Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 3 - 2 Experience Panel_2
Previously on Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups...
"Oh."
A quick reply came, and a soft-spoken young woman with a headband hurried forward.
She passed the goods to the lady, stole a look at Fang Cheng, dropped her gaze, and hurried back indoors.
"Your mother is truly so occupied that she loses track of the date today."
The lady pushed a bundle of meticulously made paper garments and ingots into Fang Cheng's grasp.
After that, she added a worried note:
"Make sure to burn these once you're home, and light incense for your father. Oh, and do you have any incense or candles left at your place?"
"Yes, thanks a lot, Auntie He."
Fang Cheng accepted them using both hands, a thankful grin spreading across his features.
He recalled now that today marked the "Cold Clothes Festival," a time to honor the ancestors.
In the rush of urban living these days, the youth seldom keep up with these old customs.
They chatted amiably for a short while before wrapping things up.
Clutching the paper tributes, Fang Cheng unlatched the metal gate plastered with advertisements.
Click—the bulb at the doorway flickered to life.
A classic home steeped in the vibes of the time unfolded before him.
The space wasn't large.
Living area, eatery, and cooking spot all merged together, totaling under thirty square meters.
The aged furniture, seats, and flooring had flaking coats yet gleamed from thorough polishing.
Other furnishings stood orderly too, indicating fresh tidying and scrubbing by someone.
Fang Cheng realized his mom had stopped by.
His mom's dad battled stomach cancer and had traveled from the rural areas to East Capital for medical care and chemo sessions.
Besides her job, she alternated with her sibling to watch over and stay with him.
Exhausted from the constant hustle, she rarely got to return home lately for a restful night.
Fang Cheng quietly slipped off his shoes and stepped inside.
Crossing the groaning wooden boards, he neared the stand holding the television.
There rested a frame with an image of a youthful pair cradling their infant child.
The lady appeared lovely and kind, the gentleman striking and joyful, their gazes brimming with bliss that pierced beyond the frame.
The frame itself shone spotless, with a petite bronze censer positioned thoughtfully before it.
The sticks in the censer had smoldered down completely, just the bamboo cores remaining.
Fang Cheng pulled open the bottom compartment of the stand, rummaging diligently.
Amid the clutter, a faded news sheet emerged.
The brittle page displayed part of a bold title.
"...Killer ends life with own weapon, dark truths lost in blaze..."
At last, he located a partial pack of incense sticks still usable.
Fang Cheng withdrew three, ignited them anew, and set them properly.
Next, gripping a battered white metal bowl, he crouched by the entrance and set fire to the paper outfits and ingots piece by piece.
As wisps of smoke and embers soared upward, Fang Cheng narrowed his eyes a touch.
In the shadows, the glow warmed his skin, his irises dancing with reflections.
Like stirring a memory locked away for years.
Soon enough, the ceremony concluded.
Fang Cheng went back in, rinsed off quickly, and headed to the sleeping room.
He skipped bedding down, opting instead to dive into personal learning.
This combined sleeping and working area measured a mere six square meters.
Within the tight quarters, no playthings or starlet images adorned the walls.
The worktable overflowed with prominent study tomes like "World History," "On Monarchs," "Criminal Psychology," and more.
One volume sat spread wide, bearing the name "General Theory of Criminal Law."
Fang Cheng settled in, lifted the clock, and checked the hour.
10:29.
"I've got an hour and a half left for studying."
He activated the timer right away, then drew in a steadying breath.
All the while, he murmured inwardly:
"Concentration Skill, activate!"
"Speed Reading Skill, activate!"
Suddenly, Fang Cheng's stare steadied, as though a switch flipped within his thoughts.
All prior worries vanished into the distance.
The surrounding clamor—vehicle blasts, infant wails—faded away and vanished...
Fang Cheng remained motionless, his look perfectly serene, yet his eyes darted swiftly.
Every three to four seconds, his digits turned a page.
His gaze gleamed intensely, resembling a scanner capturing the text in the volumes.
The clock's second hand clicked onward with each turn.
As the hefty tome progressed, the unread sections shrank steadily.
Abruptly—
Fang Cheng's forehead creased deeply, discomfort etching his features.
Right then, the clock buzzed with a shrill "ding ling ling."
He let the book fall and hit the stop.
Afterward, he massaged his brow and sides of the head firmly to ease the pounding ache.
Not until several minutes passed did his strained expression soften, and he let out a long sigh.
Before his eyes, lines of tiny text flowed into view.
[Your Concentration Skill Experience +1]
[Your Speed Reading Skill Experience +1]
[Your Concentration Skill Experience +2]
[Your Speed Reading Skill Experience +2]
[Warning! You have mildly strained your Spirit, with suboptimal body status. Rest advised.]
"Looks like combining both skills lets me go for about one hour max..."
Fang Cheng looked a bit ashen while still gently kneading his brow.
Both "Concentration" and "Speed Reading" had reached lv1, and their impacts felt notably stronger.
In turn, the stamina drain, akin to Experience Points, tallied by half-hour units and rose steadily.
The exact variations likely tied to the Spirit Attribute.
Fang Cheng shut his eyes, pondered briefly, and a satisfied look crossed his face.
Earlier, his pace through the pages had been astonishingly swift.
He'd powered through massive books exceeding a thousand pages of intricate legal codes.
Such a feat was once beyond imagination.
Even if it was just a surface skim, capturing the main ideas.
That's fine, though—he could revisit for deeper dives and thoughtful absorption multiple times.
The idea of Reviewing the Old to Understand the New captured it exactly.
Following a brief pause, Fang Cheng started revisiting from page one.
Yet this round, his energy might have worn too thin, or stray ideas were creeping back.
He failed to hold the mindset for skill use, much less the focus for regular study.
"Sigh—"
Fang Cheng shut the volume, grabbed the eyedrops, and applied several to his irritated eyes.
With lids closed, the pale blue panel resurfaced in his thoughts.
Gazing at the list of assorted Skills, his mind wandered freely.
These represented his achievements from the last two months.
Each Skill pointed to unique growth paths.
Cooking Skill? Level it up further to turn into a Special Grade Chef, State Banquet Chef, Food God?
Cleaning? Advance to Cleaning Expert and launch a sanitation business?
Boxing? Enter pro fights, claim belts in multiple categories, vie for Boxing King status?
People's vitality is finite in the end, and life goals demand sharp focus and order.
What route should he pick going forward?
Since gaining the "Boxing" Skill a week back, this dilemma had haunted Fang Cheng's thoughts.
Go for grad school and snag a Master's.
Then leverage it for a spot in a firm's legal team or a law office.
Or linger in school, climb the ranks through titles to lecturer, associate professor, full professor...
Without the Golden Finger, this route would surely suit his situation and roots best.
"But—"
"Suppose this world hides more than the everyday facade?"
Fang Cheng abruptly recalled his sixth birthday evening.
His dad, concealing a firearm, the determined outline as he left through the door.
And that final word:
"Stay alive well—ordinary is plenty!"
The darkness deepened, chills sweeping in gusts.
Fang Cheng chafed his palms, breathing out fog.
Gazing at the hazy glows beyond, the shadowed and frosty metropolis, his eyes sparkled, ideas swirling.
Wealth, authority, justice, strata, vocation...
These remain mere additions to society's framework, after all.
"Imagine if I could grow without end, surpass bodily bounds, and rise above every societal norm..."
Fang Cheng's gaze ignited with intense zeal, like rousing a slumbering creature within.
No matter the roads ahead, a powerful and sturdy body stood as the top foundation.
On that note, he snatched a pen and flipped open his journal.
The nib glided across the sheet, etching a phrase.
"Fitness plan, Prisoner's Training..."