Chapter 112: You Can Go Faster

The reporters who came to Fengtian Station this time were all professionals.

Of course, the reporter from The Sports Gazette insisted that Rousseau had broken the record three times, not just twice as Zhang Zhen claimed. This was purely a matter of logic, not a question of sports knowledge.

Everyone knew that the winning time for the 60-meter indoor championship at this year’s World Championships was 6.43 seconds.

Both athletes before them had already entered that championship range. With a good performance, they could easily compete with other world-class sprinters in the 60-meter indoor event.

This was yet another breakthrough for the country’s track and field program.

Though not unprecedented—after all, Liu Yu's 110-meter hurdles record had set a precedent—achieving such outstanding results at a relatively low-profile indoor invitational was still worthy of an in-depth feature.

After all, the nation’s track and field level was so far behind the world’s, every bit of progress deserved praise.

As the announcer’s voice echoed through the gym, congratulating both athletes for breaking records, the atmosphere reached its peak.

...

Lost.

After Dong Zijian pulled Zhang Zhen out from the foam mat, his first glance went to the electronic scoreboard.

His eyes didn’t first focus on the numbers, but on the order of the names.

Seeing himself placed second, an unprecedented sense of defeat flooded his entire being. He stood there, initially stunned, then began to tremble slightly.

Noticing Zhang Zhen’s mood, Dong Zijian wrapped an arm around his shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

“Zhang Zhen.” A voice called out his name.

Zhang Zhen turned his head and saw Rousseau.

...

Rousseau had also seen the results.

After Lu Jinrong helped him out of the foam mat, he stretched a little, feeling some discomfort in his thigh, but after moving around, it eased considerably.

A minor injury, nothing serious—some ointment would take care of it.

But... it was impressive.

Rousseau looked over at Zhang Zhen.

This kid, like a fierce warrior, had almost fully pushed the limits of the Glass Crown’s potential in the 60 meters.

Compared to the results at the Capital Station, the improvement was tremendous.

“Zhang Zhen!” Rousseau called out.

Zhang Zhen turned his head, and Rousseau saw the redness in his eyes, as if he was about to cry.

“You’re strong! World-class!” Rousseau gave him a thumbs-up.

Zhang Zhen was stunned. He hadn’t expected Rousseau to be the first to congratulate him. But what was there to celebrate? He had still lost, hadn’t he?

Was this congratulations just... mockery? Thinking that, tears that had been held back finally streamed down Zhang Zhen’s face.

In the post-event media reports, this moment was also described:

“...At the moment the results were announced, athlete Zhang Zhen shed tears of emotion, likely reflecting on the hard work and dedication that led to this sweat-and-tear-filled achievement...”

In any case, during the post-race interviews, Zhang Zhen remained silent, leaving the reporters to spin their own narratives.

Rousseau answered a few questions before quickly leaving. He needed to tend to his leg injury—tomorrow was the 200-meter race, a scheduled attribute point he had to strive for.

Before Rousseau and Zhang Zhen departed, at the reporters’ request, the two athletes stood center stage with their coaches on either side for numerous photographs.

To the journalists, Rousseau and Zhang Zhen were not only the fastest two in the indoor 60-meter event so far, but also the most captivating male athletes in the country’s sprinting and possibly all competitive sports.

After the event, the photos of this scene spread widely, destined to grace the cover of the next issue of Sports Weekly and garner massive attention online.

Many girls who were previously uninterested in track and field began following domestic competitions because of this photo. Their focus was simple and pure—drawn by looks, captivated by appearances, with the results as a happy bonus.

Rousseau watched as Zhang Zhen and Dong Zijian hurried off, feeling a twinge of regret.

Dong Zijian had recently offered Rousseau plenty of advice online, and Rousseau wanted to find a chance to speak with him.

As for Zhang Zhen, Rousseau summed up his feelings toward him in two words: admiration.

Rousseau wanted to know how Zhang Zhen managed it. Rousseau had relied on status bars to improve so rapidly; how did Zhang Zhen keep pace, matching him stride for stride in the 60 meters?

But Zhang Zhen gave no opportunity for conversation.

Not even Dong Zijian got a chance to comfort him.

Returning to the hotel, Zhang Zhen locked himself in his room, and Dong Zijian soon heard the sound of things being smashed inside.

Sighing, Dong Zijian called Li Yan from outside Zhang Zhen’s door.

When Li Yan answered, he asked directly, “What was Zhang Zhen’s time?”

“6.48 seconds,” Dong Zijian replied.

“A bit faster, so... Rousseau’s time was close?” Li Yan pressed.

Dong Zijian had to admire Li Yan’s understanding of sprinting and the psychological state of his athletes. Zhang Zhen’s potential tended to explode under pressure, but this also meant his mental state was fragile.

“Rousseau was faster—6.46 seconds,” Dong Zijian said.

“Improved by 0.06 seconds from the Quancheng Station. He must be close to his limit,” Li Yan casually analyzed. His focus wasn’t on Rousseau now.

He told Dong Zijian, “Focus on Zhang Zhen’s psychological state. He struggles to handle setbacks. Bring him back quickly, and if necessary, tell him I can make him faster.”

“Aren’t you worried about Rousseau? His 60-meter time is consistently ahead of Zhang Zhen’s,” Dong Zijian asked.

“As long as Zhang Zhen can break into the indoor 60-meter championship realm, that’s enough. Rousseau isn’t qualified for next year’s World Championships—unless he joins my team,” Li Yan said indifferently, always positioning himself for a win-win.

Dong Zijian thought about it and found no rebuttal.

No matter how good Rousseau’s times were, he couldn’t attend the World Championships, so Zhang Zhen just needed to be good enough.

A logic genius.

A seeker of truth.

“Coach Li, how exactly did you improve Zhang Zhen’s performance? His progress has been so rapid,” Dong Zijian couldn’t help but ask.

“Is Rousseau’s progress not rapid?” Li Yan countered. “If there’s one Rousseau, there can be a second.”

Dong Zijian still had no argument.

He knocked on Zhang Zhen’s door. “Zhang Zhen, get ready. We’re heading back to the capital soon.”

No response.

Dong Zijian added, “Coach Li knows your results.”

The door creaked open.

Zhang Zhen, red-eyed and anxious, looked at Dong Zijian, clearly concerned about Li Yan’s impression. Part of Zhang Zhen’s breakdown today stemmed from the pressure Li Yan had placed on him—pressure born of Zhang Zhen’s own promise.

He had vowed to beat Rousseau, but he lost.

“Coach Li says he can make you faster.”

“All right, we’ll leave immediately!”