Chapter Thirty: Brothers in Adversity

The team members eyed Geng Haoshi eagerly, while Geng Haoshi stared back in terror, pointing shakily behind them. What filled Geng Haoshi with such dread was none other than their stunning coach, Manman Yu—her long, snowy legs, black leopard-print underwear, and proud curves... Suddenly, two streams of nosebleed gushed from Geng Haoshi’s nostrils.

“Beau...ti...ful...coach...” Geng Haoshi stammered, uttering the words with a trembling voice before collapsing backward, nose still bleeding profusely.

Hearing his words, the team members were startled, cold sweat trickling down their backs as they slowly turned to glance behind.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Cries of pain echoed as Manman Yu, her face thunderous, lashed out with her whip—each strike precise and merciless, not missing a single one.

Apart from Geng Haoshi, who had already fainted, the rest were each struck so that their dignity was left in tatters.

“All of you, get to the school’s track and run a marathon!” she barked. “Don’t come back if you can’t finish!”

With that, Manman Yu pulled out her phone and called the stadium manager, instructing him to open the gates for twelve members of the school’s basketball team. She also ordered him to activate the surveillance cameras to record every moment of their marathon run.

Seeing Geng Haoshi still lying there, blood oozing from his nose, Manman Yu strode over and cracked her whip down upon him.

Smack!

“Aaah—!”

Whether by intention or accident, the lash landed squarely in Geng Haoshi’s most sensitive spot.

Like a corpse jolted back to life, Geng Haoshi sat bolt upright, clutching his groin with both hands, eyes wide, mouth agape—his expression one of utter despair, as though his youth was slipping away, never to return.

But as he sat up, Manman Yu’s alluring curves came into view once more... and two fresh streams of nosebleed burst forth.

“Hurry up and join the others at the track!” Manman Yu’s murderous glare sent Geng Haoshi dashing out of the gym in his boxers.

“Damn it’s cold!” Geng Haoshi hugged himself, shivering violently, but dared not return for his clothes.

Shaking all over, he caught up with the other eleven teammates.

“Hey, Geng, you’re something else—running a marathon shirtless.”

“What marathon?” Geng Haoshi, having just regained consciousness, had missed the coach’s orders.

“The coach told us to run a marathon and has someone monitoring us with cameras,” Zhu Di sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s hope I live to see tomorrow’s sun.”

“By the way, you still haven’t answered my question!” Zhu Di pressed on, not forgetting, “Come on, how did you do it?”

Sighing, Geng Haoshi realized he couldn’t dodge the question. “Do you guys believe I’m an alien?”

“Not a chance!” Zhu Di rapped Geng Haoshi on the head.

“Take it easy, Zhu Di, I wasn’t finished.” Geng Haoshi rubbed his sore head. “If I’m not an alien, what else could it be?”

The team fell silent, shaking their heads.

“It’s all due to my own willpower and relentless effort!” Geng Haoshi declared, looking at them with exasperation. “You call yourselves athletes, yet you don’t even understand this?”

Inwardly: Willpower? Nonsense!

Relentless effort? Nonsense!

The teammates didn’t believe him for a second but had no way to refute him.

“Well, since the beautiful coach wants us to run a marathon, let’s show our unyielding masculinity and spend our fervent youth sweating it out!” Geng Haoshi thought to himself: In any case, I have to complete two sets of 5,000 meters every day. Running with so many companions tonight isn’t so bad. It’s only ten fifty-something now, still more than an hour until tomorrow. Best to start slow.

Truth be told, Geng Haoshi’s long-standing ignorance of athletics meant he only knew marathons were long-distance races—he had no idea exactly how long.

Soon, the twelve members of the basketball team arrived at the school’s track.

The stadium manager stood at the open gate, still visibly annoyed from being called in unexpectedly. Suddenly, he spotted Geng Haoshi. “Aren’t you that fat kid who sneaked onto the track at night last time?!”

The manager was none other than Old He, who had chased Geng Haoshi all night and ended up with acute appendicitis.

Old grudges flared anew. “You nearly killed me, you little brat!”

The team members all glanced at Geng Haoshi, wondering if he had homicidal tendencies.

Seeing their looks, Geng Haoshi hurried to clarify, “Old He, it was all a misunderstanding. It’s in the past—let bygones be bygones.”

Let bygones be bygones? Is this kid out of his mind? Last time he brought a girl here at night—almost certainly to do some indecent things. He must be a real pervert. Best not to get involved with him, Old He thought, clearing his throat. “Fine, I’ll let it go,” he muttered, allowing them in.

Night blanketed the sky, stars twinkled above. On the track, the team members stretched and warmed up.

“Do you think we can actually finish?” Substitute point guard Chen Yu looked as if he’d seen a ghost before they’d even started.

“There’s a camera on us—if we don’t finish, we’ll be kicked off the team,” Captain Meng Lang sighed. Even as the fittest and strongest among them, this was his first marathon, and he wasn’t at all confident he could make it.

“Is a marathon really that hard?” Geng Haoshi asked, puzzled.

The team fell silent.

“Geng, don’t tell me you really don’t know what a marathon is?” Xu Gaofeng asked.

“Nope,” Geng Haoshi admitted, without a trace of embarrassment.

“Well then, let me tell you a bit about its history,” Xu cleared his throat. “Once, a man had to deliver a message. He ran and ran and ran—until he dropped dead.”

Geng Haoshi stared, bewildered. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

History narrated like this? Geng Haoshi wondered what ‘history’ itself would think.

“And the marathon?”

“To commemorate him, people created the marathon.”

“Oh.” Geng Haoshi felt unconvinced but decided not to dwell on it. “So how far is a marathon, exactly?”

“Forty-two kilometers.”

“How much is that?”

Xu Gaofeng grinned. “That’s forty-two thousand meters.”

“Forty-two thousand meters?!” Geng Haoshi’s jaw nearly hit the ground. Two daily sets of 5,000 meters was only ten thousand; forty-two thousand meters was four days’ worth of running! At three in the morning, Goddess Mimi will be waiting for me by the artificial lake… but will I even survive until then?