Chapter 102: Pressure from the Champion

December 17, 2004.

In terms of time, there were still three days remaining before the third leg of the Indoor Athletics Invitational—the Quancheng Station.

In terms of location, it was Bangkok, Thailand, situated four degrees of latitude south of Pengcheng.

At this very moment, an international track and field competition called the “Thailand Athletics Open” was underway.

At 3:30 p.m., the 100-meter final officially commenced.

The Thailand Athletics Open, classified as a Level Two event by the International Association of Athletics Federations, featured finalists from countries including the United States, Japan, and Jamaica. Remarkably, there was also a rare participant from the mainland.

Bang!

The starter pistol fired.

Athletes of every skin tone surged forward from the starting blocks.

Amidst a chorus of cheers, the runners dashed toward the finish line with the speed of the wind and lightning.

Soon, a yellow-skinned athlete wearing glasses emerged from the pack, crossing the finish line first with a poised and powerful stride.

The crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause; after all, among the sea of dark and light-skinned competitors, this Asian athlete’s complexion resonated more closely with many spectators.

Moments later, the electronic scoreboard displayed the athlete’s time.

“Pan Kai, 10.15 seconds.”

Pan Kai stood there, breathing heavily, the exhaustion from the intense exertion washing over him like a tide. Yet this result was a comforting reward for his dedication and effort.

10.15 seconds.

An improvement of 0.15 seconds over his previous time at the Izmir Universiade.

In the 100-meter sprint, that was a tremendous leap forward.

Pan Kai first raised his fist toward the sky, then turned his gaze to the sideline, where a middle-aged man in a suit stood clapping softly—his coach, Li Yan.

Li Yan applauded quietly, showing no overt excitement. This victory had undoubtedly been anticipated.

Confident and composed, Li Yan was the kind of coach who inspired trust in his athletes, always delivering on his promises, no matter the means.

A staff member handed Pan Kai the national flag.

Draped in the flag, Pan Kai began a slow lap around the track.

Applause echoed from the stands.

In accordance with the Sports Bureau’s directives, the Sports Daily had dispatched a reporter to follow Pan Kai’s journey. The photos taken at this moment would soon be transmitted back home, saturating all news outlets and completely overshadowing the coverage of another athlete named Lu Suo, who had secured gold in the 60-meter and 200-meter events at the Indoor Invitational.

The Era of Genetics.

After all, glory for the nation had to be earned beyond its borders.

...

“Pan Kai wins the 100-meter gold at the Thailand Athletics Open with a time of 10.15 seconds...”

Lu Jinrong read this headline in the newspaper the very next day.

The figure 10.15 stunned him.

Just months prior, Pan Kai’s best was 10.30 seconds.

Reading further, he found a segment of the reporter’s interview with Pan Kai:

“...The next competition is surely the National Games, where I will represent the Capital Team. The 100 meters is my strongest event...

...No, no, I wouldn’t dare to guarantee the championship at the National Games. There are still outstanding athletes domestically, like my junior teammate Zhang Zhen on the national team...

...I will also compete in the 200 meters, but it’s not my strongest event...

...Huh? You mentioned Lu Suo? I haven’t heard of him. Oh, the 200-meter champion of the East Asian Youth Games, the country’s top 200-meter sprinter? That must be impressive. I’ve been training abroad recently and don’t know him...”

Pan Kai planned to compete in both the 100 and 200 meters at the National Games.

This news caused Lu Jinrong to furrow his brow.

Though winning and losing were part of the sport, Lu Suo seemed unable to afford defeat. A loss would signify his obsolescence in the national team, jeopardizing Pengcheng’s Sports Committee’s funding for his participation in the Golden Grand Prix.

After all, there could only be one champion. If Pan Kai could achieve it, why would Lu Suo still be needed?

Lu Jinrong was so engrossed in the paper he failed to notice Lu Suo approaching.

It was 7:30 a.m., and in the entire Pengcheng provincial team, only Coach Lu Jinrong and Lu Suo had arrived this early. Such was the way when Lu Suo rejoined the team.

“Coach,” Lu Suo suddenly spoke, startling Lu Jinrong. Reflexively, he wanted to fold away the newspaper. The Indoor Invitational at Quancheng was imminent, and Lu Jinrong didn’t want Lu Suo distracted by the news.

But then he noticed Lu Suo also held a copy of today’s Southern Guangdong Daily.

Seeing Lu Jinrong glance at the paper, Lu Suo explained, “I bought it on the way here.”

Right—Lu Suo lived in the training center dormitory, and on his way in, he must have stopped at the newsstand by the gate. Perhaps they had even bought their papers back to back.

“10.15 seconds,” Lu Suo said, echoing Lu Jinrong’s focus. “I’m not that fast yet.”

Lu Jinrong nodded. Lu Suo’s last recorded 100-meter time was 10.30 seconds—roughly Pan Kai’s mark two months ago. It had seemed the fastest in the country, but now he had been left behind.

“But I can surpass him,” Lu Suo added.

Lu Jinrong wanted to tell him he admired his unfounded confidence but decided against it, not wanting to dampen Lu Suo’s spirit.

At that moment, the sprinters began to arrive at the track one after another.

Most were older than Lu Suo, but each greeted Lu Jinrong first with “Coach,” then nodded respectfully to Lu Suo as “Brother Lu.” The only one calling him “Old Lu” was Tian Shiwei.

Lu Suo nodded back to them, preparing to train together.

“Someday, when you’re ready, take them under your wing,” Lu Jinrong suddenly said.

Yes.

Lu Suo nodded, pondering the coach’s unexpected words.

Take them under his wing—how?

Though Lu Jinrong and other coaches emphasized that sprinting was a competitive sport requiring teamwork, to Lu Suo it was truly an individual endeavor, a personal world where no one else existed.

Even though Tian Shiwei, his closest friend, had been a great help in the national team, his role wasn’t decisive. Still, Lu Suo was grateful for the companionship.

He knew Lu Jinrong was deeply sentimental.

Seeing Lu Suo stepping up, the coach hoped he would bring the team along with him to the next level.

But what could Lu Suo do for those teammates who constantly called him “Brother Lu”?

...

During a training break, Lu Suo asked Tian Shiwei, “Who’s the best on the 4x100 relay team right now?”

“Still Wang Peng and Lin Lishuo, and also Qian Feng,” Tian Shiwei replied.

“Qian Feng?” Lu Suo had never heard of him.

“Newly joined the team,” Tian Shiwei called out, “Qian Feng, come here.”

A rather honest-looking, short young man jogged over.

Lu Suo recalled that this boy had arrived earlier than anyone else that morning, but he had been training quietly in a corner of the field, so Lu Suo hadn’t noticed him.

“Hello, Brother Lu, Brother Shiwei,” the boy named Qian Feng greeted politely.

“Qian Feng is seventeen and transferred from the Yangcheng City Team,” Tian Shiwei explained.

“Why did you change teams?” Lu Suo asked.

“Because I really admire you, Brother Lu!” Qian Feng said earnestly. “I decided to join the Pengcheng City Team and be your teammate after watching your races!”

Ah ha... Lu Suo was quite surprised and glanced at Tian Shiwei.

“Really. This kid said he came for you as soon as he joined,” Tian Shiwei chuckled.

“How come I didn’t know that?” Lu Suo shook his head.

“You’re always so busy, no time to pay attention. By the way, why did you ask about the 4x100 relay?” Tian Shiwei remembered.

“Just curious,” Lu Suo said.