Chapter Twenty-Two: A Skill

It was not until the evening, when they gathered once more in the sports hall, that the conversation still revolved around the coach’s sudden announcement of the extra academic test.

Among the four, Juno was famed for her dual mastery of art and dance—meaning she had received professional training in both painting and dancing, only later switching to high jump. The true essence of her “art and dance dual mastery” was that, aside from those two, every other subject was a disaster.

Tian Shiwei excelled at Japanese, a skill acquired solely for gaming, but since neither the school exams nor the college entrance exam tested Japanese, his performance in other subjects was just as poor as Juno’s.

In terms of academics, they were the very embodiment of the term “prodigal children,” vying year after year for the bottom two spots in the rankings, worthy of being called the “Sleeping Dragon and Young Phoenix.”

As for Rousseau, though his family was impoverished, it didn’t mean he was a good student. He refused to let those two prodigals monopolize the limelight; if there were another exam, he’d surely be a strong contender for dead last.

Of the four, only Zheng Ni had decent grades, able to pass with enough effort. So, at this moment, she felt a certain superiority.

Zheng Ni’s thoughts were much like Tian Shiwei’s: surely the coaches wouldn’t cut the top sprinter and high jumper from the provincial games roster just because of their grades, right?

Tian Shiwei agreed, though not with much conviction. He argued that the coach wouldn’t dare leave vacancies at the provincial games, but as far as he could remember, Coach Lu Jinrong had never failed to keep his word.

While two roommates chatted, Rousseau and Juno commenced their competition.

Before the contest, Rousseau shared some training insights with Juno. Following Rousseau’s guidance, after a week, Juno had made noticeable progress. Though she hadn’t yet surpassed 1.80 meters, she was on the cusp of doing so.

That feeling was intangible and mysterious, impossible to articulate; it was as if her body were signaling that in a little while, she would leap even higher.

Thus, Juno found Rousseau rather remarkable.

Rousseau had her attempt a few jumps, using feedback from his status bar to advise her on how to sustain her progress—just one additional set of exercises would suffice.

After warming up, the official competition began.

Juno had no idea why Rousseau insisted on competing with her, but since it was a contest, she would give her all. Still, the innate differences between male and female physiques were undeniable. Rousseau, having prepared more thoroughly this time, cleared 1.82 meters, while Juno remained at 1.80.

Rousseau’s 1.82 meters was merely at the level of a secondary athlete; Juno’s 1.80 was already nearing the master athlete tier.

So Rousseau’s persistent demand for a match felt somewhat like bullying.

“All right, you win,” Juno said, sitting atop the bar on the foam mat, a hint of resignation in her voice. Even though she was competing against a boy, losing still stung.

Rousseau stood there, staring into space, seeming to look at Juno, yet not quite. After a moment, he clenched his fist, excitement radiating from him, though he quickly restrained it.

He had acquired the “skill” mentioned in the status bar.

The skill was called “Burst,” and its description was intriguing: “At the cost of considerable stamina, gain explosive power several times greater than ordinary physical ability, lasting one second.”

Several times greater than normal athletic ability… That was what excited Rousseau. If the status bar wasn’t lying, wouldn’t that make him invincible?

But after his excitement waned, Rousseau noticed the skill’s duration: one second?

One second… So brief it hardly seemed masculine, hardly even human…

Rousseau pondered; clearly, this skill wasn’t meant for running.

It made sense. Since it was acquired during a high jump competition, it couldn’t possibly be for sprinting.

He had to try it.

After a moment’s daze, Rousseau set the high jump bar to 1.85 meters. Juno, already starting to change, was puzzled. Was beating her not enough—was Rousseau going to challenge himself further?

Then, Juno watched Rousseau, using a high jump technique that still seemed a bit awkward to her, clear 1.85 meters with ease.

Thud!

Rousseau landed on the foam mat.

Juno’s eyes widened.

Unbelievable! He’d barely managed 1.82 meters a moment ago, and now he’d gone straight to 1.85. Though it wasn’t yet first-tier for men’s high jump, the pace of improvement was unnatural. Was he cheating, or had he been hiding his true ability?

“Old Lu, you’re incredible!” Juno clapped and waited for Rousseau to get up, but he didn’t move. Rousseau lay there, limbs splayed, as if paralyzed.

“Help me up…” Rousseau weakly reached toward Juno.

“Are you hurt?” Juno was startled. She quickly called over Tian Shiwei and Zheng Ni, who were playing cards nearby. An athlete’s injury was no small matter; it was their greatest enemy.

“No, I’m fine—just exhausted.” After being helped up, Rousseau panted, his vision swimming with black spots, while the stamina value “38/100” in his status bar glowed a harsh red.

It was his first time dropping below 40 stamina.

How to describe it? It was like staying up all week in an internet café, then suddenly stepping into blazing sunlight, body hollowed out, spirit floating above, ready to ascend at any moment.

When Rousseau had made his final 1.85 meter jump, his stamina was “58/100.”

One use of “Burst” had consumed 20 stamina points—this surprised Rousseau.

But it was impressive.

Previously, he could barely clear 1.82 meters. With “Burst,” he leapt over 1.85 with ease. A bit more practice, and under the boost of “Burst,” reaching the first-tier high jump standard wouldn’t be a problem… But there was a problem!

He was a sprinter—what use was becoming a first-tier high jumper?

Lying on his dorm bed, Rousseau pondered how best to use this “skill,” and gradually formed an idea. The “Burst” skill, though brief, could make a crucial difference in a 100-meter dash, where one second might determine victory or defeat.

For example, Rousseau’s best time was 11.5 seconds. Subtract one second, and it became 10.5—already close to the provincial record for the 100 meters.

Even more interesting was deciding when to use “Burst”—at the start, in the middle, or during the final sprint. He’d have to experiment.

But each trial cost 20 stamina points—equivalent to half a day’s real training. With just over a month until the provincial games, there wouldn’t be many chances to experiment.

Thinking through these possibilities, Rousseau closed his tired eyes. Though he was thrilled to have gained a usable skill, that excitement was gradually swallowed by exhaustion and sleepiness. In just a few seconds, Rousseau drifted off into a sweet and dreamless slumber.