Chapter 94: The Center of the Stage

August 2004 had just come to an end, and though the Athens Olympics bore little connection to Rousseau, Liu Yu broke the Olympic world record in the 110-meter hurdles with a time of 12.91 seconds, claiming China's first men’s athletics gold medal. Unfortunately, Liu Yu failed to win the championship at the subsequent World Championships, settling for second place—but it was still the best result ever achieved by a Chinese male athlete there.

The 110-meter hurdles is a sprint event in track and field, overseen directly by the Athletics Management Center. In fact, Rousseau’s entry into the national team should have fallen under their purview as well, but with the newly instituted head coach management system, all sprint events except the 110-meter hurdles were assigned to Li Yan. Liu Yu presently wears the aura of mythology.

He was participating in the indoor 60-meter hurdles. Watching the throng of reporters crowding into the venue, many were at a loss as to what was happening; Tian Shiwei, eliminated and now idle, went to investigate and returned to Rousseau, astounded.

“Liu Yu is here!”

The influence of an Olympic champion was unmistakable. One only needed to look at the scene before Rousseau to understand.

“Liu Yu is set to compete in the European Indoor Athletics Cup in Germany in mid-December,” Lu Jinrong told Rousseau and Tian Shiwei. “The Athletics Management Center arranged this indoor invitational at the end of November to help Liu Yu find his competitive form, inviting many domestic 110-meter hurdle experts to race alongside him.”

“So this indoor invitational was organized because of Liu Yu?” Tian Shiwei asked in surprise.

“It had long been planned, but the timing was chosen for Liu Yu,” Lu Jinrong explained.

Such was the privilege of a world champion… Rousseau gazed at the tall figure in the midst of the crowd.

“Liu Yu is not only an Olympic champion, but also the world record holder in the 110-meter hurdles. If he could add a World Championship title, he would be the only athlete ever to achieve a Grand Slam in the high hurdles,” Lu Jinrong remarked with a hint of awe. “Number one in China, number one in the world—utterly unique.”

Not entirely unique; there’s me… my future self… Rousseau mused.

Liu Yu arrived and departed in haste, leaving the National Sports University gymnasium just after his event concluded around 15:00. His performance in the indoor 60-meter hurdles was 7.68 seconds—impressively strong, given the number of barriers, and only a second faster than Rousseau.

At 16:00, the 200 meters officially began. Perhaps Rousseau was inspired. He ran an indoor 200 meters in 20.85 seconds, improving the national indoor record by 0.10 seconds. As Rousseau slowly descended from the track, Lu Jinrong, overcome with excitement, embraced him.

Lu Jinrong was now hugging the dual record holder in both indoor and outdoor 200 meters in China. Of course, the record from the Eastern Youth Games wasn’t official due to excessive wind speed, but Rousseau had the capability; he only needed the stage.

Rousseau then examined his earnings for the day.

One attribute point.

One skill.

The skill was named ‘Balance.’

Its description was ‘Helps you rapidly find your center of gravity during bodily imbalance, achieve a state of equilibrium, and unleash greater physical power.’

Isn’t this just technique for cornering? I seem to already have it. Rousseau felt the system had granted him a redundant skill.

He had another question: If Rousseau broke his own record next, would it count as setting a new record? Would it grant him another skill?

…

Before returning, Rousseau arranged another meeting with Dong Zijian. He handed over recordings of his races, hoping Dong Zijian would review them in his spare time, offer guidance, and provide advice.

Dong Zijian spoke of next year’s World Championships, saying that if Rousseau rejoined the team, he could represent the country at the Worlds.

“Not next year, at least not the first half. My ability isn’t yet at world-class level; if I compete, I must aim for gold,” Rousseau replied, considering his own perspective and not yet factoring in Li Yan’s role as head coach.

“My main goal next year is the Golden League. I’m quite interested in those fifty kilos of gold,” Rousseau smiled.

“Very well, I wish you success,” Dong Zijian replied.

The two parted easily; Dong Zijian promised to review Rousseau’s training and competition videos and offer feedback. He also gave Rousseau an email address, telling him to send future videos there.

Email… Rousseau wasn’t quite sure, but Lu Xiaoyu surely understood.

…

On the flight home.

Rousseau tallied his gains.

From this capital city indoor athletics invitational, he had acquired two skills and one attribute point.

The only regret was losing the 60-meter final to Zhang Zhen, costing him an attribute point.

But that wouldn’t happen next time.

The next indoor invitational would be at Rongcheng, on December 10th. Rousseau believed that after reviewing his progress, he would surely defeat Zhang Zhen in the 60 meters next time.

Just wait, little brother… Rousseau reclined in the economy seat, feigning sleep; with his height and build, economy class was truly uncomfortable, and Tian Shiwei felt the same.

Tian Shiwei had wanted to upgrade everyone’s seats, but Lu Jinrong told him it wasn’t allowed—wait until you win an Asian Games or Olympic title, then you can fly first class; otherwise, if discovered, people would question where Pengcheng Sports’ funds were going.

“So Liu Yu can fly first class?” Tian Shiwei asked, dissatisfied.

“If Liu Yu doesn’t fly first class, people will question where the Athletics Management Center’s funds are spent,” Lu Jinrong replied.

In sports, only results matter.

“One day I’ll fly first class too!” Tian Shiwei vowed.

Just retire… Rousseau glanced at him; retire, and you’ll have your first-class seat, Prince Tian.

…

After takeoff.

Ruan Mei took out her camera and began reviewing her photos.

All of Rousseau.

Rousseau trying on shoes in the hotel, Rousseau warming up on the rubber track, and, most of all, Rousseau crossing the finish line.

Head bowed, leaning forward, exerting every ounce of strength, every muscle taut to the extreme, his expression inevitably a bit ferocious. Though Rousseau said he wanted to control it, it was nearly impossible; if he tried, it just looked comically grotesque.

Ruan Mei flipped through the photos one by one, smiling to herself.

She didn’t think it ugly at all…

Ahem!

A cough sounded nearby.

Ruan Mei was startled, hurriedly lifting her head and attempting to hide the camera. Seeing Lu Jinrong, she realized what was happening.

“Ah… Coach?” Ruan Mei asked.

“Could you share a few photos of Rousseau with me? The provincial newspaper is writing a report on his double record-breaking performance, and some pictures would be more persuasive,” Lu Jinrong said.

The reporter, of course, was Guan Zhaoyue.

Guan Zhaoyue had wanted to attend this indoor invitational, but with the year’s end approaching, the newspaper’s budget was too tight, so she could only rely on Lu Jinrong’s updates. Hearing that Rousseau had broken two records in succession, she was ecstatic; surely, a sweeping article would appear in tomorrow’s edition.

Five updates—tearfully grateful for the support of brothers and sisters, nearly 4,000 favorites, just a few short of 1,000 first orders, with a subscription ratio approaching 1:4. Thank you all deeply; five updates to show my gratitude. And another good news: next week I’ll be featured in Sanjiang! It’s all thanks to your support—words cannot express my gratitude, so I can only write more.

(End of chapter)