Chapter Twenty-Five: Genius

What Rousseau hadn’t expected was that Lu Xiaoyu not only understood calculus but could solve every problem on that test. Lu Xiaoyu said she was self-taught, with textbooks she’d gotten from Old Wang, the junk collector next door... In fact, those textbooks were still stacked under the bed; Rousseau had seen them and wondered about it, but just assumed Lu Xiaoyu was reading them for fun.

Lu Xiaoyu’s homeroom teacher had also complained that she was always reading “irrelevant books” during class, but since her grades were so outstanding, the teacher let it slide.

So, was she really self-studying across both middle and high school levels? Rousseau began to suspect that he wasn’t taking care of Lu Xiaoyu, but rather holding her back from taking off. After all, with his own abilities, he couldn’t even judge her true academic level—she was a genius.

...

Back at the sports academy, Rousseau found Tian Shiwei studying, a scene as rare as a blue moon.

He glanced at the test Tian Shiwei was working on—it was a college-level calculus paper, the same one the coach had asked Rousseau to take home and complete.

“You guys have to do this calculus test too?” Rousseau asked.

“Yeah... The coach said we can’t start the break unless we finish it...” Tian Shiwei scratched his scalp, as if trying to dig out his own brains to see if they were made of water, since he felt so dumb.

“Just copy someone else’s answers,” Rousseau said. Math problems were all the same when copied.

“Nobody can solve them!” Tian Shiwei wailed. “Zhu Nuo and Zheng Ni are about to jump off the roof!”

Right—Zheng Ni was supposed to be one of the best academically among the athletes, and if even she couldn’t do it, then people might as well jump. The coaches must have overestimated their academic level, handing out such a difficult test.

How many students have hung themselves on the tree called Calculus? Hanging a few more athletes was nothing.

Rousseau slid his own completed paper in front of Tian Shiwei.

Huh?

Tian Shiwei took it, squinted at the answers, then looked at Rousseau in confusion: “Did you just make this up?”

Of course, Tian Shiwei knew Rousseau’s academic level; he, Zhu Nuo, and Rousseau were like the Three Musketeers now, none of whom could possibly finish such a difficult calculus test.

“My sister did it,” Rousseau replied, feeling a surge of pride. Whose little sister could be this outstanding? She’d just finished elementary school and already taught herself all the middle and high school material.

“Your sister... did it?” Tian Shiwei’s mind conjured up the image of that sweet, soft, big-eyed girl—like a marshmallow. But wait, wasn’t she just a little kid? Then this paper must be nonsense.

“You don’t believe me?” Rousseau saw Tian Shiwei hesitating and started to pull the paper back.

“No, no, at least it gives me something to reference. It’s better than fumbling in the dark. Honestly, if I went back to elementary school, I might not even do as well as your sister,” Tian Shiwei said, thinking himself modest.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Rousseau replied, utterly confident and proud.

...

With thirty-five days left before the Provincial Games, a “cheating scandal” broke out within the provincial team.

It started when the math teacher noticed several dozen identical answer sheets. The fault lay with Tian Shiwei, who, being too generous, had let everyone copy his answers, and those who copied didn’t bother to change even a single punctuation mark.

No matter how beautiful the solutions were, if they were copied, it only further proved the “shamelessness” of those involved.

From Rousseau to Tian Shiwei and the rest of the athletes who got scolded, not one was innocent. After reprimanding them, the coaches did some soul-searching and decided to lower the difficulty of the next exam to a first-year high school level. If anyone failed again, they’d really be left off the roster.

This concession gave the team hope. Many, with Tian Shiwei as their representative, figured that even if they continued to fail, the coaches would just keep lowering the bar. In the end, who made the final call but the coaches themselves?

Rousseau, however, remained cautiously pessimistic. No matter what, he knew he couldn’t improve his academics much in such a short time.

Despite these worries, training had to continue.

At this point, Coach Lu Jinrong of the sprint team had already drafted tentative selections for who would run the 100m, 200m, 400m, and 4x100m relay at the Provincial Games.

He was intimately familiar with the ten or so athletes he’d handpicked—their technical strengths and which events suited them. The only one he was still unsure about was Rousseau, who had only recently joined the team.

Picking up Rousseau’s file, Lu Jinrong reviewed his physical and technical profile in his mind.

“Height: 1.82 meters, weight: 72 kilograms. Technical strengths: long stride, but slow turnover rate; strong sprint endurance; good stamina; especially powerful in the final 30 meters; landing and push-off angles are both on the large side; weak on curves.”

In short, Rousseau still needed technical improvement and to gain weight—72 kilograms was still a bit light for his height.

Recently, Rousseau’s form seemed off as well. He’d been falling once or twice during training every day for a week now, which worried Lu Jinrong.

Currently, he saw Rousseau as Tian Shiwei’s understudy. Their height, weight, and techniques were very similar. Lu Jinrong hoped that if anything happened to Tian Shiwei in competition, Rousseau could step in.

Training two similar athletes with the same template meant less resource consumption but double the results. That’s why, even though Rousseau was new, Lu Jinrong valued him highly—Tian Shiwei’s success was a model that could be replicated.

After jotting down his observations, Lu Jinrong glanced outside. It was already dark. He decided to find Rousseau for a talk, knowing he’d be in the training room at this hour.

He left his office, then turned back, remembering to grab a few cans of protein powder from the cabinet.

Sure enough, as soon as he reached the training room, he heard the clang of weights.

Inside, Rousseau was drenched in sweat at the power rack, working on upper body stability. Nearby, Zhu Nuo from the high jump team was doing crunches.

Lately, Coach Li Na from the high jump team had been gossiping about how Rousseau from the sprint team and Zhu Nuo seemed quite close—eating lunch together most days, occasionally training together in the evening.

The coaches didn’t mind athletes dating as long as it didn’t interfere with training, but Lu Jinrong, knowing both their backgrounds, wasn’t optimistic. The difference between them was too great.

But he had no experience in such matters, so he chose to pretend not to notice.

“Coach,” Rousseau greeted him.

Zhu Nuo also nodded a greeting.

Lu Jinrong gestured for them to continue without stopping.

Rousseau finished his set before pausing.

“What are you working on tonight?” Lu Jinrong asked.

“According to my plan, upper and lower body stability,” Rousseau replied. “I’m also bulking up—my weight’s still a bit low. Gaining mass will improve my stability.”

“Good,” Lu Jinrong said, finding Rousseau had already answered everything he wanted to say.

This was one of the things he admired about Rousseau: he was exceptionally aware of his own condition, had strong willpower, and approached every type of training with discipline and insight.

What was even more impressive was that, despite maintaining such a high-intensity regimen, Rousseau’s fitness remained excellent—no signs of fatigue or increased injury risk. Lu Jinrong used to think Rousseau was like a leopard; now he thought of him as a black battle tank.

“Make sure not to overdo it. You’ve been falling a lot during training lately—what do you think is causing that?” Lu Jinrong asked.

“Lack of stability,” Rousseau replied, though he couldn’t admit he’d unlocked a new “technique” and was adjusting his body to handle it.

That’s right—using “explosion” in sprints and changing running habits was one thing—a technical adjustment. But physically, his status panel reminded him he needed to build more “strength” to master this skill.

Sports training isn’t like playing a video game where you can just drag a skill onto your character and be done. The human body is a super complex machine, and the 100-meter dash pushes every component to its limits.

Suddenly adding new components or changing movement patterns requires repeated adaptation and adjustment. Machines need a wrench; the body needs targeted high-intensity training.

“Gaining weight is the right move. Here,” Lu Jinrong said, handing him the cans of protein powder.

“Protein powder?” Rousseau echoed—he’d never tried the stuff.

“It helps build muscle, but it’s just a supplement. Don’t slack off on training,” Lu Jinrong reminded him, though he realized it was a needless warning. Rousseau always trained too much, never too little.

“There’s something like this?” Rousseau’s eyes lit up; he’d never even heard of it before.