Chapter 181: Chapter 181: Can’t Stop Yet
’She’s running so slow. There’s no doubt she’s headed for the training camp.’
’I shouldn’t have run so fast. Now, at the training camp, I wonder if she’ll be able to manage all by herself. But then again, it’s not my place to worry. Someone will be there to "take care of" her.’
With this thought, Henry Hartwell smiled faintly, turned to pick up his bottle of water, and took a leisurely sip.
...
The women’s 800-meter race quickly ended. The fastest runner finished in under four minutes, and the slowest, without a shadow of a doubt, was Claire Sinclair.
By the time everyone else had crossed the finish line, Claire Sinclair was still shuffling along at a pace that was nearly a walk...
Yes, she was running.
Though her speed was incredibly slow, her expression was strained. Her face was pale, her mouth was dry, and she panted heavily, mouth agape.
Seeing this, Phoebe Lockwood saw her opportunity and sneered, "Is she even running? Even a turtle’s faster than her. What a waste of everyone’s time."
When she said this, the finish line was unusually quiet. No one responded, and all eyes were focused on Claire Sinclair.
It’s unclear who shouted first, but a voice suddenly rang out, "Go, Claire Sinclair! Don’t give up!"
"Go, girl!"
"Claire Sinclair, you can do it! Go!"
"Go! Go! Go..."
In the end, there’s more good in the world than not. When people see someone struggling but still persevering, most will choose to offer encouragement rather than scorn.
Hearing the enthusiastic cheers from her colleagues, Phoebe Lockwood suddenly felt a sharp pang of shame and began to doubt herself. ’Did I do something wrong?’
Not far away, Claire Sinclair glanced at the people cheering for her at the finish line, her gaze unfocused. Although she also wanted to run faster, her legs just wouldn’t cooperate.
She could barely lift her legs; it was only through sheer willpower that she kept from stopping.
After finally struggling across the finish line, Henry Hartwell was the first to rush over and catch her, guiding her into a slow walk. "Claire Sinclair, you can’t stop yet. Walk a little more, get your breathing under control. Slowly now."
Claire Sinclair was still panting too hard to speak, but she knew you weren’t supposed to stop moving immediately after a run, so she used the last of her willpower to keep lifting her feet.
While others recovered in ten or twenty seconds, it took Claire much longer. She only started to feel human again after drinking half a bottle of water.
Henry Hartwell got the final list, walked in front of the crowd, and began to announce the results.
Six men and seven women were required to enter the training camp, and Claire Sinclair’s name was among them.
Claire Sinclair had already expected this outcome, but her heart still sank a little, and a wave of panic washed over her.
’This infamous training camp... is it going to be horrible?’
Henry Hartwell concluded, "Tonight at six, the colleagues who didn’t pass the test need to pack their bags and meet back at the company. Transportation will be provided to take you all to the training camp."
The moment he finished speaking, the colleagues who had passed let out a collective sigh of relief, while the faces of those who failed fell.
Claire Sinclair, on the other hand, didn’t feel much of anything. She just packed her bag and prepared to go home.
Phoebe Lockwood suddenly walked over to twist the knife. "I didn’t expect you to actually come in dead last. When you get to the training camp, you’d better work hard. Otherwise, if you’re stuck there for the rest of your life, I’ll have one less competitor."
On the surface, her words sounded like encouragement, but they were actually a curse, wishing that Claire Sinclair would never pass the training program.
’This woman... a dog can’t be taught not to eat shit.’
