Is Self-Redemption Really That Hard? [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 22.1

Lu Wuqi was the fastest runner in her department, so she was naturally placed as the anchor for the relay.

Although there weren’t many girls in the Computer Science department, it wasn’t hard to find four decent sprinters. During the preliminary round, the first three legs were neck and neck—the distance between first and last place was less than ten meters.

As soon as Lu Wuqi grabbed the baton, she launched into a full sprint. The final hundred meters were fiercely contested. She started in third place, gradually pulled up to second, and in the final twenty meters, closed the gap until she was only half a body behind the leader.

Lan Xu’s heart was in her throat. Hearing the cheers erupting around her, she couldn’t help but join in, shouting, “Lu Wuqi, go! Go, go!”

Encouragement from one’s girlfriend always carried a special kind of power. Spurred on by her voice, Lu Wuqi somehow managed to accelerate once more, her body leaning forward as she lunged across the finish line—beating the runner-up by just a few tenths of a second. It was a razor-thin victory.

“Damn, that was awesome!” The Computer Science boys and girls all cheered together. But when they saw Lan Xu walking over with a jacket and a bottle of water, they wisely held back, letting her be the one to fuss over Lu Wuqi.

Not that Lu Wuqi needed help—after all, it was only a hundred meters. A few deep breaths and a short walk later, she had steadied her breathing.

“Lu Wuqi, you’re first! We got first in our heat!” Lan Xu’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Overcome with joy, she forgot her usual shyness and threw her arms around Lu Wuqi, burying her face in her chest.

“It’s all thanks to my teammates,” Lu Wuqi replied between breaths, smiling as she leaned down to nuzzle Lan Xu’s cheek with the tip of her nose. “I only had to close a tiny gap.”

“When the finals start later, will you cheer for me at the finish line too?” she asked softly.

“Of course! I’ll be waiting for you to win that championship!” Lan Xu answered without hesitation.

Only after letting go did she realize they were surrounded by people. When she turned her head, she caught sight of a few members of the campus news club snapping photos like crazy.

“Lu Wuqi, let’s go rest for a bit. Here, drink some water,” Lan Xu said quickly, her delayed embarrassment hitting all at once. She suddenly had the urge to hide her face under Lu Wuqi’s jacket and sprint away.

“Sure.” Lu Wuqi chuckled, perfectly at ease with the attention—if anything, a little pleased that their relationship was becoming more public.

Once she mentioned taking a break, the surrounding students immediately made way, their cooperation almost comically natural.

Still, as they walked off, the pair couldn’t help overhearing whispered chatter from the crowd.

“Wow, so the rumors on the forum were true—Lu the Legend really does have a girlfriend.”

“Why is the gap between people so big? She’s smart and athletic.”

“And that smile! I’ve never seen her look that happy before!”

Eight teams made it into the finals. Based on the preliminary times, the Computer Science department ranked third—just fractions of a second ahead of fourth—and the competition for first place was intense.

As the anchor, Lu Wuqi could only wait and trust her teammates. All she could do was give it everything she had the moment the baton touched her hand.

Faster. Faster. She leaned forward as she neared the finish line, crossing it with a deep forward tilt.

Everyone on the team performed remarkably, and Lu Wuqi ran with everything she had.

But the difference between selecting four runners from a few dozen students versus a few hundred was stark. In the end, the Computer Science department finished 0.8 seconds behind first place, winning the silver medal.

Even so, it was a result to be proud of—second place in the women’s 4×100 relay was the department’s best result in nearly ten years.

“Phew, so close. Guess I’ll just have to give you a silver medal early,” Lu Wuqi said, still catching her breath as she jogged an extra thirty meters to burn off her momentum.

“That’s already amazing. Our Chinese department only got third,” Lan Xu said, gently patting her back. “How do you feel? You’ve still got the 100-meter sprint this afternoon.”

“I feel like I could eat two bowls of rice,” Lu Wuqi said, her breathing finally steadying as she leaned her head lightly against Lan Xu’s shoulder.

Noticing some classmates hesitating nearby, she waved them off with a smile, signaling she was fine and didn’t need help.

The students, all longtime “Lu CP” shippers, flashed an OK sign and went to check on the other relay runners, tactfully leaving space for the couple.

“Then, shall we get lunch now?” Lan Xu asked. From this close, she could feel Lu Wuqi’s elevated body heat and the strong pulse in her neck.

“Sure.” Lu Wuqi straightened up after a moment, intertwining her left hand with her girlfriend’s right. “After we eat, I’ll take a nap. I’ll message you when I wake up, okay?”

Lan Xu hesitated. “I think Ai Jiaxin and the others aren’t going back to the dorm at noon.”

Lu Wuqi immediately caught her meaning. “Then I’ll go to your dorm. We can nap together.”

The 100-meter dash was scheduled for 2:50 p.m., with heats followed by a final.

There was no need to say more about Lu Wuqi’s abilities—her reflexes and explosive speed spoke for themselves. With no professional sports majors participating, winning first place was almost a given.

After receiving the team’s silver medal, she went on to claim gold in the 100 meters—and was even handed a small bouquet by an anonymous admirer.

Capital University didn’t skimp on prizes—the gold medal was actually gold-plated, worth over a thousand yuan. Individual winners also received cash awards of 1,000, 500, and 300 yuan respectively.

“They’re lilies. Want to keep them in your dorm?” Lu Wuqi asked as she stepped off the podium, slipping her gold medal around Lan Xu’s neck and handing her the bouquet.

“Sure, I’ll find a vase for them,” Lan Xu said, lowering her head to sniff the flowers. “They smell lovely.”

“Excuse me, could you both look toward the camera?” A member of the news club approached, camera in hand. “We’re collecting material for an article—just a few shots for the feature image.”

“Like this?” Lu Wuqi adjusted her stance, moving from holding Lan Xu’s hand to wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Yes, perfect! Lan, could you lift the medal a bit?” the photographer said excitedly, snapping away as they half-knelt for a better angle.

Lan Xu shyly raised the medal, glancing at the lens with a trace of embarrassment—as if she was somehow stealing Lu Wuqi’s spotlight.

“Could you get a little closer? Maybe look at each other?” the photographer prompted. “Yes, that’s perfect—hold that pose!”

Three minutes later, dozens of photos later, the journalist thanked them profusely and left beaming. Tonight’s campus newsletter cover would feature “Lu the Legend and Her Girlfriend.” Views and clicks were guaranteed to soar.

“Lu Wuqi, are you really that famous in your department?” Lan Xu asked on the way to the cafeteria. “My roommates all seem to know things about you.”

“Probably just a little,” Lu Wuqi said after thinking it over. “I don’t really join many of their events. Maybe the professors like to use me as an example, so they’ve heard my name.”

Lan Xu kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. “Really? They all said I hit the jackpot dating you.”

“It’s the other way around,” Lu Wuqi said softly. “If it wasn’t for you, Xuxu, I might not even be standing here now.”

She slowed her pace, voice calm but sincere. “They only see the bright side of me—the part that looks impressive from the outside.”

“Hmm? You mean you actually have a less-than-perfect side?” Lan Xu looked up, meeting Lu Wuqi’s gaze. Her tone was serious and sincere. “Having an amazing girlfriend isn’t a bad thing. Don’t belittle yourself!”

Lu Wuqi froze for a moment, the brief flicker of confusion in her eyes quickly melting into a smile. “Of course I do. Sometimes I can be cowardly, I want to run away from things, and I even tell small lies. Those are things they don’t know about.”

“I’m not belittling myself. It’s just that they don’t really know me, so they think I’m much more capable than I actually am.” She blinked playfully. “Xuxu, do you also think I’m amazing?”

“I didn’t before,” Lan Xu said with complete seriousness, “but now I’m starting to think so. I feel like I have a pretty incredible girlfriend.” She added with a little laugh, “Lu Wuqi, you better keep shining—I’m planning to bask in your glory!”

When it came to her girlfriend being impressive, Lan Xu accepted it easily.

Maybe it was because they’d known each other since their first year of high school, and Lu Wuqi’s attitude toward her hadn’t changed a bit. To Lan Xu, there was no sense of distance or disconnect—she simply thought her girlfriend had chosen the right field to excel in.

Besides, no matter how amazing Lu Wuqi was, she was still her girlfriend—her own!

And honestly, after remembering that notebook filled with ten thousand words of apology letter Lu Wuqi once wrote, Lan Xu’s “genius idol” filter had already completely shattered.

“Alright, I’ll do my best,” Lu Wuqi said with a bright smile.

The school sports meet lasted for three days, with different events held at different venues. Lu Wuqi’s short-distance race was scheduled for the first day, and the long-distance run was on the third.

The 3000-meter race had no preliminaries or finals—each department sent two runners, and results were ranked directly after two separate heats.

At 1.75 meters tall, Lu Wuqi stood out among the female runners. Dressed in her professional racing outfit, her fair arms and long legs were exposed, making her look even more striking.

When the starting gun fired, Lu Wuqi immediately accelerated and secured an inner lane. From the very start, she held her place among the leading group—just behind a tanned, athletic student from the sports department whose height nearly matched her own.

“Lu Wuqi, go for it!” Lan Xu shouted from near the finish line, clutching a bottle of sports drink tightly in her hand.

During the first few laps, Lan Xu followed along the inner field, occasionally running a short stretch beside Lu Wuqi to hand her water whenever she waved for it.

After the timer passed the ten-minute mark, the first batch of runners entered their final lap.

Lu Wuqi stayed close behind the sports student, the gap between them never more than a few strides. The two led the race, leaving the third-place runner nearly twenty meters behind.

Lan Xu stood at the finish line, her throat burning as she yelled herself hoarse alongside the rest of the Computer Science department.

Lu Wuqi remembered the boast she’d made earlier—that she would win two gold medals, one for herself and one for Lan Xu.

So when the athlete ahead of her suddenly realized that the girl beside her was still accelerating, it was already too late. In the last ten meters, Lu Wuqi surged forward, overtook her by a full stride, and crossed the finish line first.

“Ahhh! That’s insane! She’s amazing!”

“So strong! She finished in under twelve minutes—unbelievable!”

“Lu God, you’re my god!”

The Computer Science students erupted in cheers, quickly surrounding Lu Wuqi—who was still bent over, hands on her knees, catching her breath.

Sweat dripped down her forehead as she scanned the crowd, instinctively searching for Lan Xu’s face.

“Lu Wuqi, don’t stop moving. Stand up and walk slowly,” came Lan Xu’s voice from behind her. She slipped an arm under Lu Wuqi’s and helped her up.

“Xuxu,” Lu Wuqi managed to say, the taste of iron thick on her tongue.

Beating a trained athlete was no easy feat. Even if that athlete specialized in a different event, Lu Wuqi had pushed herself to the limit to win by just a single second.

“I’m here. Want some water?” Lan Xu lifted her arm so Lu Wuqi could rest on her shoulder and opened a bottle with a straw.

Lu Wuqi hummed softly in response, biting the straw and taking small sips.

When Lan Xu took out a small towel to gently wipe her sweat, then draped a light jacket over her shoulders, the classmates who had stepped forward to help immediately backed off with unspoken understanding.

They got the message—this time, they were outsiders.

“Lu, our department’s rest area is over there,” someone called out. “You should sit down for a bit! Once the second group’s done, they’ll announce the final rankings!”

“Lu, are you hungry? Want to grab a snack?”

“There are snacks and lounge chairs over there! You and your girlfriend can rest together!”

At the mention of “girlfriend,” Lan Xu’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Lu Wuqi, can you still walk?”

“I can. Let’s go rest,” Lu Wuqi said. Her breathing had steadied, though sweat still glistened on her forehead.

Surrounded by excited classmates, Lan Xu tried to keep a straight face while half-supporting Lu Wuqi toward the department’s rest area to wait for the official results.

After sitting for a couple of minutes, Lu Wuqi finally relaxed. She tore open a small packet of biscuits, took out one piece, and offered it to her girlfriend. “Want a snack?”

Without hesitation, Lan Xu opened her mouth and took a bite, chewing as she asked, “I heard them announce the results—you ran just over eleven minutes, right? How’s that score?”

“Not on par with professionals, but for amateurs, it’s a good time,” Lu Wuqi replied, popping the rest of the biscuit into her mouth. “What flavor of juice do you want?”

“Grape,” Lan Xu said, pulling out her phone to check the department group chat. Soon she found the results from the Chinese Department’s runners—twelve minutes and fifty seconds.

Almost a full hundred seconds slower. Lu Wuqi really was amazing.

“Are you sure your department’s ‘goddess’ is supposed to be hard to approach?” whispered one of the onlookers nearby. “She looks so easy to get along with.”

“Exactly,” another said. “I saw the school news article last night—your department’s ‘Lu God’ and her girlfriend were literally on the front cover.”

“And did you see how natural that feeding-each-other move was? If I could have a girlfriend like Lu God, I wouldn’t care what gender she was!”

“Don’t just say that—I’d love that too!” said a refined-looking boy with glasses. “Do you even know how amazing Goddess Lu is? She can literally discuss the future of the field with professors! I want a girlfriend like her too!”

“You could always take a trip to Thailand. If you make it back alive, there’s, say, a one percent chance,” another boy chimed in dryly.

The computer science students could only sigh helplessly—they weren’t exaggerating at all. Normally, Lu Wuqi wasn’t the smiling, easygoing girl she appeared to be right now. Most of the time, she was serious and intimidating, someone who carried herself with the same authority as a professor.