Chapter 79: Go, Wild Kid!
1552 Words
The women’s 800‑meter run was in the morning, and the 3,000‑meter run was scheduled for the afternoon.
Luo Ye perched in the stands, eyes glued to the fairy senior at the starting line. He got so fired up he practically sprang to his feet.
Fortunately, Wang Da Chui’s strength was immense; he slammed Luo back into his seat.
Both of them sat there, staring intently at the rows of girls lining the track.
There were thirty‑six girls entered in the 800‑meter race.
The long‑distance event had only one round; everyone ran together and the winner was decided on the spot.
With a c***k of the starter g*n, all of the girls burst out of the blocks.
Yu Qiu Yu didn’t run the 800, so even the girl who led the pack never opened up a huge gap on the second‑place runner.
The crowd kept scanning the track for Su Bai Zhu, but Luo Ye had been watching her from the very first second.
Su Bai Zhu didn’t take the early lead, but she never fell out of the leading pack either—she stayed right behind the front runners, pacing herself smoothly.
The 800 meters on this 400‑meter field is just two laps, so essentially it’s a sprint from the get‑go; around the 200‑meter mark most runners start to ease off.
After the first lap, everyone was visibly tiring.
Without professional athletes or serious enthusiasts, Su Bai Zhu easily overtook the few ahead of her and surged into first place in the final 200 meters.
Remember, she’s been keeping up her morning runs for two years now. She may not have the absolute top speed, but when it comes to endurance, almost nobody can match her except the true pros.
When the fairy senior crossed into first and was only a hundred meters from the finish line, Wang Da Chui could no longer hold Luo down.
Luo leapt to his feet and thrust up the homemade sign he’d prepared.
It read “Su Bai Zhu, go!!!” in big block letters, with three massive exclamation points.
“Su Bai Zhu! Go!! Su Bai Zhu!! Go!!”
The shout rang out straight onto the track, right into Su Bai Zhu’s ears.
She didn’t look embarrassed; the voice actually sparked a rush of indescribable emotion inside her.
If you had to put that feeling into words, it would be…
She wanted to show her very best side to the person who had been watching her the whole time.
She took one final stride, crossed the red line, and the finish area erupted with cheering spectators.
Qin Yu Wen was there, arms wide, apparently ready to hug Su Bai Zhu the second she hit the line.
But Su Bai Zhu stopped in front of her, struck a wide‑winged pose, and asked, “Wen‑wen, what are you doing?”
Qin Yu Wen, embarrassed, drew her arms back, cleared her throat, and feigned casualness: “Congrats, Zhu‑zhu, you took first place.”
“Mm.”
Su Bai Zhu stood amid the crowd, lifted her gaze, and locked eyes with someone in the stands—Luo Ye.
They exchanged a look across more than a hundred meters of track.
For her, the 800 was just a warm‑up for the afternoon’s race.
From his seat, Luo Ye watched his senior claim first and felt a surge of excitement as if the victory were his own.
After the high, his nerves tightened.
The 3,000‑meter race was coming up that afternoon.
He’d prepared for weeks, and now the day was finally here; his stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and doubt.
But for the senior’s reward, he was determined to finish in the top three.
After a quick lunch, the clock struck three, and the next day’s events continued.
Luo Ye collected his bib number.
He inherited Wang Da Chui’s number—250—a slot Wang had specifically asked the student‑union staff to reserve for him.
“Wearing my number feels like I’m cheering on my own kid, hahaha.”
Wang Da Chui, sitting in the stands, finally couldn’t hold back, clutched his stomach, and burst out laughing.
Shen Qiao, Li Hao Yang, and a few others also took seats in the front row, ready to wave flags for Luo Ye.
The flags were handmade by Wang Da Chui; Li Hao Yang was the flag‑waver, and Shen Qiao handled the video, just like last time.
The 515 dorm’s sense of ceremony is something others can only envy.
Luo Ye stepped onto the track, eyes flicking to the brightly colored packets on the lanes, silently praying his friends wouldn’t embarrass him too badly.
The 3,000‑meter field drew about the same number of participants as the 800‑meter race—over thirty men, and a similar count of women, totaling more than sixty athletes.
On the men’s side, there were no separate lanes; all thirty‑plus runners jammed together at the start, forming three or four rows, waiting for the g*n.
A 3,000‑meter run on a 400‑meter track equals seven and a half laps—a pure test of stamina. Simply staying on your feet is an achievement.
Soon Liu Jiang Lai stepped up with the starter pistol, standing at the edge of the track.
He looked over the field and shouted, “On your marks!”
Luo Ye’s heart hammered. He stared down the lane, cleared his mind, and waited for his ears to catch the c***k of the g*n.
Bang!
In front of Liu Jiang Lai, the crowd surged forward in a synchronized rush.
Mèng Chāo, the track‑club president and a national‑level athlete, shattered expectations. He exploded out of the gate, pulling half the field’s length ahead of the runner‑up within the first lap, leaving the rest in his dust.
There was no doubt about his lead. Even when his speed eased on the second lap, his average pace still outstripped the average sprint of a regular runner.
Luo Ye, having spent a good amount of time with the track club, knew the importance of staying in the lead pack. He kept right behind the front five or six, refusing to fall back.
In the stands, Li Hao Yang waved his flag, Wang Da Chui brought a megaphone and shouted, “Go, Kid!”
Su Bai Zhu stood on the grass in the middle of the field, eyes never leaving Luo Ye as he ran.
Luo Ye was in eighth place at that moment.
Whether he could break into the top three depended on the last two laps.
Before long, Mèng Chāo had already finished.
The runner‑up still had a full lap to go.
The last‑place finisher had barely completed two laps.
The gap between the front and back was astronomical; it was like two different dimensions.
Some athletes chased rankings; others simply enjoyed the experience.
No one noticed that the very last finisher was the former deputy student‑union president, Wén Zhī Shū.
Even Luo Ye now opened a three‑lap lead over the pack.
The final lap was approaching.
He didn’t want to waste the effort he’d poured in over the past weeks.
Even if it meant grinding his teeth and drawing on every last ounce of energy, he would give it everything for a sprint finish on that last lap.
Luo Ye accelerated, quickly passing one competitor.
By the final lap’s sprint, he had moved up to fifth place—a result he hadn’t even dared to imagine a half‑month earlier.
He was now only two runners away from a podium spot.
He kept pushing.
Ahead, a runner sauntered almost as if he were taking a stroll.
It was the last‑place finisher, Wén Zhī Shū. Luo Ye was about to lap him again.
He caught Su Bai Zhu’s gaze in the middle of the field, but noticed her eyes were fixed on the space behind him.
Wén Zhī Shū turned, spotting the same freshman from before.
Su Bai Zhu’s look this time was something Luo Ye had never seen in the two years he’d known her.
A flash of determination crossed his face. As Luo Ye prepared to overtake Wén Zhī Shū, the latter pretended to stumble, sliding sideways.
Luo Ye, in full sprint, felt his mind go blank, his focus narrowed to the track ahead.
Suddenly, his foot caught on something and he tumbled, the world spinning as he rolled across the track. When he came to, he was in pain, his only view the sky’s clouds.
A gasp rippled through the stands.
He’d taken a hard fall; the pain was obvious.
Wang Da Chui’s eyes flared with fury. He grabbed a grapefruit‑shaped megaphone and blurted profanities, “What the hell, you did that on purpose, you i***t?”
Shen Qiao and Li Hao Yang were equally incensed.
The three of them sprinted down from the stands.
Someone nearer to Luo Ye arrived even faster.
Before Luo knew it, Su Bai Zhu was already by his side.
- Writer
