Chapter Sixty-One: The Coach’s Thoughts

Rousseau would naturally have such doubts. After all, he had collected a wealth of information about him and studied it repeatedly to reach such targeted conclusions. If there was no intention to let him compete, why analyze his running style so thoroughly?

Faced with Rousseau’s question, Dong Zijian replied with a smile, “It’s simply my personal suggestion. There are only six athletes on the team, so I’ve done targeted research for each of you. Even if you don’t get to compete after training with the national team, gaining some useful advice isn’t a wasted trip, right?”

Was this… a kind of humanistic care?

Rousseau looked at Dong Zijian, a little puzzled.

“All right, think about it yourself. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” Dong Zijian said.

“I’d like to watch the footage again,” Rousseau said.

“Sure, the coaching staff has a meeting in the afternoon. You can use the equipment this morning. Just put everything back where it belongs when you’re done,” Dong Zijian replied casually, then left on his own.

Rousseau continued to watch his own recordings, again and again, frame by frame.

The ‘skills’ given in the status bar weren’t some magical power that could just be attached and instantly unleashed—Rousseau had long realized this.

‘Burst’ was akin to a stimulant, pushing the body to its limits, with the rapid depletion of endurance serving as proof.

‘Acceleration,’ on the other hand, was achieved through precise control of cadence, stride length, and posture, allowing for greater speed. When the technique for the 200-meter curve wasn’t good, ‘acceleration’ would often be interrupted for this reason.

After Dong Zijian’s analysis, Rousseau finally understood how the two skills worked and why he suffered so badly when mixing them.

‘Burst’ boosted cadence, requiring stable stride length.

‘Acceleration’ altered both cadence and stride length, with both in constant flux.

One changed, the other stayed steady—when these two skills collided, it was like Mars crashing into Earth, resulting in a muscle strain that required three days of rest. It was almost inevitable.

So, was it possible to combine the two?

Dong Zijian believed both running styles were the result of Rousseau’s precise control, but Rousseau knew they were outcomes of the status bar’s ‘control,’ or rather, its ‘simulation.’

Of course, Dong Zijian hadn’t asked how Rousseau managed to possess such technique after only two or three months of sprint training, nor was it necessary—the urine tests were clean.

Whether Rousseau had mastered some mystical skill or was possessed by an alien mattered little to Dong Zijian. As long as he could run, as long as he could win, no one would question it. The more humble his origins, the more legendary his name would become.

Rousseau recalled Dong Zijian’s words.

“At the end of the curve, cadence and stride reach a relatively stable peak…”

Yes, this moment was crucial. If ‘burst’ was used right then, a similarly stable acceleration would follow.

“But I must consciously control my stride length and accelerate only by adjusting cadence, otherwise I’ll lose the effect of ‘acceleration,’ and worse still, risk a muscle strain…”

Rousseau wrote on paper: “Accelerate for 110 meters, use burst after the curve, burst + acceleration for the final 80 meters.” This was the answer.

After writing it, he tore the paper into pieces. The status bar was his secret, never to be revealed to anyone else.

…

Now, Rousseau was considering another issue.

He needed a more professional coach.

The status bar was just a record; it couldn’t provide targeted analysis—a fatal flaw.

Lu Jinrong was very attentive, but compared to Li Yan, he wasn’t as professional.

As for Li Yan, Rousseau didn’t trust him, and Li Yan likely didn’t trust Rousseau either. This “trust” meant complete mutual confidence between athlete and coach, the kind that unlocks an athlete’s full potential.

Could Rousseau tell Li Yan about the status bar? What a joke.

Could Li Yan follow Rousseau’s ideas, combine them with his own expertise, and focus entirely on Rousseau’s development? Impossible.

But this coach Dong Zijian… Rousseau couldn’t convince him either; after all, he was an assistant coach for the national team, and Rousseau’s performance wasn’t up to standard yet.

…

Afternoon of October 20.

Rousseau appeared on the training ground once more.

This stirred reactions among the other athletes, who’d noticed his absence that morning and were betting on whether he’d show up in the afternoon. Zhang Zhen had even thought he’d quit and run away, losing a small wager.

During a break, Rousseau had Tian Shiwei run several 200-meter sprints with him.

Because he needed an opponent to activate the status bar’s ‘skills,’ Rousseau enlisted Tian Shiwei as his running partner.

Tian Shiwei noticed Rousseau’s strange behavior during these runs: he’d stop just after the curve, shake his head, mutter “not right, not right,” though what was wrong remained a mystery—he seemed almost possessed.

When formal training began, Tian Shiwei no longer had time to run with Rousseau. Rousseau spent two hours working on his stamina alone, then headed straight for the weight room, unwilling to accept that he had already reached his “peak,” continuing to train for strength in hopes of a breakthrough.

The 20th, the 21st, the 22nd, the 23rd…

Day by day, time passed.

Rousseau maintained his enigmatic rhythm: sometimes, during team breaks, he’d find Tian Shiwei to run 200 meters with him; sometimes, he’d practice technique alone or seek breakthroughs in the weight room; more often, he immersed himself in the media room, watching footage and studying.

Meanwhile, the other sprinters had begun to focus their attention on the East Youth Games, now just one week away.

Everyone felt they were in good form.

Though Li Yan’s training was strict, it had indeed helped all the athletes improve, especially Tian Shiwei. He now consistently ran 100 meters in under 10.50 seconds, with a best of 10.45, becoming the team’s second-best sprinter after Zhang Zhen and the number two seed for the 4x100-meter relay.

Despite feeling his brother Rousseau had been treated unfairly, Tian Shiwei had to admit that as a coach, Li Yan was fully qualified—he was just…

“…I think Li Yan is a bit petty.”

It was late at night. Tian Shiwei was on the phone with Lu Jinrong, coach of the Pengcheng city team.

Lu Jinrong cared deeply about his two disciples training with the national team, so he asked Tian Shiwei to call him periodically and report. Knowing the national team training was demanding, Lu Jinrong would answer no matter how late the call.

“It’s just because Old Lu defied him, so he deliberately won’t train Old Lu, even blocks him from competing. Old Lu’s under so much pressure—if it were me, I might not have lasted. Coach, you know those three guys who quit the team? Now I finally understand why,” Tian Shiwei said.

It wasn’t only physical pressure; the mental stress was immense. Even Tian Shiwei, who wasn’t targeted by Li Yan, felt it, let alone Rousseau.

“You’re saying Coach Li trains the other five, but ignores Rousseau? He’s been on the team for over half a month, and still hasn’t had a single professional session? And now he’s barred from competition?” Lu Jinrong asked.

“Yeah, Coach, don’t you think it’s too much?” Tian Shiwei replied, “I bet in another week, Old Lu will head back to Pengcheng. When he does, you’ll have to comfort him—don’t let him get too worked up. He’s a sensitive kid, prone to extremes.”

Lu Jinrong ignored Tian Shiwei’s ramblings and asked, “If Coach Li looks down on Rousseau so much, why keep him on the team?”

“To torment him, of course!”

“You think the national team coaches have that much time and energy to spare?”