As soon as the reporter asked his question, the expressions of the coach and the national team members darkened.

His words implied that the athletes lacked academic ability, which offended many present.

Other reporters felt that the question was inappropriate; while it’s fine to think certain things, you shouldn’t say them, especially when addressing a twelve-year-old boy.

The question was over the line.

Even if some of these sports school students didn’t excel academically, they were still representing the country in international competition.

Who would dare say they lacked potential at such a critical moment?

The question insinuated that they had poor academic performance and were only in sports schools because of that.

Some people were ready to speak up, but before they could, Yibao responded.

“Huh? That’s not true,” he said. “Students with good grades can study, and those with poor grades can study too. But whether your grades are good or bad, if you’re not good at sports, you can’t go to a sports school. So, going to a sports school has nothing to do with how well you do academically. It’s all about how good you are at sports. In our sports school, they don’t test academic performance; they only test sports skills.”

Erbao genuinely believed the reporter didn’t understand, so he patiently explained.

The reporter, realizing that Erbao was treating him as if he were uninformed, replied with a bit of irritation in his tone. “Then why would someone with good grades go to a sports school? There are only so many spots on the national team for athletes. What happens to the rest of the students? Wouldn’t it make more sense for those with good grades to focus on academics, get a secure job, and earn a stable income?”

Erbao, though sharp, wasn’t quick enough to grasp the depth of the question immediately.

He had to process it for a moment.

“That’s not right. Take our coach, for example. He had great grades—he went to college! College students are the smartest; they can secure stable jobs or become scientists. But our coach became a coach. He says he wakes up earlier than the chickens and goes to bed later than the dogs. Why? Because the country needs him!”

The coach froze for a moment, thinking, When did he hear me say that?

“Coach also says that the country needs him, and that’s his value. So if someone with good grades doesn’t go for a stable job or become a scientist but chooses to be an athlete, it’s because the country needs them. Coach says a person needs to live with purpose. Like me—my grades aren’t as good as my brothers’, but I’m good at sports, so I’m finding my own value.

“Take my dad. He’s really smart and went to college, but instead of becoming a scientist, he joined the army because the country needed him to fight off the bad guys. And my mom…”

Erbao paused, unsure of how to articulate his mother’s value. “My mom’s value is that she cooks really well. Our whole family loves the food she makes.”

Upon hearing Erbao’s words, everyone fell silent.

A person should live with value—this was not something you’d expect a twelve-year-old boy to understand.

He had said it was his coach’s philosophy, but hearing it come from him made an impact on everyone present.

One of the reporters broke the silence, smiling as he asked, “Lin Hairui, so is your value becoming a world champion?”

The tension in the room eased with the question, and some reporters even nudged the earlier one aside.

People would say anything for a news story these days.

“No,” Erbao answered simply.

“Huh?” The reporter was puzzled. “But didn’t you just say that you’re good at sports, so you went to a sports school to find your value? Now that you’ve become the youth world champion in both the 3000m and 5000m races, isn’t that your value?”

Yibao shook his head. “No, my value isn’t that I became a world champion. My value is that I brought honor to my country.” He then flashed a wide, innocent smile.

The room fell quiet again.

Some people’s eyes even reddened.

Even those watching on television paused, lost in thought.

A world champion certainly brings glory to the country, but the difference between value as a world champion and value as someone who brings honor to the country is profound.

Everyone understood what he meant, but it was hard to put into words.

Suddenly, the coach spoke up. “Lin Hairui, what’s my value?”

Without missing a beat, Erbao replied, “Training world champions!”

The coach laughed out loud.

“Lin Hairui, what’s our value?” asked another member of the national team.

With his booming voice, Erbao shouted, “The same as mine—bringing honor to our country!”

Bringing honor to the country wasn’t about grades, rankings, or results.

As long as they had given their best, they were bringing honor to their nation.

A round of thunderous applause filled the room—reporters, airport staff, and even the travelers joined in.

Ning Shu watched Erbao on TV.

He was still the same silly Erbao she had known from age five to thirteen, yet he had changed in some ways.

To hear him speak so deeply about value surprised even his mother.

Value.

Who truly knows their own worth?

But Erbao had found his value: bringing glory to the country.

Ning Shu was filled with pride.

Seeing her mother’s eyes well up with joy, Yibao and Sanbao exchanged a glance and quietly slipped outside under the pretense of going to the bathroom.

“Sanbao, I’m thinking of skipping another grade next semester,” Yibao said. By then, they would be in the second year of junior high, but they had already completed the curriculum.

Sanbao nodded. “Let’s do it. We’ll skip together.”

They didn’t need to talk much; both understood what the other was thinking.

If they all ended up in the second year of junior high with Erbao next semester, Erbao would already be ahead of them by winning a gold medal for the country.

This in itself wasn’t a big deal, but since their mother’s attention was now entirely focused on Erbao, they couldn’t compete with him in sports, so they would have to outshine him in academics.

They shared another glance, silently agreeing to talk to their parents about it soon.

Meanwhile, the leader who had seen Erbao’s interview thought to himself, “As expected from a military family—both the kids and the parents are highly aware of their responsibilities.”

The idea of finding one’s value in life resonated with him deeply.

If a person goes through life without discovering their own value, would it not be a wasted existence?

What was his own value, then?

His purpose, he decided, was to contribute as much as possible to his country’s future development.

After the national team left the airport, they all headed home.

Everything that needed to be discussed had already been covered at their meeting abroad, allowing them to immediately go home upon their return.

Now, they had a two-week vacation ahead of them.

Although it wasn’t as long as the typical two-month summer break, the athletes were still thrilled to have two weeks off.

Because Erbao was still young, when the other athletes went home, the coach accompanied him on three bus rides to drop him off at the gates of his family’s compound.

This was actually the first time Erbao had been brought home by the coach; usually, Yibao and Sanbao would come to pick him up.

The coach had only escorted him because of his young age, though at 12, Erbao was already old enough to make his own way home like any other boy his age.

But the coach hadn’t fully recovered from the excitement of Erbao’s win and used the opportunity to calm down a bit by walking him home.

“Coach, are you sure you don’t want to come in and have a meal? My mom is a fantastic cook! You could stay for dinner before you go,” Erbao invited enthusiastically.

As the guards at the gate spotted Erbao returning, their faces lit up.

Although they hadn’t been able to watch the competition due to their duties, they had read the newspapers and knew all about Erbao’s victory.

They were proud of him too.

This was the same kid they had watched grow up, a bit rash at first but with a big heart, even brave enough to catch a kidnapper.

And now, he was a world champion.

“No need, I’ll head home now. My family is waiting for me too,” the coach replied with a smile. “You’d better hurry inside—your family must be eager to see you.”

Erbao, eager to get home, wanted to present his gold medals to his parents—one for his dad and one for his mom.

As for Yibao and Sanbao, they’d get medals once he won more at the next World Youth Games.

He’d calculated that in two years, when the older sprinters had aged out, he would have grown taller and faster, easily claiming first place.

He was confident he’d win medals in both the 3000m and 5000m races, securing three golds, one for each brother.

Erbao kept this plan to himself, not foolish enough to reveal his ambitions before the next games had even started.

As he watched the coach leave, Erbao was about to head home when two guards called out to him.

“Lin Hairui…”

“Lin Hairui, congratulations on winning the gold medal and bringing honor to our country. You’re amazing!” they said.

Erbao grinned widely, showing his bright white teeth, his signature smile spreading across his face. “Uncle, did you watch it on TV? Did you see me win the gold medal and see our national flag being raised?”

One of the guards smiled and explained, “Sorry, Lin Hairui, we were on duty and couldn’t watch TV. But we read about it in the papers and saw your photo holding the gold medal, along with a picture of the national flag being raised.”

Hearing this, Erbao was overjoyed.

After a moment of thought, he asked, “Do you want to see the gold medals? I can show them to you, but you can’t touch them—they’re for my mom and dad.”

“Can we?” both guards asked in unison, surprised.

To see the real gold medals in person, not just in a photo?

Who wouldn’t want that?

“Of course!” Erbao replied, feeling comfortable with the guards he knew so well.

He pulled the two gold medals out of his backpack. “Take a look, uncles.”

The guards stared in awe at the shining medals, clearly impressed.