Chapter 4 The Joy of Growing Up

The curtains fluttered gently, allowing a sliver of sunlight to leak through.

The wall calendar was flipped by the wind, rustling as it went.

In the distance, the dripping sound of a faucet could be heard.

Suddenly.

An ear-piercing "ding-ding-ding" of an alarm broke the tranquil atmosphere.

The bathroom's sliding door was flung open.

Fang Cheng, shirtless, toweling off his hands, stepped out in slippers and hurriedly switched off the alarm.

He glanced at the time.

7:30.

He squinted at the morning light outside the window, taking a deep breath.

How great would it be to have a refreshing shower after working out?

Unfortunately, the rented room was too small, without a shower, so he could only give himself a quick wipe-down.

Thinking of this, Fang Cheng couldn't help but to open the Skill Panel again to appreciate the fruits of his morning's training.

[Push-ups Experience +18]

[Boxing Experience +3]

[Concentration Experience +2]

......

[Skill Panel]

[Speed Reading lv1 (28/250)]

[Concentration lv1 (65/250)]

[Cooking Skill lv0 (34/100)]

[Cleaning lv0 (75/100)]

[Boxing lv0 (64/100)]

[Push-ups lv0 (51/100)]

[Potential Activation (23:09:12)]

Two days had blinked by, and all skills had shown significant growth.

Especially "Push-ups," which had consumed the majority of his effort—the experience bar had crossed the halfway mark.

At this rate, it wouldn't take many days before he could upgrade it to lv1.

After wiping off his sweaty chest and back.

Fang Cheng wet the towel again, washed it, wrung it out, and hung it on the rack.

Then, facing the mirror, he touched his face.

He wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but he felt his complexion looked healthier and his arms seemed more muscular.

Looking at the Attributes Panel, all values seemed the same as before.

Expecting significant physical improvements after just a few days of training wasn't realistic.

However, if one observed closely, there was a small percentage progress bar to the right of the attributes.

Upon focusing on it and clicking, a new interface would pop up.

It listed a full screen's worth of prompt messages.

......

[You practiced boxing for 3 minutes, Constitution increased by 0.001]

[You practiced boxing for 4 minutes, Strength increased by 0.001]

[You practiced boxing for 5 minutes, Agility increased by 0.001]

[You mopped the floor for 10 minutes, Constitution increased by 0.001]

[You carried heavy objects for 5 minutes, Strength increased by 0.001]

[You walked 1000 steps, Constitution increased by 0.001]

[You walked 1200 steps, Agility increased by 0.001]

[You slept for 7 hours, Spirit increased by 0.001]

[You slept for 8 hours, Constitution increased by 0.001]

[You did push-ups 5 times, Strength increased by 0.001]

......

Scrolling down, the bottom could be seen.

Scrolling up, the very first message wasn't reachable.

Like skills, the body's attributes could also be leveled up by 'grinding experience.'

With each exercise or movement, there was a slow increase.

However, to avoid spam and distraction, these were not displayed.

"Every one of these messages, every bit of value that increases, is proof of my efforts..."

Fang Cheng murmured to himself, hope flickering in his eyes like a farmer surveying the growth of his crops.

Although the progress was slow, accumulating bit by bit could eventually lead to a qualitative change.

Especially seeing the Constitution attribute nearing 99% completion.

His heart surged with excitement, and he clenched his fists tightly.

"Hiss—"

It seemed he moved too abruptly, pulling an injured muscle, and Fang Cheng couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air.

Intense training had its benefits, but recovery afterward was a headache-inducing issue.

These past two days, Fang Cheng's arms, shoulders, and chest were sore and weak.

If not for the assistance of the Concentration Skill, it would have been difficult to persevere.

For this reason, the efficiency of his training had also decreased.

Fortunately, the panel only counts the number of exercises, without recording the average time spent.

Fang Cheng could opt to slow down his pace and increase rest time to achieve the same goals.

According to the plan, the daily quota of 100 push-ups could be divided into 10 sets.

After getting up in the morning, he tried to complete the training within an hour and a half.

If his physical strength was lacking, he wouldn't force it and would make up for it during breaks at work.

After getting off work every evening, depending on the situation and if he returned earlier, he would do one or two extra sets as additional training.

The training volume of 100 push-ups seemed large.

Yet, when broken down, it wasn't excessive.

The main reason for the current situation was his poor basic physical condition.

Fang Cheng gritted his teeth and shook his head, then swiftly tidied up the bathroom.

He threw his sweat-soaked underwear and smelly socks into the creaky, old washing machine.

During his student years, because he was buried in his studies all day and rarely participated in extracurricular activities, his physical education grades were always near the bottom of his class.

It was only after he started working and doing some physical labor that his physical fitness slightly improved.

Living in a comfort zone for too long makes one get used to it.

After becoming accustomed, people tend to muddle along, thinking the world is just so.

Laziness, desire, lactic acid, dopamine...

The process of getting stronger is fraught with more difficulties than one imagines.

"Just endure it. Once the 'Potential Activation' cooldown is over, this should get better."

"Plus, tomorrow morning's training will unlock a new skill..."

With this thought in mind, despite still feeling sore, Fang Cheng's fighting spirit was reignited.

He quickly got dressed and headed to his bedroom.

Next up was his morning reading and self-study time.

Ever since unlocking the "Push-ups" Skill, Fang Cheng felt as if he had undergone a metamorphosis.

To break free from the habit of staying up late and waking up late, Spirit became more disciplined than ever before.

From 5 a.m. to 7:30 a.m., workout, rest, wash up.

From 7:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., self-study for postgraduate exams.

Then, make breakfast by himself, eat, and catch the 9:05 a.m. bus to arrive at work on time.

A day's plan is best started in the morning.

There's no need to train for a certain amount or to achieve a particular look when working out.

What's most important is to keep at it every day, beating the lazy, anxious, and negatively emotional self.

......

Tap tap tap.

Crack two eggs into a bowl, the pan heating up with oil.

The knife blade dances swiftly on the chopping board, cutting scallions, cucumber, carrots, and chicken breast into fine pieces.

Then sequentially add in the side dishes, seasonings, and dump all the leftover rice from the rice cooker.

Stir-fried until evenly mixed, making sure every grain of rice is coated with sauce.

Turn off the heat, take out the pan, serve on plates.

[Cooking Skill Experience +1]

Sniffing the fragrant rice in the basin, Fang Cheng shows a look of satisfaction.

Just like yesterday, making a simple egg fried rice.

"Even if I don't take the postgraduate exam, I could still set up a breakfast stall. I certainly won't starve to death in this lifetime..."

Physical exertion gives Fang Cheng an unusually good appetite, eating three bowls in a row.

He licked the pot clean and still felt unsatisfied.

Before, his breakfast would only consist of two buns and a bag of soy milk.

Quickly finishing his meal, he cleans the pots, pans, and kitchen utensils.

8:49.

Fang Cheng puts on a black fleece-lined jacket, slips on his Warrior sports shoes, grabs his shoulder bag, and heads to work.

Walking down the hallway, he sees Auntie He from the apartment diagonally across opening her door just in time.

There is a sound of a child's tantrums, mixed with incessant nagging.

"Xiumei, these two portions have added spice, the rest don't have chili, the rice is at the very bottom, remember not to spill the soup!"

"Okay."

Auntie He, wearing a flower-patterned quilted pajamas, stands at the door, giving detailed instructions to her daughter.

Looking up and seeing Fang Cheng pass by, she immediately smiles.

"Ah Cheng, working overtime even on Sunday?"

"Yes, where are you guys heading?"

"Your Uncle Zhou and his colleagues are working on a murder case, they haven't slept all night, I'm having Xiu Mei send them some hot soup to warm their stomachs."

As she speaks, a sudden "clang" comes from inside the house as if a bowl has been smashed, followed by the sound of an elderly person coughing urgently.

"Ah yo, my little ancestor, you really take my life... Mom, I told you to drink slowly, slowly, you just don't listen..."

The door closes.

In the hallway, Fang Cheng and Zhou Xiumei walk one after another.

Neither seems interested in conversation.

Fang Cheng walks rather quickly, already descending the stairs.

Zhou Xiumei is still yet to emerge from the dimly lit hallway.

She wears a white down jacket and cotton pants, with a blue cloth headband on her head and a wool scarf wrapped around her neck.

The bulky clothing doesn't make her as plump and robust as her mother; she seems rather slow instead.

Her slender fingers hold two large plastic bags, a look of carefulness in her furrowed brow.

The bags presumably contain a dozen or so boxes of packed meals.

It's clear that the load is really heavy and she's struggling somewhat.

Fang Cheng looks back.

Seeing this situation, he walks back to her and takes over the tote bag.

"I'll help you carry it to the station."

When their fingers touch, Zhou Xiumei's shoulders shrink slightly, wanting to refuse.

"No need..."

Looking up, she happens to meet Fang Cheng's bright eyes, and like a startled deer, quickly lowers her head and diverts her gaze.

"Thank you."

Her voice is as faint as a mosquito's buzz, unclear if even heard by Fang Cheng.

Yet her cheeks are tinted with a layer of dawn's glow, and her earlobes, hidden by her hair, are even warmer.

Fang Cheng doesn't pay much attention, only feeling a tender pity for this frail, sickly girl next door.

Speaking of which, from the first day he moved here, they have known each other and played together.

From elementary to middle school, they were accustomed to going to school and returning home together.

It seems that they gradually grew apart starting from the first year of senior high school.

After that, he got admitted to East Capital University, and Zhou Xiumei had to take a break from school due to illness, so they rarely spoke alone.

The sun shines through towering buildings on both sides of the street, casting alternating shadows and light.

Stepping out of the tubular building, Fang Cheng withdraws from his reverie and glances at the girl who lags half a step behind him.

Her feet clad in white shoes tread over pitted dirty water, following silently.

Her long hair falls smoothly over her shoulders, emitting a faint fragrance of shampoo.

The cold wind blows by, lifting a few strands of hair, gently caressing her smooth forehead, and her nose sculpted like jade.

And also hiding the pair of eyes that shine like black gems, as well as the blush on her cheeks that hasn't fully faded.

Although in a hurry to catch the bus, Fang Cheng doesn't seem to be in a rush, walking slowly alongside her.

The street is narrow, with many breakfast stalls set up on both sides.

Steamed buns, egg pancakes, rice cakes, and pork lard and shrimp wontons—the aroma of various foods wafts through the air.

Some of the neighbors who got up late come out in slippers and cotton robes to sit beside the stalls and eat their fill.

Walking down this old street with Zhou Xiumei, unchanged for over a decade,

Fang Cheng feels as if he can see his childhood self, with a little girl with pigtails, picking up bottles to sell for candy money.

Fang Cheng shakes his head with a smile.

Many people reminisce about their childhood, mostly for the carefree mindset they had.

But he is different, unable to indulge in the past and escape from reality.

Because he must take on more responsibilities proactively.

Exiting Old Factory Street, the bus stop is not far from the corner of the street.

A Route 13 bus, adorned with a medical breast enhancement advertisement, just happens to be pulling up.

Heading to the club and Jiangbei Subdivision Police Station are in opposite directions.

Fang Cheng hands back the tote bag to Zhou Xiumei, reminding her:

"Remember to walk slowly on the road, watch out for vehicle safety, I'm off to work now."

Zhou Xiumei's gaze hesitates.

It seems like their relationship hasn't been this harmonious in a long time.

Immediately she lowers her head with embarrassment, responding in a soft and delicate voice:

"Okay, you too..."

Fang Cheng shows a slight smile and turns to run towards the arriving bus.

Zhou Xiumei raises her head, her mouth slightly open as if wanting to say more.

In the end, she just watches the retreating figure board the bus, without voicing a word.

Under the refracted sunlight, her eyes are soft and bright, yet tinged with a hazy mist.

She always feels that Fang Cheng somehow seems a bit different...