Chapter 1: Against All Odds

 

"It's so hot."

The moment Rona stepped out of the car, the heatwave hit her like a wall. The recent temperatures were no joke—nearly October, yet walking in the sun still felt like being a steak on a griddle. The roadside grass drooped miserably. Everyone looked like they'd been dipped in oil.

"Go, go, go inside!" Director Wang urged, already drenched in sweat. His white shirt had gone translucent, revealing the flesh-toned undershirt beneath.

Rona followed, watching the fat on Director Wang's body jiggle with each trotting step. He resembled a steamed bun left too long in the sun. She found herself lamenting the ruthlessness of time. In his youth, Wang Qilin had been quite handsome—a natural sprinter whose peak physique was the envy of many. But two decades of retirement and desk work had transformed that enviable figure from sword to shield.

"I'm going to contact their coach. Wait here for me." Wang Qilin stepped aside to make a call.

Rona pulled down the brim of her cap, trying to block the scorching sun.

Not far away, several high school girls played badminton. Colorful banners draped across the teaching building behind them, and large balloons bobbed above, all emblazoned with slogans celebrating No. 3 Middle School's Sports Day. It was lunch break now, and students wandered from the playground direction in chattering clusters of three or five.

Rona hugged her arms and leaned beneath a large tree to watch the girls play, recalling her own school days. She'd probably been just like them once—tireless, full of vitality, impervious to heat and cold.

She yawned, waiting.

The afternoon yawn was a blessing from God—she opened her mouth without restraint, her eyes following the badminton shuttle as it arced higher. At the peak of her yawn, the shuttlecock also reached its apex, perfectly synchronized in a moment of sublime comfort. Just as she was about to let her breath fall with the descending shuttle, a shadow flashed through her peripheral vision.

Really just a shadow—so fast she barely registered it. He ran full-tilt toward the girl holding the racket, leaped up, stretched out his arm, and snatched the shuttlecock from its commanding height. The entire sequence flowed with liquid grace, like a monkey plucking the moon from the sky.

That hang time. That vertical leap.

Rona removed her sunglasses.

In the brilliant sunlight, the boy wore gold-and-black sportswear, his torso slender and light beneath the vest. Black compression shorts wrapped around firm buttocks and thighs, every muscle perfectly proportioned. His ankles were delicately shaped, his Achilles tendon slender yet powerful, his entire calf smoothly defined. He held the shuttlecock in his right hand, a pair of spikes in his left. Rona focused intently—seven spikes in the forefoot, four in the back.

High jump spikes.

Rona replaced her sunglasses and whistled involuntarily.

The whistle caught the boy's attention. He turned, spotted someone watching from the shade, grinned, grabbed both sides of his vest, and bowed theatrically toward Rona.

The badminton-playing girl was not amused. She shouted at him: "Duan Yucheng, you lunatic! Why are your paws always grabbing everything!"

The boy flinched at her roar. "Oh, I'll give it back." He returned the shuttle to the two girls, who howled when they received it. "You crushed the feathers!"

Duan Yucheng ran away.

The girl stamped her foot in frustration. "Bastard! You deserve to be the eternal runner-up! Just wait for this afternoon's finals—you're going to lose!"

Duan Yucheng laughed and turned back.

"I'll win it for you! Don't leave this afternoon—come cheer me on! Hey—" He walked backward, bouncing the whole way, accidentally tripping over a drainage grate. He twisted his body to correct his center of gravity, calling out: "Don't forget! Come cheer me on!"

The girls were charmed by him, their eyes full of affection, their anger completely dissolved.

Rona clicked her tongue twice, paying tribute to beautiful youth.

"I'm back." Wang Qilin returned from his call, still sweating. "He said he'd take us to lunch first, but who can eat in this heat? I said let's just watch a couple events. What do you think?"

"Can't eat either. Let's go inside."

The two headed toward the playground. The closer they got, the more they could feel the competitive atmosphere. No. 3 Middle School recruited sports students every year and ranked among the city's top high schools for athletics. Competition at their sports meet was fierce. Their timing was good—the morning preliminaries had already screened out the high-level athletes, saving them considerable trouble.

The playground filled with the smell of rubber and sweat. Rona casually picked up a discarded promotional poster from the ground and folded it into a makeshift fan. Lunch break was ending, and referees and recorders arrived at the venue one after another. The announcer on the rostrum tapped the microphone, instructing idle personnel to return to their class sections quickly.

Rona and Wang Qilin waited on the sidelines. Wang Qilin adjusted his glasses and carefully reviewed the documents in his hand. Rona looked around. The field had nearly cleared. She touched the plastic surface with her hand—the track had been baking in the sun all day, hot to the touch.

The first afternoon event was the 400-meter final, the senior group running last.

Wang Qilin and Rona had come specifically for the senior class athletes. Rona scanned the eight competitors on the track, her attention drawn to the third lane figure wearing a yellow vest. It was the boy who'd caught the shuttlecock earlier. Rona felt puzzled—wasn't he a high jumper? How was he running the 400 meters?

Under the referee's instructions, the athletes took their positions. Wang Qilin pulled out his stopwatch.

The starting gun fired, and the teenagers exploded forward like arrows released from their strings. After the morning preliminaries, the afternoon track featured athletes with genuine skill, but from 150 meters onward, distances slowly widened, revealing who the specialized athletes were. Rona's eyes remained fixed on Duan Yucheng. Judging from his running form and energy distribution, his 400 meters had solid foundation—he ran neck-and-neck with the athletes in lanes four and six for the first 300 meters. However, he fell behind in the final 100 meters, finishing third.

Rona turned to Wang Qilin.

"How was it?"

"52.7, 53.3."

"What about third place?"

"Didn't catch it exactly. Around 53.8 seconds."

Rona nodded thoughtfully.

Wang Qilin wiped his sweat again, consulted the information sheet once more, and asked Rona: "What do you think? These top two specialize in the 400 meters. Liu Jie, who took first, has run 51.68 seconds at the city competition—his personal best."

"Does he have any other events?"

"No. Only his 400 meters reaches second-level standards. The second-place runner also does the 200 meters."

"What about third place?"

"Third? Third doesn't seem to be a track runner, wait, let me check..." Wang Qilin flipped through his documents several times before finding Duan Yucheng. "It's this kid. He's a high jumper."

Rona took the data book.

Wang Qilin's information binder was thick, containing data on hundreds of high school sports students. No. 3 Middle School alone had over forty entries, including twelve in track and field. Rona noticed Duan Yucheng's information placed relatively late, indicating Wang Qilin hadn't favored him highly in the first screening round.

The data book included a two-inch photo of Duan Yucheng. His smile radiated sunshine—the contagious kind that made you smile back automatically. Compared to other athletes, Duan Yucheng had fairer skin and slightly longer hair, specially styled for the photo. His eyes weren't large, but they sparkled with spirit. His features appeared light and delicate, possessing that well-behaved handsomeness unique to young men.

After admiring the photo, Rona scanned his information again and understood why Wang Qilin wasn't optimistic about him—

Duan Yucheng was too short.

Net height: 179 centimeters. Decent enough among ordinary people, acceptable in track events, manageable for throws, even passable for long jump. But for high jump? This height was brutal.

Duan Yucheng's personal best was 1.95 meters, achieved at the recent Municipal Middle School Games where he'd placed second. Liu Shan, who'd taken first, had cleared 2 meters. He was also a No. 3 Middle School student, stood 192 centimeters tall, and was the primary focus of Wang Qilin's visit.

Rona knew Wang Qilin well enough—for high jump, he basically didn't consider athletes under 190 centimeters.

The broadcaster announced the long jump final results. Rona had a premonition. When she looked up, she spotted that bright figure at the long jump venue again. This time, however, Duan Yucheng wasn't competing—he was cheering on his classmates.

Wang Qilin was waiting for the 800-meter final. Rona said to him: "I'll head over there. Be back later."

The long jump venue buzzed with activity, a crowd of idle students surrounding the sand pit. Duan Yucheng was the most conspicuous, standing beside the runway cheering for every athlete. When a classmate from his own class appeared, Duan Yucheng raised his arms and hollered, then clapped hard and bent forward.

"Come on, Da Liu!"

Rona glanced over. Da Liu, preparing at the starting point, was clearly not an athlete. Quite tall, but with a loose build, wearing black-framed glasses—he looked like a scholar. He seemed embarrassed by the audience's stares and hesitated for a long time without taking a step. Duan Yucheng stood beside the sand pit and cupped his palm into a megaphone shape. "Come on! Relax!"

Da Liu only grew more nervous.

The atmosphere in the arena was electric. The referee pointed at Duan Yucheng while fanning himself, scolding: "You! Move aside! Don't interfere with the competition!"

Duan Yucheng obediently moved two centimeters sideways—his interpretation of "moving aside."

Under everyone's gaze, Da Liu finally began his approach. Spectators on both sides of the runway followed him with their eyes, necks swiveling from right to left. Probably due to excessive nerves, Da Liu's legs visibly weakened when he hit the board. His body lost balance, and he traced a stiff arc through the air before landing half a meter short of the pit.

Everyone: "......"

Duan Yucheng scratched the tip of his nose.

Da Liu felt mortified, turning red as a cooked shrimp, burying his head as he shuffled to the back. Duan Yucheng walked over and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, just didn't execute well. You'll get it next time." They passed by Rona, and Duan Yucheng happened to glance up and see her. He still remembered her vaguely, smiled politely, then resumed comforting Da Liu. "Remember when we practiced on the weekend—pay attention to your step count and your takeoff angle. Don't panic. Why do you always panic..."

In the midst of his rambling instructions, the broadcaster crackled to life again.

"Athletes participating in the high jump final, please report to the inspection office."

Rona understood why Duan Yucheng couldn't double in long jump—scheduling conflict.

After hearing the broadcast, Duan Yucheng released Da Liu, stretched his arms overhead, and did a few spot jumps. "I've got a competition. Good luck." He jogged toward the inspection office, still calling back to Da Liu: "Remember—don't panic! Focus on the whole movement! Stay tight! And also—"

Da Liu was about to be ground to death by him, waving vigorously. "Just go! I jump way better without you!"

Duan Yucheng grinned and ran off.

Rona felt the corners of her mouth curve slightly upward as she followed that lively, vigorous figure back toward the high jump venue.

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