Chapter 3: Promises in the Sunlight

                      

Rona tidied up expressionlessly for a moment and stood.

Duan Yucheng quickly assured, “Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.”

Good—he hadn’t seen.

Just as she was about to leave, Duan Yucheng spoke first. “Sister sunglasses, are you the coach from University A?”

…Hadn’t he just said he didn’t see?

Unable to hold back, he laughed, leaning closer. “Are you here to recruit special students? Track and field? High jump? What do you think of me?”

Buzzing like a little bee.

Rona glanced at him. “Don’t you still have a competition? Why are you here?”

“Ah.” He suddenly remembered, stretching out his hand. “I came to give you this.”

Rona looked calmly at the ice cream in his hand. “You shouldn’t eat cold things after strenuous exercise.”

“I know. I didn’t eat it—it’s for you. Thanks for your advice just now.”

“….”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like strawberry flavor?”

Not that either.

Rona accepted it. Duan Yucheng took another sip of milk, closed the lid, and stood aside waiting.

“Did you see me jump two meters just now?”

Rona panicked. “No.”

“What a pity. I was like a god today.”

He seemed to have endless energy, talking nonstop about his jump while Rona ate.

“My run-up was always wrong—blindly accelerating. The coach kept saying there should be rhythm, but I couldn’t change it.”

“You can’t accelerate blindly,” Rona said, peeling the wrapper. “Control your speed. Slow at first, then with your explosiveness, push in the last four steps. Tilt the run-up arc inward… Why are you looking at me like that?”

His eyes narrowed. He bent down to meet hers. “You really are University A’s coach.”

After finishing, Rona folded the wrapper. Without changing expression, Duan Yucheng held out his palm. She placed it there. He went to throw it away, then returned with more questions.

“You just watched the high jump. Did you take a fancy to Liu Shan?”

This kid was sharp.

She replied in an official tone, kind but distant. “I don’t know. Admissions aren’t my responsibility. The school has its own considerations. You just need to compete seriously.”

“You like Liu Shan,” he said, smiling with a trace of complexity. “But I won today.”

“Your performance was excellent. Skills are solid. With training, you’ll improve further.”

He stared at her. “If I were the same height as Liu Shan, who would you choose?”

Rona sighed inwardly. Youth was all straight balls.

“Our admissions consider more than height. Whether Liu Shan is chosen hasn’t been decided. Don’t overthink—focus on training.”

She prayed he’d run his 100 meters soon.

“Not because of height?”

“No.”

Three seconds of silence—then Duan Yucheng burst out laughing. His laughter was crisper than birdsong.

“Sister sunglasses, you can’t lie—it’s written all over your face.”

Rona forced calm.

“It’s okay.” He adjusted quickly, sweeping away the moment. “Just say it’s not about height. I’m used to it.”

Rona felt a flicker of sadness.

The broadcaster announced the 100-meter final.

“Aren’t you competing? Go.”

“Okay.”

He walked toward the track, then turned back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Don’t move.” He raised his hand carefully, pinching the bridge of her sunglasses with thumb and finger, lifting them slightly like a veil. He bent down, peering in from below.

Without the barrier, his eyes were clear as glass beads.

Looking at her, he whispered, “Wow…”

He lowered the frame, straightened, scratched his head, eyes darting everywhere but at her.

Rona smiled. “What’s wrong?”

“…It’s hot. Really hot today.” He fanned himself, twitching his face until he looked normal again.

Rona watched with a smile.

The broadcaster repeated the 100-meter announcement. He had to leave. Walking backward toward the venue, he called out: “University A has always been my first choice! I’ll definitely go! I’ve seen your face clearly—when I get there, I’ll find you on the track team!”

Rona smiled silently.

He ran farther, still smiling faintly, finally shouting: “It doesn’t matter if you want me or not—I’ll go anyway! Listen! It’s willing—determined—go!”

He shouted and ran into the sunlight.

Rona stood for half a minute, then went to find Wang Qilin.

Wang Qilin was eating iced watermelon with Coach Yang. He introduced, “This is our new coach, Rona. She just returned from abroad. Her father, Luo Shoumin, is a famous sportsman who’s trained many champions.”

Rona wanted to mention Duan Yucheng, but there was no chance. After polite greetings, they went to watch the 100m final.

Sprint was weak at No. 3, only one special athlete. The rest were cross-trained. Among them—Duan Yucheng.

Rona’s eyes stayed on him. He warmed up, prepared, then the gun fired. He accelerated, crossed the finish line.

The sun blazed, the wind carried youth’s fragrance.

The atmosphere soared. Duan Yucheng, first place, gestured a heart toward his class stands. Girls screamed.

Rona remembered her father’s words: “A good athlete’s energy must be upward—positive, optimistic, tenacious. Even at low points, he shines. Look at him as you look at the sun.”

She turned to Wang Qilin, about to speak. He waved, understanding, patting her shoulder in comfort before leaving with Coach Yang.

Rona stood a moment, sighing deeply. “What a pity.”

After leaving No. 3, she and Wang Qilin visited another school, busy until evening. Exhausted, Rona showered, declined dinner, and collapsed into sleep.

She woke to a call—Wu Ze, sprint coach at University A, her senior from sports school.

“Still sleeping?” “No…” “I’m downstairs with ice powder.”

Her eyes lit up. She rushed down in camisole and shorts. Her tall, athletic figure contrasted sharply with softer female teachers.

Wu Ze was smoking. He handed her the ice powder. They walked outside as she ate.

“Tired today?” “It’s okay.” “Too hot.” “Yes.”

They wandered to the stadium. Students ran, mostly girls chasing fitness.

On the stands, opposite the 100m track, a thin boy practiced. Wu Ze shouted, “Swing your arms! What are you doing with your hands!”

The boy froze, terrified, and slipped away.

Rona glared. “You’re sick! You scared him.”

Wu Ze snorted. “Skinny monkey. Run a fart.” He lit another cigarette.

Rona asked, “What’s the golden height for 100m?”

“Internationally, about 1.85m. Domestically, 1.80–1.85m.”

She tapped her spoon. “But the fastest aren’t in that range.”

“You mean Bolt? Special case.” “Su Bingtian is only 1.72m.” “Also special.”

Rona giggled.

“What’s funny? Special is special. Too tall or too short isn’t ideal. Short stride length, tall stride frequency too slow. But if you must choose, taller is better. Why ask?”

“Not much.” She finished the ice powder, stretched, gazed at the starry sky. “Competitive sports are cruel.”

“What?” “I said ice powder is delicious.”

She walked off. Wu Ze followed. “Let’s buy another bowl.” “No.” “You didn’t eat dinner.” “Too hot.” “Ice powder cools.” “Why talk so much!” “Okay, I’ll stop.” “…Forget it. Let’s get another bowl.” “Tsk.”

The night breeze carried their banter.

The day’s impressions lingered, but soon faded. Rona treated it as a small episode, forgotten—until ten months later, when she saw Duan Yucheng again on campus, and the summer memories returned.\

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