As the saying goes, one rises as the other falls. Just as Tang Xiaoquan was paying the price for his mistaken assessment of the situation, Wang Qiang, who had been at the back of the line, gradually caught up after painfully adjusting his pace over a few hundred meters.
The morning temperature was cold, and the wind was chilling. Yet everyone running was drenched in sweat, as if they had just come out of a sauna.
"Only 500 meters left!" Old Xu's words struck everyone's heads like a giant hammer. Already exhausted, everyone summoned their last ounce of strength.
Tang Xiaoquan trudged forward with difficulty, feeling as if his legs were filled with lead. His throat was so dry it felt like it might ignite.
The others weren't doing any better, and even the usually calm Hu Xiaodong was starting to breathe erratically.
"Hang in there, hang in there, we're almost at the finish line!"
