Chapter Six: Steady Aim, Swift Escape

“Taunt him?” During the break, Rousseau selected the first option on the status bar.

A line of text appeared:
“Your opponent is angered by your taunt and will now strive to run an even faster time.”

Damn...

Rousseau glanced at Tian Shiwei.
Tian Shiwei glanced back at Rousseau.

For no particular reason, a feeling of dislike suddenly welled up in Tian Shiwei toward the dark-skinned young man before him. Egged on by the voices in his ear telling him to “teach him a lesson,” he made up his mind to run even faster next time, to show the boy up and, incidentally, to prove his worth to the director of the Provincial Sports Committee. Of course, the latter was the real motivation—otherwise, why bother with all this?

Now Rousseau had only two options left.

“Break his leg...”
That’s illegal.

Rousseau had no idea what effect these options would actually have. Would they really influence reality? Regardless, that was something he could never do, not just because it was illegal.

So only “false start” remained.

“False start,” also known as “pushing the start.” Human reaction takes time; from the moment the starting gun fires to the first step, this interval can be trained to be extremely short. The starting reaction for top sprinters is between 0.1 and 0.2 seconds—a tenth of a second can be the difference between winning a medal or not.

Earlier, Tian Shiwei’s reaction at the start was about 0.3 seconds, while Rousseau’s was at least 0.5 seconds—a considerable gap caused by Rousseau’s lack of professional training, and one that couldn’t be closed overnight except by pushing the start.

“False start.”

“You began running before the starting gun fired.
False start failed.
The referee looked at you with displeasure.”

Although the “false start” failed, the option didn’t disappear from the status bar, so Rousseau chose it a second time.

“You false start a second time.
You fail again.
Your feet move faster than the starting gun.
The referee checks his starting pistol and warns you that in an official competition, you would have already been disqualified.”

The words scrolled past Rousseau’s eyes.
But would these things really happen?
He didn’t know, so he felt no particular psychological burden.

He selected “false start” for a third time.

“You false start and fail for the third time.
Your fellow competitor, Tian Shiwei, casts a hostile look at you.

Tian Shiwei’s favorability decreases.
Director Shen Peng’s favorability decreases.
Coach Lu Jinrong’s favorability decreases.”

No big deal.
Fourth try—false start again.

“You successfully push the start and take the lead right from the gun...!”

...

Ten minutes later, after the break, Lu Xiaoyu looked at her older brother with a hint of worry.
During the break, Rousseau had been staring into space, sometimes nodding or shaking his head, his face flickering between confusion and hesitation. This made Lu Xiaoyu worry that perhaps failure had hit her brother too hard.

Rousseau and Tian Shiwei stood once more at the starting line.

“Your name is... Tian Shiwei?” Rousseau initiated conversation for the first time.

“Yeah. What’s your name?” Tian Shiwei replied.

But Rousseau ignored him, gazing off into the distance instead. Tian Shiwei thought he was daydreaming, but Rousseau was actually scanning the text on his status bar.

Previously, Rousseau hadn’t known Tian Shiwei’s name, but the status bar now displayed it. Did this mean the status bar had some kind of strange power? Would the three false starts really happen next?

Tian Shiwei had been waiting hopefully for Rousseau to introduce himself, but when Rousseau ignored him, Tian Shiwei felt as if someone had smeared mud all over his goodwill. His anger flared. You just wait!

They bent forward.

The starter raised his gun.

As Rousseau waited for the shot, he mulled over the situation.
Should he try to false start?
If not, he’d definitely lose; if he did, there was still a sliver of hope.
Would the words on the status bar really come true?
Regardless—it was worth a try!

“Ready...” Shen Peng, the stand-in starter, called out.

Rousseau watched the starter’s movements and, just before he pulled the trigger, explosively launched himself forward.

Whistle!

Rousseau was up before Tian Shiwei. At that moment, Shen Peng’s whistle shrilled in his ear.

“False start!”

Both Rousseau and Tian Shiwei came to a halt.

Tian Shiwei shot Rousseau an annoyed glance.

Rousseau responded with an apologetic smile, as if to say, Don’t be mad just yet; soon you’ll really want to hit me.

Tian Shiwei was taken aback by the smile, a twinge of guilt surfacing in his heart. Was he taking things too far?

...

Bang!
Whistle!
The starting gun followed closely after the whistle.

Shen Peng frowned as he watched Rousseau walk back. “If this were an official race, you’d already be disqualified.”

Exactly as predicted.

Before bending down again, Rousseau flashed a warm, apologetic smile at Tian Shiwei, the director, and the coach, hoping to salvage something in the face of the inevitable.

Everyone found their hearts softened by Rousseau’s smile.

But the third time—

Bang!
Whistle!
A third false start!
A third failure!

Rousseau trudged back, nodding thoughtfully as if nothing had happened at all.

The track athletes watching were struck dumb. Reflecting on the smile this dark-skinned kid had given earlier, they realized: what incredible mental fortitude! A single false start was enough to throw anyone off; three in a row and still unfazed—was he just completely carefree?

Director Shen Peng and the coach both fixed their eyes on Rousseau, their expressions far from pleasant. As elders, it was hard for them to scold these youngsters too harshly—after all, this wasn’t an official competition—but still, it was aggravating. Was the boy doing it on purpose?

Meanwhile, Tian Shiwei, who’d been led on three times for nothing, could barely contain his fury, clenching his fists and making threatening gestures, only to be stopped by the coach.

“Rousseau, even though this isn’t an official race, this is your last chance. If you break the rules again, your results won’t count. You know the standard—three trials, two under twelve seconds to pass. This is your final attempt.”

Rousseau nodded as he listened to the coach.

He bent down.

He glanced at Lu Xiaoyu, who was clutching her small fists to her chest, and gave her a reassuring smile.

Lu Xiaoyu replied with a stiff, anxious grin.

The director and coach both noticed Rousseau’s gesture, exchanging incredulous glances. This kid was just too composed.

“Ready...”

“Go!”

Bang!

The instant the gun fired, Rousseau and Tian Shiwei shot forward like arrows.

Rousseau was faster, half a body length ahead of Tian Shiwei.

But this wasn’t a false start—at least to the naked eye of the director, Rousseau left the line at the sound of the gun.

And yet, it was clearly an almost perfect “pushed start”...

Director Shen Peng watched as Rousseau and Tian Shiwei raced ahead, and suddenly realized that perhaps Coach Lu really had found a most extraordinary prodigy.