110: Chapter 110 Afraid of trapping the eldest brother

Cheng Songyan had a stopwatch hanging around his neck, his thumb resting on the edge of the button.

Nine male guests plus three new Firefighters, twelve people in total, walked onto the track one after another.

The Level 2 Firefighter who had volunteered also followed, loosening his neck, looking relaxed.

Li Li stood in the outermost lane.

Shen Jue leaned over and asked in a low voice, "Brother Li, do you know what the perfect score for the 1000-meter Firefighter physical test is?"

"Three minutes and forty seconds."

"How do you know?"

Li Li turned his head to look at him, as if looking at a slow-witted child.

"You said it yourself just now."

Shen Jue thought about it; it seemed he really had let it slip himself.

Cheng Songyan walked to the inside of the track and raised his hand.

"Ready—"

The twelve people bent over, shifting their center of gravity forward.

The whistle blew.

The moment Li Li pushed off the ground, Shen Jue caught a glimpse of an afterimage shooting out from his left.

It wasn't "running."

It was a launch.

Before the first bend was even over, Li Li had already pulled 15 meters ahead of the others. 20 meters. And he was still accelerating.

The livestream chat exploded—

[Starting speed is this fierce???]

[Wait wait wait, is this a sprint or a 1000-meter run?!]

[Can the others catch up? Can they?]

Beside the playground, three Firefighters who hadn't been sent to participate sat on equipment boxes, watching the fun. The livestream microphone wasn't far from them, catching their audio perfectly.

A Level 3 Firefighter in a tank top patted the person next to him.

"You know the level of our tough guy Wang Gang, right?"

"Don't be stupid, Brother Gang is the station's 1000-meter king and muscle king. The perfect score line is 3:40, and he can finish in 3:10. He's won first place in the district-wide competition twice."

"Then this Li Li... starting so fiercely, he'll definitely collapse later. Too young, doesn't know how to pace himself."

The third Firefighter crossed his arms and curled his lip.

"He's an influencer, what the hell does he know about pacing."

The chat was instantly ignited by these three random Firefighters—

[Muscle King? And also the 1000-meter King? 3:10? Is he that fierce?]

[Makes sense, Li Li started too fast, he's definitely going to slow down in the second half.]

[The biggest taboo in running is sprinting too hard at the start, basic common sense.]

On the track, Wang Gang led the main group at a steady, unhurried pace. His stride frequency was absurdly stable, the interval between each step landing almost identical.

Following him were the three new Firefighters: Han Su, Qin Xiaoshan, and Zhong Ji, and behind them were Shen Jue and Ji Shen. Gu Zeyan gritted his teeth and followed in the second group, with Jiang Shiyu lagging half a step behind. Tao Qianzhi was at the very back, his steps not large, but his rhythm steady.

Everyone was running according to their own plan.

Only one person—was running in a way that didn't look like he was executing a plan at all.

It was closer to executing a goal.

First lap, 400 meters.

When Li Li flew past Cheng Songyan, Cheng Songyan looked down at his stopwatch.

55 seconds.

His thumb paused on the button, confirming it once more.

55 seconds for 400 meters.

Cheng Songyan looked up, staring at the back of the blue training uniform as it charged into the second lap.

If this pace is maintained, 1000 meters—two minutes and seventeen seconds?

Impossible.

It is impossible for a human to run 1000 meters at this speed without professional training.

He will definitely collapse.

When Wang Gang led the main group past the starting point, the stopwatch showed 1 minute 20 seconds.

It was a full 25 seconds slower than Li Li.

The lead distance had already stretched to over 120 meters.

The viewers in the livestream started to panic—

[Why hasn't he slowed down yet???]

[It's already the second lap and he's still that fast???]

[Didn't those Firefighters earlier say Li Li would collapse? Where are they? Keep analyzing!]

The camera cut to the three Firefighters on the sidelines.

The one in the tank top almost spat out his water.

"How... how is he still at that speed?"

The person next to him had his mouth open, unable to close it for a long time.

"This isn't right, this isn't right..."

The three of them collectively shut their mouths.

Meanwhile, over in the female guest observation area.

Su Nianzhi folded her hands in front of her, tilted her head slightly, and sighed to He Manzhou beside her.

The microphone picked it up clearly.

"So amazing... Brother Li is about to lap them."

Her tone dragged out a soft, sweet ending, precisely hitting the optimal position for the livestream audio.

The chat instantly changed flavor—

[Brother Li? When did they get so close?]

[So~ a~ ma~ zing~ learned it, learned it.]

["So amazing" (Green Tea standard reading version).]

[I said "so amazing" to my best friend in Su Nianzhi's tone and got hit.]

He Manzhou stood nearby, not responding.

She lowered her head, pretending to tie her shoelaces, and moved half a step to the side.

On the track.

When Li Li crossed the 800-meter mark, Cheng Songyan pressed the stopwatch for the second time.

Exactly 2 minutes.

He flipped the stopwatch over and back, confirming he hadn't pressed the wrong button.

Exactly 2 minutes, 800 meters.

The pace dropped from 55 seconds/400 meters to 65 seconds/400 meters—it dropped, but it dropped extremely evenly. It wasn't a cliff-like collapse, but a controlled deceleration.

This person is pacing himself.

The camera gave Cheng Songyan a close-up of his face.

The Level 4 Commander, a man cold enough to freeze mosquitoes, was currently looking down at the stopwatch, his Adam's apple bobbing twice.

The chat exploded—

[Captain Cheng meme screenshot captured.]

[I feel like I'm seeing my math teacher's face when I checked my college entrance exam scores.]

[The national first-class athlete standard for 800 meters is 1 minute 54 seconds... He ran this two-minute time while carrying the sprint of the first 400 meters, just think about that.]

The last 200 meters.

Everyone saw that Li Li's speed had obviously decreased. His stride frequency slowed down, his stride length shortened, and the back of his blue training uniform no longer had the crushing pressure of the first 800 meters.

"Can't do it anymore, right?" The Firefighter in the tank top finally regained some confidence. "See, I told you he couldn't keep it up—"

"Wait a second."

The person next to him patted him and pointed to the front of the track.

Tao Qianzhi.

A 38-year-old B-list actor, his steps weren't large but his rhythm was steady, and he was currently inching forward in last place.

At Li Li's previous speed, if he didn't slow down for the last 200 meters—

He would catch up to Tao Qianzhi before the finish line.

Lapping him.

On a national broadcast, lapping a 38-year-old man.

"He wouldn't be... slowing down on purpose, would he?"

The three Firefighters looked at each other, and none of them spoke again.

Someone in the livestream also realized it—

[Wait, look at Tao Qianzhi's position.]

[If Li Li didn't slow down, he really would have passed Tao Qianzhi before the finish line.]

[So he slowed down to save face for Tao Qianzhi???]

[Goodness, his physical strength is overflowing to the point where he can choose whether to slow down or not?]

Li Li crossed the finish line.

Cheng Songyan stopped the stopwatch.

2 minutes 32 seconds.

The whole playground fell silent for a beat.

Cheng Songyan stared at the number, his lips moved, but he couldn't say anything.

2 minutes 32 seconds—the national second-class athlete standard for 1000 meters.

Not more, not less, right on the line for second-class.

It wasn't that he collapsed and happened to land on this score; that deceleration curve was extremely smooth, the finish was extremely precise—it was "just right."

Like someone who could get a perfect score, but intentionally erased a few questions after finishing the paper.

The chat went completely out of control—

[2 minutes 32 seconds????? National second-class athlete????? He took the test cold without any preparation!!!]

[The others trained for two months, he didn't know anything, took it cold, and then ran a national second-class time.]

[The most terrifying thing isn't the score, it's that he was clearly controlling his speed at the end.]

Three minutes later, Wang Gang crossed the finish line.

3 minutes 25 seconds.

It was 15 seconds slower than his usual time. The 1000-meter King's rhythm had been completely disrupted by the unreasonable lead Li Li had set in the first half.

Wang Gang supported himself on his knees, panting for half a minute, sweat dripping from his chin onto the floor tiles. He straightened up, scanned the area, and found Li Li standing by the side of the track.

He walked over in three steps.

He gave a thumbs up, interspersed with heavy panting.

"Buddy... awesome."

Li Li waved his hand and took half a step back.

"No, no, I'm too tired, I'm really dying. I can only run this one time, next time it definitely won't work."

Wang Gang, bent over, glanced up through his sweat-dripping eyelashes.

Li Li stood in front of him.

His breathing was steady.

Forehead—dry.

Neck—dry.

Front of training uniform—dry.

Even the collar wasn't wet.

Wang Gang slowly straightened his back.

Stared for three seconds.

Pursed his lips, turned around, and walked away. He didn't say another word.

The others crossed the line one after another: Han Su 3:31, Qin Xiaoshan 3:38, Zhong Ji 3:39—all three new Firefighters made it within the perfect score line.

Shen Jue and Gu Zeyan crossed the line almost simultaneously, at 3:42 and 3:43; the two glared at each other, neither willing to concede.

Ji Shen 3:58, Jiang Shiyu 4:11.

Finally, Tao Qianzhi, 4:15, crossed the finish line steadily, bent over supporting his knees, and panted for over ten seconds before standing straight.

He didn't know he had almost been lapped.

But when he passed Li Li, Li Li held out a fist to him.

Tao Qianzhi was stunned for a moment, then bumped it back.

No one told him what had happened. Nor did they need to.

Cheng Songyan picked up the clipboard and wrote down in the first column—Li Li: 15 points.

According to the scoring rules, for every 5 seconds under the perfect score, 1 point is added, up to a maximum of 15 points. Capped.

The pen tip lingered on the paper for an extra second.

He looked up. By the track, Li Li was taking a water cup handed to him by Shen Jue and taking a sip.

Not a single drop of sweat.

On the playground, the Firefighter in the tank top huddled behind the equipment box, exchanging a look with the other two.

"The 1000-meter King was crushed by an influencer."

"Stop talking."

"And he didn't even sweat."

"I said stop talking."

Shen Jue ran over holding a water cup, looking excited.

"Brother Li! Why did you slow down at the end just now? If you had gone faster, wouldn't you have broken three minutes?"

Li Li took it and took another sip.

"My legs went soft."

Shen Jue looked him up and down. Forehead, dry. Collar, dry. Chest, no movement at all.

"...Brother Li, do you have some misunderstanding about the word 'legs went soft'?"

Li Li ignored him and turned to look at the clipboard in Cheng Songyan's hand.

Next item—horizontal bar pull-ups.

He loosened his shoulders.

Cheng Songyan was also watching him.

Their gazes met.

Cheng Songyan looked away first, lowered his head, and wrote a note in the corner of the clipboard.

The handwriting was very small.

But the camera's telephoto lens captured it—someone in the livestream took a screenshot and zoomed in.

It had a line of text written on it:

**"This person's physical fitness to be discussed separately."**

Cheng Songyan clipped the pen back onto the clipboard and flipped to the next page.

The perfect score standard for horizontal bar pull-ups was clearly listed—

10 consecutive repetitions.

He didn't look up, but the pen in his hand spun once.