Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1228 - 596

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The night was shrouded in mist, and the autumn rain pattered down relentlessly.

Drops of water struck the glass pane, tracing weeping trails of murky streaks as they fell.

Even the morning glories outside the window drooped, their spirits seemingly crushed by the downpour.

Fang Cheng gazed at the wad of foul-smelling black paper clutched in his hand, his heart commencing an unruly, rapid thumping.

But at this precise moment, a sharp, stinging sensation suddenly erupted on the skin of his recently cleaned hand.

His eyes snapped open wide, and he peered closer.

The skin, once fair, now bore a raised, dark crimson lump.

Surrounding capillaries bulged, forming a vascular, web-like pattern of deep purple-black lines.

A searing, penetrating burn drilled into his flesh through the pores, a tormenting sensation.

The lump itself seemed to writhe minutely beneath the surface of his skin.

"Hiss—"

Fang Cheng inhaled sharply, instinctively flinging the soiled tissue into the waste bin near his feet.

He then hurried from the bedroom, making a beeline for the bathroom on the same floor, and turned on the tap.

A rush of cool, refreshing water cascaded down.

Grabbing the remaining half-bar of soap from the sink's edge, he scrubbed his hand vigorously, three times over.

Only when the acrid stench of decay slightly receded did the stinging pain begin to subside, barely.

Fang Cheng shut off the water, then shook the moisture from his hands.

Looking down, the dark red protuberance remained obstinately elevated.

It resembled the mark of a venomous insect's bite, swollen and red, radiating an unsettling aura.

Such an inexplicable occurrence defied ordinary explanations, far too bizarre to attribute to simple rain contamination.

"What in the world could be happening? Did something occur in Pingjiang County, perhaps a chemical plant explosion leading to acid rain pollution?"

Fang Cheng's brow furrowed as he gently pressed the bump with his thumb.

An intense ache flared immediately, confirming it was far from a typical allergic reaction.

Taking several deep breaths, he turned and returned to his bedroom, reseating himself at the desk.

His gaze drifted to the clock on the table; the second hand swept onward, nearing nine o'clock at night.

Suppressing his swirling thoughts, he retrieved a pen, intending to complete the two assignments laid out before him.

Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch...

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the rhythmic whisper of the pen tip dancing across the paper.

Just as he finished the first half of a paper, Fang Cheng paused, setting his pen down to stretch.

The motion of extending his arms halted abruptly mid-air.

He perceived that something was amiss.

The house had fallen into an unnerving quiet.

The usual sounds of his parents conversing or mildly arguing downstairs had vanished without a trace.

Even his younger brother, typically a whirlwind of activity in the living room, was completely silent.

The entire two-story residence was now empty of sound, save for the ceaseless drumming of rain against the exterior.

Fang Cheng's grip tightened on the pen, his nostrils flaring.

A far more potent stench than before permeated the air, its origin elusive.

The smell was reminiscent of decomposing fish and meat left to fester for weeks in the oppressive summer heat, sealed within an enclosed space, continuously emitting a sickeningly foul odor.

At this critical juncture, Fang Cheng's mind inexplicably recalled the contorted, shadowy figure he had glimpsed earlier that day.

He then looked down, his eyes falling upon the pronounced, dark red swelling on the back of his hand.

A tremor of primal fear coursed through him, a chilling ripple ascending to the nape of his neck.

Feeling a profound sense of dread seeping into him, Fang Cheng sprang to his feet, his eyes scanning the room, desperately searching for the source of the putrid smell.

Moments later, his senses finally pinpointed the disturbance.

The thick, cloying stench seemed to be seeping incrementally through the narrow gap beneath the firmly closed bedroom door.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he approached the door with soft steps. Pressing his ear against the wood, he listened intently for several seconds.

No sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor, only the muted patter of rain falling from the eaves.

Fang Cheng grasped the doorknob, turning it with deliberate slowness.

"Clack."

The sharp click of the latch disengaging broke the silence, sounding unnervingly loud in the darkened hallway.

The door swung inward, revealing a pitch-black corridor.

Fang Cheng extended his left hand, feeling for the familiar plastic light switch on the wall, and pressed it firmly.

"Click."

The switch yielded completely, but the overhead incandescent bulb remained stubbornly unlit.

A power outage? Yet, the desk lamp on his study table continued to cast a warm, yellow radiance.

Fang Cheng's frown deepened, his fingers repeatedly flicking the stubborn switch.

Still no response, the gnawing unease within him intensified with each passing second.

The air in the corridor felt noticeably colder than that within his bedroom.

Fang Cheng held his breath, once more straining to locate the origin of the repulsive odor.

The sickeningly foul stench now saturated the atmosphere with even greater intensity.

It seemed to surge up from the staircase, emanating from the depths of the lower floor.

Treading with feather-light steps, he pressed himself against the cool wall, descending the wooden stairs one deliberate step at a time.

The main living room light on the first floor remained unlit.

A solitary, dim glow emanated solely from an old-fashioned CRT television.

What had once been a drama was now a screen filled with static, a chaotic dance of black and white snowflakes, accompanied by an incessant "scritch-scratch" of electrical discharge.

The sofa sat vacant; his parents and brother were nowhere in sight.

Fang Cheng's eyes scanned the array of toys strewn across the floor, eventually settling on the entrance to the courtyard.

Illuminated by the television's weak, flickering light, he discerned a hunched figure standing motionless before the heavy, drawn curtains.

Clad in a familiar dark grey sweater, the silhouette, by its posture, was unmistakably his grandfather, who customarily sat there, wracked by coughs.

As Fang Cheng drew nearer, the offensive odor intensified.

His gaze sharpened, finally identifying the origin of the unsettling miasma.

An overpowering stench, akin to decaying fish and spoiled meat, perpetually wafted from the threads of that dark grey sweater, causing his eyes to water and sting.