Chapter Seventeen: Baton Passing Practice

Lu Jinrong watched as Tian Shiwei and Rousseau crossed the finish line two paces apart. Although his favored protégé, Tian Shiwei, still finished first, Rousseau’s progress was astonishing. In just half a month, Rousseau had improved from under twelve seconds to 11.4 seconds—a meteoric leap. If the trajectory of his progress continued at this rate, a simple calculation of time against achievement would suggest that Rousseau could surpass Tian Shiwei within a month to become the team’s top sprinter.

Yet sprinting is never that straightforward. Lu Jinrong called Rousseau’s current phase of rapid improvement the “wild card’s bonus period,” a predictable result of innate physical gifts finally matched with scientific training. Rousseau had never received systematic instruction before, didn’t even know how to use starting blocks. Once he gained access to theory, techniques, and tools, his results soared, but this grace period would not last forever.

Sooner or later, this rapid progress would stall, and when it did, the obstacles Rousseau faced would be far more formidable than those encountered by someone like Tian Shiwei, who had trained systematically since childhood. At the stage where success hinged on technique honed through years of hard practice, Rousseau would find himself at a disadvantage.

Though Rousseau had always set Tian Shiwei as his target, and Lu Jinrong had noticed the effort, he was convinced Rousseau could not catch up in the short term—and even over the long haul, Tian Shiwei’s potential was greater.

But there is only one champion in the hundred-meter dash.

There was, however, another event closely linked to the hundred meters—one that demanded teamwork. Having another athlete of similar caliber to Tian Shiwei would undoubtedly boost the provincial team’s chances of winning gold in that event.

“We’ll practice relays next,” Lu Jinrong announced.

By this time, all the head-to-head heats among the various squads had finished; after all, a hundred-meter sprint takes barely over ten seconds.

As soon as the coach called for relay practice, Rousseau prepared to step aside and work on his technique alone. He was more acutely aware than Lu Jinrong of the gap between himself and Tian Shiwei—after all, his status panel had analyzed everything down to the last detail.

According to the panel, Rousseau would not be able to beat Tian Shiwei for a long time. Furthermore, it suggested Tian Shiwei had not yet reached his own limits. Rousseau sensed as much; Tian Shiwei seemed only marginally faster, yet that small gap felt insurmountable, as if Tian Shiwei’s true strength remained hidden—or perhaps Rousseau simply wasn’t strong enough to bring it out.

Now, with only a month and a half until the provincial games, Rousseau truly felt the pressure of time and the weight of his task. If he wanted to surpass Tian Shiwei, he could not afford to waste a single moment.

Thus, when Lu Jinrong called on him to join the relay practice, Rousseau’s reluctance was palpable.

“Rousseau, too, on the 4x100?” The coach’s announcement caused a stir among the sprinters. The 4x100, as the name suggests, is a relay where four runners each sprint a hundred meters. It’s the second-most important gold-medal event for the sprint squad. The two-hundred meters is third in priority, but currently only Tian Shiwei, with his knack for running curves, is a serious contender for gold. There’s also the four-hundred, but it’s awkward territory: sprinters who excel at a hundred rarely do well at four hundred, and vice versa. Few can shine in both, and even fewer win medals.

Since Lu Jinrong took over the provincial squad, given their shallow talent pool, he focused on the hundred and the 4x100 as primary events, made the two hundred secondary, and left the four hundred to fate.

Within the team, it was generally agreed that Tian Shiwei had the best shot at gold in the hundred meters—his sub-eleven-second times made him the clear favorite. With an ace like Tian Shiwei, as long as the other relay teammates weren’t subpar, the team had a real hope of gold in the 4x100 as well.

But only three teammates could “cling to the thigh” of a champion in the relay, and though there was some debate about who they should be, the consensus wasn’t far off. Now, with Rousseau suddenly added to the mix, there was bound to be some grumbling.

But Lu Jinrong was not a man to be trifled with; his military style left no room for slackers. If he wanted Rousseau in the lineup, Rousseau would run—no one’s opinion, not even Rousseau’s, mattered.

So, standing on the track as the second leg, waiting for the baton from the runner behind, Rousseau was not particularly pleased.

At that moment, his status panel chimed in again:

“The 4x100 relay is the most demanding event in competitive sports when it comes to teamwork. Teammates must share absolute trust and perfect synergy. Individual heroics give way to collective glory. Can you foster such trust and understanding with your teammates? Should you win the championship together, you will earn a precious attribute point. Fight on, young man. Leave the sweat of your youth and passion on the track…”

Rousseau ignored the rest—cheap motivational platitudes did nothing for him. His hunger for victory sprang from the hardships of his past and the dream of changing his life. Let those who needed pep talks experience true hardship; such people would forever cherish every chance and opportunity.

Bang! The starter’s pistol fired.

In the position for the second leg, Rousseau adopted the backwards-facing start as instructed by the coach, ready to receive the baton. He felt a hard slap in his palm—a force stronger than expected. He grabbed, missed, and the baton hit the ground.

“Stop!”

Even before the coach called out, the four runners stopped in sequence on the track. Tian Shiwei, running the anchor leg—the most crucial—looked over. Rousseau turned to see the first runner’s indifferent face.

Trust? Did it exist?

Rousseau doubted he would ever earn that attribute point from the status panel.

Second attempt. Rousseau braced himself for an even rougher baton pass, only to have it jammed into his fingers, and again it fell.

Standing there, massaging his fingers, Rousseau looked at the teammate who was clearly not cooperating, then glanced at the coach.

“Rousseau, switch to lead-off,” the coach instructed—a wise decision, as it meant Rousseau only had to deal with one uncooperative teammate.

But even so, the handoffs were awkward and clumsy. Rousseau’s baton exchanges rarely went smoothly, and even when successful, they often ruined the second runner’s start.

Everyone saw what was happening: the teammates were refusing to cooperate, practicing only under the coach’s strict orders.

You can force a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

Yet Lu Jinrong remained stubborn, making them try again and again.

“If you can’t master the baton handoff, none of you are leaving this track!”