Chapter 465: Snatching Talent

Chapter 465: The Scouting War

Ye Liwei, head coach of the national track and field team, walked into the Competitive Sports Department of the General Administration of Sport with a light, melodic hum on his lips. Like most other squads, the post-Olympic schedule was sparse; training had settled into a mundane routine, and many athletes had already returned to their respective provincial teams. The national camp had been a quiet, sparsely populated place for the better part of the last six months.

He was here today to coordinate the upcoming tournament schedules and to submit a newly approved roster of athletes selected for intensive training.

Accompanying him were the coaches and department heads from various disciplines: jumps, sprints and hurdles, middle- and long-distance marathons, race walking, the internal coaching group, and the throws department.

"Head down to the conference room first," Ye Liwei instructed.

After offering a few brief directions, he made his way toward the Competitive Sports Department's main office, while the rest of the cohort drifted toward another meeting room to prepare for the session ahead.

"Old Hu!"

Before he even reached the door, Ye Liwei spotted Hu Cunyong emerging from within. The two men had climbed the ranks together from the same sports school, once even sharing a set of bunk beds as roommates. Though their current administrative domains lay worlds apart, their bond had always remained steadfast. They visited each other's homes during holidays whenever time permitted, exchanged steady updates via WeChat when it didn't, and their wives and children were close friends.

"Humph!"

The moment Hu Cunyong caught sight of Ye Liwei, his countenance darkened instantly. He let out a sharp, dismissive grunt, leveled a glare fierce enough to kill, and swept past without another word.

"What kind of wrong medicine did he swallow today?"

Utterly bewildered, Ye Liwei stepped into the office and greeted the department director. He couldn't help but ask, "Old Liu, what's the deal? Did you rattle Old Hu’s cage again?"

Director Liu was a former wrestler and an old teammate of Hu Cunyong's. Every time they met, once official business was concluded, a relentless war of words was guaranteed to follow. Ye Liwei knew this dance all too well, hence his suspicion.

Director Liu let out a raspy, cackling laugh. "I’ll have you know, I didn't provoke that old mule this time!"

"If it wasn't you, then who else could it be?" Ye Liwei observed the peculiar, knowing smirk on Liu’s face and frowned. "Don't tell me it was me? It couldn't really be me, could it? I haven't done a thing to him! With a bullheaded temper like his, why would I ever look for trouble?"

Liu chuckled softly. "Oh, stop playing innocent! You’ve stumbled upon a literal treasure, and here you are, acting like the cat that got the cream! And you didn't just provoke Old Hu—this time, you’ve truly riled up the entire weightlifting, wrestling, and judo association!"

Hu Cunyong had come on behalf of the Weightlifting, Wrestling, and Judo Administration Center to issue a fierce warning, attempting to preemptively safeguard Meng Fan's schedule. Hearing this, Director Liu naturally assumed Ye Liwei’s camp had already reached out to the boy. Ye Liwei, however, listened in total confusion, entirely lost as to how the heavy-combat sports disciplines had anything to do with him.

"Hmm?"

Noticing Ye Liwei's genuine bewilderment, Director Liu immediately caught on. "You mean to tell me you really don't know?"

Seeing the blank stare deepen on the coach’s face, Liu grew even more animated. Well, now. This was getting highly entertaining!

Ye Liwei was completely oblivious to the situation surrounding Meng Fan, yet Hu Cunyong and his faction had rushed over to lay down the law first. It was a classic case of protesting too much, exposing their hand before any play had even been made.

If Hu's preemptive strike was the very thing that tipped Ye Liwei off about Meng Fan, this blunder would keep Liu laughing for a whole year—even if Ye Liwei was bound to discover the truth sooner or later anyway.

"Know what? Old Liu, you're driving me in circles here!"

"You honestly don't know? Heh heh heh... Well, it’s like this..." Director Liu rubbed his hands together, his grin stretching nearly from ear to ear. "Have you ever heard of Meng Fan?"

"How could I not? Out with it, man! What on earth happened?"

"Don't be impatient."

Rising slowly, Director Liu poured a cup of water for Ye Liwei. That done, he asked if the coach wanted tea and made motions to brew a fresh pot. When the offer was declined, he took his time preparing a cup for himself, gently blowing at the rising steam and the floating tea leaves, looking thoroughly pleased with life.

Just as the sixty-ninth urge to strangle Director Liu flashed through his mind, the director finally broke his silence and laid out the facts.

"Is that true?"

Seeing Liu nod in confirmation, Ye Liwei spun on his heel and marched right out the door, entirely forgetting what he had originally come to accomplish.

Thud.

The moment he stepped outside, he collided head-on with the coach from the throws department.

"Coach Ye, something massive has happened!"

"What could possibly be bigger than what I've got?"

"Coach Ye, what I have is definitely bigger than yours!"

"..."

"You know about it too?"

"You know about it too?"

The two men spoke in perfect unison.

"No time for nonsense. We're heading to Hangzhou right now! Oh, right, the scheduling and the training camp registrations—who was supposed to handle that? Whoever! Let them take care of it!"

As for his old friend Hu Cunyong’s grumbling, or even offending the entire weightlifting, wrestling, and judo establishment?

Who cared!

This prodigy had to be claimed at all costs!

Meanwhile, over in Hangzhou, Meng Fan had already finished his shot put event, and the results of his third throw were locked in.

After adjusting his form and ensuring his movements and release were slightly less rigid, Meng Fan’s third and final throw measured an astounding 21.37 meters. It was an improvement of nearly a full meter over his previous attempt—a terrifying leap in progression by any athletic standard. At the same time, this 21.37-meter mark effortlessly shattered an Asian record that had stood frozen for eleven long years!

The previous continental record of 21.13 meters had been set back in 2009 by the Kazakh athlete Sultan in Doha.

Of course, this distance also represented the absolute ceiling of Meng Fan's current capabilities. His technique was far from textbook, and his leverage points had never undergone systematic refinement; even if he were to throw a hundred more times, he wouldn't fare much better than this.

"Ding! System judgment: Failure."

Having claimed the championship, the notification of failure rang out in his mind, denying him any honors or rewards associated with the title.

"Hello, Iron God. We meet again."

The makeshift medal ceremony had barely concluded when the reporter from CCTV-5 intercepted him, with other media outlets quickly swarming in to follow suit.

Their primary reason for coming here was simply because this university sports meet marked Meng Fan’s first competitive appearance since the Olympics; they hadn't expected the event itself to hold any real athletic significance. Who could have guessed that Meng Fan, stepping into the utterly alien territory of shot put, would casually throw past an Asian record? Talk about a spectacular surprise!

"Hello, Reporter Brother, Camera Big Brother. What brings you guys here?"

Meng Fan greeted his old acquaintances, nodded a polite acknowledgment to the rest of the press, and smiled. "If you have questions, fire away."

The CCTV-5 reporter laughed heartily. "How about you carry on your fine tradition and just start talking yourself?"

The surrounding journalists erupted into laughter. Everyone in the business was well-acquainted with Meng Fan’s unique style of handling interviews by now.

Meng Fan waved his hands with a modest chuckle and spoke humbly. "Then I'll just say a few words. Cough. Well, isn't this my final year of university? Mind you, I didn't take the postgraduate entrance exams; I’ve already applied to remain at the university after graduation. I hope to prove worthy of the honorable profession of a teacher in the days to come, and I warmly welcome any students with a passion for animation and manga to apply to our academy."

Standing off to the side, the faculty leaders stroked their beards with beaming faces. What a splendid lad!

Having smoothly slipped in a shameless recruitment ad for the school, Meng Fan continued, "I’ve participated in these sports meets before, and I certainly couldn't miss out on my final year. As for choosing the shot put and the javelin—javelin is the other event I registered for—these were both events I signed up for last year as well. I didn't think much of it at first, but judging by the expressions on your faces, it seems I’ve broken another record. Might I ask what level of record I just broke?"

Meng Fan wasn't trying to show off; he genuinely didn't know. At best, he had a vague impression of the world record and figured he was still a fair distance away from that peak.

(End of Chapter)