Chapter Eighty-One: Reactions

Rousseau had expected his act of rebellion to provoke a more intense reaction. But nothing of the sort happened. No one came to talk to him. Not a single reporter sought further interviews. It was as if the entire incident had never occurred. Rousseau found it rather astonishing. Clearly, he was still a small fish, unable to stir up any real waves.

Forget it, he thought. Back to Pengcheng.

With the short-distance events at the East Youth Games concluded, the national team could now be disbanded. Even if it weren’t, after Rousseau’s bold words at the press conference, he had no intention of returning. His experience with the national team had been far from pleasant. Although he had managed to stand up for himself at the press conference, before that, Lu Jinrong had already told him that it was unlikely they could topple Li Yan in one move. From Lu Jinrong’s perspective, he advised Rousseau to compromise rather than fight—after all, with Rousseau’s current achievements, Li Yan wouldn’t dare do anything drastic to him.

But Rousseau refused to comply. The very thought was repulsive.

The day after the press conference, just as Rousseau was about to return to Pengcheng with Lu Jinrong, someone finally came looking for him. Dong Zijian approached him, saying that Li Yan wanted to talk.

“Coach Li believes there’s some misunderstanding between you. A conversation could clarify many things,” Dong said.

“There’s no need,” Rousseau replied, shaking his head. “Li Yan isn’t important to me. Without him… Coach Dong, don’t you think that the national sprint team would be better off without Li Yan?”

Dong Zijian couldn’t help but smile wryly at Rousseau’s words. That grudge was deep.

“Coach Dong, do you really support Li Yan’s training methods for the national team?” Rousseau pressed.

Dong couldn’t answer; he truly didn’t approve, but… there was nothing he could do. Rousseau’s words—“Dong Zijian is better suited to be head coach”—didn’t mean he could actually take the position. Without Li Yan, there were still plenty of domestic coaches waiting in line; Dong Zijian was hardly a contender.

“Without the national team’s support, you won’t be able to compete in certain international events, like the World Championships. That would hinder your progress and affect the country’s honor. If you rejoin the national team, you’ll surely be valued,” Dong tried to persuade Rousseau.

But even if he were treated like royalty, Rousseau would refuse to return to the national team. He simply shook his head and said, “Coach Dong, I have a rather immature idea. Look: I plan to win the 100-meter championship at the National Games, aiming for a time of 10.20 seconds. Then, in the first half of 2005, I’ll compete in some international athletics meets, boost my ranking into the top 20, and thus qualify for the Golden League in the second half of the year. I hope to push my 100-meter and 200-meter times to 10 seconds and 20 seconds respectively in the Golden League. That way, at the 2006 Asian Games, I’ll achieve a breakthrough.

Whether it’s the 100 meters or 200 meters, if I break 10 seconds or 20 seconds in either, I’ll bring home a sprint gold medal the country has never had before.”

Dong Zijian looked at Rousseau. He was supposed to find this ridiculous, but seeing the earnestness in the young man’s eyes, he realized Rousseau was utterly sincere.

“So, think about it—come be my coach,” Rousseau said. “Even part-time is fine. I can’t afford your salary, nor do I have the audacity to ask you to quit the national team, but perhaps you could guide me now and then?”

Dong Zijian fell silent.

After Dong left, Rousseau sat in the hotel bar, drinking coffee that was a bit pricey for him. Since he’d ordered it, he had to finish it, though it tasted awful.

Suddenly, someone else sat across from him. Rousseau looked up to see Zhang Zhen.

Little Nezha glared at him. “You think you can win the 100-meter championship at the National Games? Dream on! Did you even ask if I’d let you? Don’t kid yourself! You can’t beat me, and you sure can’t beat Pan Kai!”

With a snort, Zhang Zhen threw down these words and stood to leave.

“Wait,” Rousseau called after him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came with Coach Dong. Mind your own business,” Zhang Zhen sneered. “Traitor!”

Where did that come from? As Zhang Zhen headed out, Rousseau called him back once more. “Zhang Zhen, are you forgetting something?”

Huh?

Zhang Zhen froze.

“Remember our bet? You got the bronze, I got the gold. So…?” Rousseau prompted.

Zhang Zhen’s face flushed crimson. He stared at Rousseau, eyes nearly blazing, and after a moment, his mouth moved, uttering something barely audible.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that,” Rousseau feigned ignorance.

“…Brother!” Zhang Zhen shouted, then spun around and ran off.

Rousseau was pretty sure the kid was crying.

Sigh… That was a bit much, Rousseau told himself.

Thus ended Rousseau’s unforgettable journey at the East Youth Games.

He and Lu Jinrong took a flight back to Pengcheng. Tian Shiwei and Juno would return to the training base first, then disband, as a sign that they were still a team.

Before boarding, Lu Jinrong bought a stack of newspapers.

On the flight, he leafed through them one by one, showing any news related to Rousseau. Of course, none of the papers mentioned Rousseau’s rebellious “declaration” from that night; they simply reported his victory in the 200-meter event at the East Youth Games, noting he nearly broke the record. No one even mentioned that with this performance, Rousseau was now indisputably the top domestic athlete in the 200 meters.

That was both normal and unusual. Normal, because Rousseau’s outrageous statements were unlikely to be reported—he simply didn’t carry enough weight yet. Unusual, because the reports were not negative.

“Looks like the national team hasn’t blacklisted you,” Lu Jinrong remarked.

“How can you tell?” Rousseau asked, unable to glean Lu’s meaning from the papers.

“They’re still reporting on you, and positively at that, but not with any sensationalism. It means the national team wants to smooth things over, pretend nothing happened. If they wanted to blacklist you, they’d report you refusing the national team’s call-up.”

“No wonder Li Yan wanted to talk,” Rousseau said.

“I spoke to Director Chen yesterday. The Pengcheng Sports Committee supports you, but your results are key, especially the 100 meters,” Lu Jinrong explained. “Pengcheng wants to bid for a top-tier athletics event, but hasn’t received approval from World Athletics yet. If you make it into next year’s Golden League and achieve great results, it’ll be a huge boost, drawing World Athletics’ attention to Pengcheng.”

Rousseau nodded. That was absolutely right. Performance was everything.

He was determined to achieve results so dazzling that no one could ignore him.