Chapter Eleven: The High Jump Queen of the Provincial Team

Ever since the competition with Tian Shiwei, when the status bar was "activated" and began displaying narrative-style language or scripts, these descriptions would only appear during matches. Especially when competing against Tian Shiwei, the status bar dangled the reward of "1 attribute point," urging Rousseau to defeat him—though Rousseau had yet to accomplish this. When racing other track team members, the status bar would react, but offered no rewards. Rousseau suspected this was because Tian Shiwei was the strongest sprinter on the team, and only besting him warranted a prize.

Just now, after that strange "ghost" figure vaulted over his head, the status bar responded as well. However, Rousseau had been so startled that he didn't notice the change until he reached the cafeteria.

"You were crossed over by an opponent.
For a high jumper, this is the greatest humiliation.
If you manage to defeat Juno, you will acquire a skill.
Now, challenge the queen of high jump at the sports school!
Quick, catch up with her!
She’s running...
She’s now at the main gate of the sports school.
You still have time to catch up.
Why aren’t you moving?"

The status bar babbled on, scrolling several screens of text, but since Rousseau hadn’t seen any of it, its tirade was lost on him.

There was a wealth of information here. Rousseau sat on the long bench in the cafeteria, pondering. First, the figure he’d seen wasn’t a ghost but Juno... Rousseau had heard of Juno, a member of the high jump team, and the status bar referred to her as the "queen of high jump," claiming that beating her would earn him a "skill."

He hadn’t even collected the "attribute point" from Tian Shiwei yet, and now there was another reward on offer—a "skill." By definition, a skill is something usable, isn’t it? That was intriguing.

In addition, what was Juno doing at the main gate of the sports school so late at night?

...

"I swear I wasn’t sneaking out!"

Juno pleaded with the security guard at the main entrance of the sports academy.

"I was just coming back from the cafeteria, along the little path behind the hill. There was something terrifying lying on the ground, and it scared me out of my wits. That’s why I climbed over the back wall and ran here. I really wasn’t sneaking out tonight. Look, this bowl of spicy hotpot is from the school cafeteria. Please don’t call the coach!"

"Student, this excuse is ridiculous," the guard replied, dialing his phone. "If you could jump over the back wall, why not jump back? Why come all the way to the front gate?"

"There was a ghost!" Juno’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Should I jump back and chat with it? I was scared out of my mind! I don’t dare go back!"

"You claim this spicy hotpot is from the school cafeteria. What proof do you have?" the guard pressed on, his tone almost that of a detective. "And you ran all the way from the back wall, yet the bowl is still full. How is that possible? That’s the most damning point. If you jumped the wall, how could not a single drop of soup be spilled?"

"I’m a high jumper. What’s there to doubt?" Juno replied confidently. "And as a seasoned spicy hotpot enthusiast, how could I waste even a single drop of soup?"

"Your coach is already on the way," the guard said. "Except during holidays, no athlete can enter or exit without a coach’s approval. That’s the rule."

Ten minutes later, the coach arrived, stern-faced. Only then did the guard open the gate and let Juno in.

"Coach..." Juno said pitifully, "I saw a ghost..."

The coach looked at his proud pupil, dressed in shorts and clutching a bowl of spicy hotpot. I don’t believe a word!

...

Rousseau returned to the dormitory.

Tian Shiwei was playing a game. He had somehow acquired a palm-sized handheld console, supposedly a NDS from Renhell. There was no Chinese version yet—only the Japanese one. To play, Tian Shiwei was even learning Japanese, and he was engrossed in a game called Castlevania, never tiring of it.

Whenever there was a break in training, he’d play a bit, and evenings were his dedicated gaming time. Rousseau saw him gaming almost every night upon returning.

The sound of Rousseau opening the door startled Tian Shiwei. He quickly shoved the console under the covers, grabbed a math textbook, glanced at Rousseau, muttered, "Bad luck," then pulled the game out again.

Rousseau sat on the opposite bed, watching him.

The provincial team housed two athletes per room. Far better than the sports school students, but still lacking privacy. It was said that on the national team, everyone got their own room, something Rousseau looked forward to.

As for why Rousseau shared a room with Tian Shiwei, beyond the old adage about "enemies crossing paths," the coach explained that Tian Shiwei was currently the team record holder for the 100 meters, and Rousseau’s main event would also be the 100 meters, so Tian Shiwei could guide him.

Additionally, if Rousseau performed well, he’d likely join the 4x100 meter relay team. Sharing a dorm would foster early camaraderie.

Tian Shiwei was strongly opposed to this, Rousseau didn’t mind, and in the team, no one could override the coach. For or against, it didn’t matter—it would be carried out.

Now, under Rousseau’s gaze, Tian Shiwei felt as if he were sitting on thorns, swallowing needles, sitting atop a pincushion. The character he controlled dropped off a platform and was smashed to bits. He sighed, sat up, and stared at Rousseau. "Why are you staring at me?"

"You said not to bother you when you’re gaming," Rousseau replied, respecting his roommate’s boundaries.

"Fine, just say what you want. If you want to challenge me, wait until tomorrow. Don’t bug me tonight," Tian Shiwei said. He was still a civilized kid and couldn’t bring himself to say anything too crude.

Lately, Rousseau had been frequently challenging Tian Shiwei, but Tian Shiwei always emerged victorious. Rousseau’s dogged persistence was admirable, but also rather annoying.

This was one of the rare times Rousseau initiated a conversation outside of competition.

In Tian Shiwei’s eyes, Rousseau was somewhat withdrawn. He suspected it was due to Rousseau’s background—most of the track team knew by now: orphaned, raising his sister alone.

With such a history, it was only natural to be introverted and sensitive.

"This isn’t about competition," Rousseau shook his head. "Do you know Juno?"

"Old Zhu? Of course. . . ." Then Tian Shiwei looked at Rousseau, his expression turning sly. "You’re interested in her?"

"I am interested," Rousseau admitted honestly.

He had thought the status bar only responded to sprinting, but in that instant, it had shown interest in high jump too—so now Rousseau was curious about Juno.

It wasn’t unusual for sprinters to train in high jump. The two disciplines shared certain athletic requirements, and many switched between them, so Rousseau believed the "skill" Juno possessed was plausible.

"Old Lu, let me advise you: Juno’s a great friend, but if you’re thinking of wooing her, you should weigh your worth. Do you know who her father is? One of the top entrepreneurs in Pengcheng; richer than my family, a super tycoon," Tian Shiwei said.

"I’m not trying to woo her. I just want to compete with her," Rousseau frowned. He disliked others bringing up his background. Wealthy people, no matter how impressive, inherited their fortune. Sports are the fairest arena—even the child of the world’s richest isn’t guaranteed victory here.