very gentle with his younger sister. He'll definitely be one of those husbands who dotes on his wife.

"Especially since he's handsome too. Having a baby with him would definitely make for a beautiful child. Ah, if only he liked me... Xiaonuo, I don't mean to steal him from you." Zheng Ni quickly clarified.

...

October seventeenth.

The second day of Rousseau's official return to training.

If the point was to prepare for the twentieth's Pengcheng University Games, it would be a bit like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. True, the track is a battlefield, and every race must be run with everything one has, but when racing a bunch of college students, it was hard to be solemn about it...

In any case, Lu Jinrong still arranged a race-style training session for Rousseau.

Rousseau, meanwhile, combined "acceleration," "explosion," and the "Glass Crown" to show the coach and athletes of Pengcheng Sports Institute's sprint team what world-class speed really looked like.

Two hundred meters in 20.60 seconds. The team's fastest 200-meter runner was left nearly a full second behind.

One hundred meters in 10.38 seconds. Tian Shiwei had originally thought he could show off a little, only to be crushed by Rousseau again.

After the hundred-meter run, Tian Shiwei looked at his own 10.45-second result and let out a long sigh. It was already very fast; since Rousseau had joined the provincial team, Tian Shiwei's times had improved dramatically as well.

Three months ago, he would never have imagined that he could casually run under 10.50.

And yet why did it still feel so unwilling to accept it... Tian Shiwei wondered, somehow feeling as if the title of "eternal runner-up" had been slapped onto his forehead.

...

"Excellent!"

Lu Jinrong praised Rousseau. Apart from those words, he wasn't even sure what else he could say. Or perhaps, to put it plainly, his professional knowledge could no longer keep up with Rousseau's current progress.

"Your style of running, the one called 'Meteor,' does it hurt your body?" Lu Jinrong asked.

"No, I kept it under control," Rousseau said. To avoid the curse of injury from the Glass Crown, he always held something back. "Mainly I wanted to test the technique. Coach, when I start the hundred meters, isn't my acceleration still a little slow?"

Combining "acceleration" and "explosion" creates "Meteor."

When using this style in the 200 meters, the key point was something Dong Zijian had reminded Rousseau of: when exiting the curve and entering the explosive rhythm, keeping the stride frequency steady, with acceleration and explosion acting together on Rousseau's balanced state—then "Meteor" emerged.

Its defining trait was a near-loss-of-control posture, throwing everything forward.

Using Meteor in the 100 meters was something Rousseau had long envisioned, and only now put into practice.

Compared with the 200 meters, the acceleration phase occupies a longer proportion in the 100, and the moment of entering a more stable stride frequency—that is, the transition into the middle phase of the race—was also the moment Rousseau activated "explosion." The result was the 10.38-second performance.

It matched Zhang Zhen, and was still slower than "Glasses Superman" Pan Kai.

Rousseau wanted to be the best in the country at the 100 meters. Being slower than others was unacceptable.

"You're this tall, so your acceleration is bound to be a little slower. Still, that's already excellent," Lu Jinrong said. "What amazes me is your start—how did you train it? It's made a huge leap all of a sudden."

Exactly.

The Glass Crown had brought Rousseau's start into the 0.15-second range, which was 0.05 seconds faster than before. Don't underestimate that 0.05 seconds; it takes years and years of training for the body to make even such a tiny improvement in reaction.

"And the leap isn't just in the start~" Rousseau answered with a smile.

There was also the consumption.

Now, when Rousseau wore the Glass Crown, whether he used "acceleration" or "explosion," the stamina cost was greatly reduced. The consumption for "acceleration" had dropped to 0.3 points per minute, while "explosion" required only 5 points of stamina.

This was the ideal balanced state Rousseau would eventually reach at the peak of his technique, where his mastery of both body and skill came into perfect harmony. It was nothing short of art.

The Glass Crown was truly a divine artifact.

Clearly, Lu Jinrong could no longer give Rousseau much more guidance.

That was not because Lu Jinrong was unskilled. It was just that the best he had ever run himself was in the 10.50 range, and the athletes he had trained or observed were not even as good as the coach had been in his own prime. So his present guidance came only from experience.

But Rousseau's current condition was too special.

Even the country's top coaching team, made up of Li Yan and Dong Zijian, would have to study, compare, analyze, and judge before offering truly targeted advice. Lu Jinrong did not have that kind of accumulated knowledge, nor that depth of perspective.

During the noon break, Rousseau took out his newly purchased phone—a cheaper model; the one Lu Xiaoyu had was more expensive.

After thinking for a while, he still did not call Dong Zijian.

Forget it.

He would train on his own first.