Chapter 1295

NO. 199: You can occasionally believe in Sirius

It had been mentioned before, hoping that the few days after the championship would be the Arima Memorial.

Usually, the Arima Memorial is the year's final highlight, a summary of that year's popularity vote in the horse racing world, but since we mentioned the usual, we must also note this year's abnormality.

——Dream Cup

This was a wave stirred up by competition reform, once making it hard to tell who was achieving whom.

Regardless of the association's purpose, the existence of the Dream Cup truly impacted the status of the Arima Memorial; if we were to personify the events, the latter would probably already be scolding the former.

After all, though the Dream Cup proper starts next year, its short-distance warm-up division, which serves as a prelude, is also at the end of December, and indeed falls on the very last day of December.

December 31

That is the time when the names of many retired horse girls return to the industry magazines.

At that time, the magazine resembled a ten-year industry roundup, even including super seniors who had retired over ten years ago; it could truly be called a gathering of shining stars.

Although the industry's consensus on the 'golden period of a horse racing career' is long established, this sort of flashy news of returning after a ten-year retirement can only be used for amusement.

But it cannot be denied that when these former legends one after another issue battle declarations and one after another launch popularity-vote campaigns, the industry long remains in a state of boiling excitement.

Even Aomo would, amidst his busy schedule, sneak out to surf anonymously and join everyone in fun, often participating in discussions about 'which veteran will issue the next challenge.'

In such discussions, Ludaofu Xiangzheng is always a name that nobody can get around.

After all, rumors of the emperor's imminent return have always existed, and the Symbol family's ongoing promotion and publicity indirectly corroborate such speculation, making it hard for them not to appear in these topics.

Will she declare war with great fanfare?

When will she launch the declaration of war?

After these few years, might the emperor's style have changed?

Will she indirectly stimulate Qianming's representative and Gechengwangpai?

... All such questions, everything, now have answers.

As a fan, Aomo Lindun undoubtedly could not refuse such an invitation, attending the Symbol family's press conference two days before the hoped-for championship, and once again appearing on Umastagram's trending topics.

The emperor's style remains unchanged, still aiming to overwhelm everything with majestic grandeur, distinguishing himself from most peers who merely announce participation with a single video, a line of audio, or a post.

Then that same afternoon, as he went to routinely check Gechengwangpai's recovery status, he was served a challenge letter by Wangpai Ge with an imposing aura.

No, you should go challenge Ludaofu……

What are you telling me for? I'm just a trainer—what do you mean 'can't say now'? You want to give a surprise?

It would be best if there really were a surprise…… Aomo felt that Wangpai Ge also had a touch of comedic talent.

Leaving aside whether the central student council president is some kind of permission apex, even if Ludaofu doesn't look after his missing old friend, having been deceived by the AI Three Goddesses simulating a higher-priority order over the unconfirmed area behind the mountain—could you really believe that the three of you, though not lesbians but equally a tight triangle, would pretend to be dead?

Even if she didn't see you in rehab, she could still guess you were going to compete, right?

Whenever he recalled Rudolf, after the press conference ended, casually asking him, 'Are they ready?' and then saw Ace Brother putting on a tough front toward him, suppressing the urge to go find Rudolf… he had to hold back his laughter.

While under the watchful eyes of Sai Luo, Lipiya, and the invisible Es, as he left the secret training grounds and, on his way to the infirmary, unexpectedly met Qianming's representative and Narita Hakujin, he finally realized how good Ace Brother was.

It was quite strange.

That was his first impression upon seeing the two walking together.

Even among slackers there are differences; Qianming's representative and Narita Hakujin are not of the same generation of athletes, and their running styles, which reveal their personalities, share no similarity.

Whenever he saw the two walking together, Aomo felt a sense of unease.

But it cannot be denied that he had originally come to visit the former, and also intended to visit the latter later, so the present situation amounts to a kind of over‑fulfillment.

Quite fortunate.

That was his feeling after setting aside that unease.

Although the topic of rehabilitation is somewhat sensitive for some retired horse girls, these two are not the type to beat around the bush.

They had already openly displayed their current progress on the track; there really was no reason to be evasive with each other, or in front of himself.

—That's what he thought, but reality took a different turn.

It was agonizing.

That was his third impression, accompanying him from then until now.

Even after saying goodbye to those two and returning to his own little world, he still worried, doubting his past judgments.

Perhaps among these horse‑girl ladies there are still some heavy pasts unknown to him?

Or perhaps this is the competitive spirit Rudolf mentioned? And he had completely underestimated its weight?

The heaviness was the first feeling he experienced then; when Qianming's words avoided the core, and Hakujin's topic shift felt stiff, he realized he was wrong.

Being wrong at the same time, he also found the situation unusually familiar.

This feeling was just like when he first heard Hol Haiya pour out her heart at the bar, expecting a night of story enjoyment, but actually it turned out to be a night seized by gravity—an NT night; the sudden onset of heaviness was truly out of the blue, leaving him, in that torment of sitting on pins and needles, to taste the price of rashness.

His keen eye for detail is a strength, but when his own accumulation is insufficient and his preparation lacking, that strength becomes another form of torment.

After all, it's nothing more than a silver cancer.

From their varying degrees of abnormality you can glimpse the boundary of gravity; you think you know them well, yet you see them affected by something, losing their usual standards and losing their individual distinctiveness.

He was puzzled.

He was very curious.

But it was hard to reach.

For this ought to be a realm accessible only to especially close kin and friends.

Hol Haiya and Aomo Lindun's condition exchange, the narrator and the eager listener's alcohol‑fueled interaction, the little feathered snake's leisurely tale before the Rainbow Snake God… such a naturally occurring yet multi‑effect scenario is ultimately hard to reproduce.

Thus it became a secret, and also a source of torment.

A problem that you have discovered but cannot immediately resolve lies between these people, obstructing your communication and, like a bone stuck in the throat, constantly making you think——

——How did it come to this?

"Hahahahaha, you little brat, actually worrying about this kind of thing—why not just go ask Rudolf? With her personality, if she were a bit more steady she might have been able to tell you openly—after all, you're her most precious trainer!"

"The yin-yang weird flavor is about to pollute the air, ah," he waved his palm in midair, Aomo, as if there really were some strange smell, glanced sideways at the opposite pink-haired woman, "Miss Tianlangxing, while everyone is preparing for the Dream Cup, shouldn't you also be making the most of your time?"

Tianlangxing slowly lay on the sofa, gazing at the light screen, symbolizing a sense of leisurely pleasure, and speaking even more confidently.

"Huh? You're not my trainer, so why do you care whether I train or not!"

"Indeed, I think Miss Tianlangxing is probably very satisfied with her life; she must have been happy these past few days, her weight even increased by a couple pounds, or rather two jin."

"Bullshit, at most a jin plus a bit!" The woman sprang up, her eyebrows furrowed, "And besides, are you a pervert?! How did you sneak a peek at my weight!!"

When the girls always treat their weight numbers as a precious part of their lives and refuse to reveal even a bit, the trainers have to figure things out themselves, and this is usually a trade secret.

"It couldn't be that you figured it out from footprints or clothing outlines, could it?" Tianlangxing raised her hand, wary as if she'd been molested.

Not to be displayed.

Meanwhile, Aomo curled a cold smirk and didn't mention the high-precision weight tester buried under the floor by the activity room door.

Looking at footprints? Checking the difference in how old clothes cling to the body? Those are all outdated and imprecise methods.

As trainers, whose job is like a coach's, they've all had to study nutrition for the horse girls; how could they not even grasp something as basic as the weight numbers?

He had long suspected that the old-timers in the chat group claiming they didn't know the horse girls' weights were just pretending, and the file section of the brand-new small chat room he was suddenly invited to join a few days ago is even more direct proof.

"Ha, suit yourself. Anyway, even if you figure out my weight, it won't help your worries, but if you ask me, I might be able to give you a hint."

"A hint? That's really a lofty term; I think I have the right to kick out unwelcome guests from the activity room."

How can you be so petty?

I think tolerance should be mutual, Miss Tianlangxing; once Suzi and the others return with their newly made match outfits, you might not even have any space left on the sofa.

Fine, maybe by the time they return you'll have figured it out yourself, but that's also boring.

Oh?

This really is an important piece of information.

Stop guessing darkly over there; let me just say this: what if there's really no heavy past at all, and it's just because this matter got dragged into you?