Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups

Whoosh!

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Fists cutting through the air, soles scraping the rubber floor.

Under the spotlight.

A lean figure stands in the center of the boxing ring, continuously making side flash swinging motions.

Straight Punch, jab, hook punch, swing punch.

His gaze focused, the movements of his punches, his footwork, meticulous.

Though slightly stiff, there's an indescribable sense of earnestness.

With each repetition, it's as if he's making subtle adjustments, slowly improving.

Until he becomes smoother and more coordinated...

"Fang Cheng, come over and help move the mats!"

A sudden call interrupts his engrossed practice.

"Coming right away."

Fang Cheng pauses, catching his breath for a few moments.

Then he picks up the mop and bucket that were set aside, and steps down from the freshly cleaned boxing ring.

"You really like boxing, you could apply to be a sparring partner; the pay is better."

"That won't do, if his face gets messed up, we'd definitely have fewer female members coming to our club..."

Facing his colleagues' banter, Fang Cheng does not reply.

Silently, he picks up two sponge mats and heads towards the equipment room.

Busy for half an hour.

Outside the window, the city under the night sky was dimly lit.

"Finally off work!"

"Let's go have a drink."

"Can't, I still need to pick up my girlfriend..."

As the sounds of conversation and clocking out became sparse, the large venue fell silent.

Fang Cheng looks up at the wall clock.

21:35.

It's still early; time for a free hot shower.

In the shower room reserved for trainees, the sound of running water soon starts.

Ten minutes later.

Fang Cheng, now in clean shorts, stepping on mosaic tiles, walks out of the shower area.

The lights over the washbasin are bright, and the mirror reflects his current appearance.

Shoulders slender, slightly bony, his skin pale without much color.

His facial features, however, grew more distinct and sharp because of this; the straight bridge of his nose, thin lips, all revealing a fragile air.

At this moment, his damp hair, messy and clinging to his forehead, covers half of his eyes and brows.

From any angle, he looked like the type of pretty boy that girls would fancy.

"What's the use of being good-looking, still can't find a good job..."

Fang Cheng gives a wry smile, then quickly dries his hair with a towel.

He then hurriedly puts on his coat, packs up his things, and grabbing his cross-body bag, heads outside.

In the blurry night, neon signs flicker.

Displaying "Global Elite Fighting Club" in bold letters.

Just stepping out the glass door, a cold wind hits him, as if countless fine needles piercing his skin.

People on the street all walk with their heads down, fully suited up.

Fang Cheng turns up the collar of his jacket, hands stuffed into pockets.

Also, with bag on his back, he hastens his steps towards the nearby bus stop.

Hopefully, he can catch the last bus.

The weather forecast said, on November 20th, the first cold wave of winter will hit East City.

With this ghastly weather, if he walks home, he'll surely catch a cold the next day.

Under the bus shelter, a few sparse passengers stand, continuously breathing warm air and stamping their feet.

There is also a young lady in a mini-skirt and thermal socks with a portable music player, listening to music with earphones.

Fang Cheng walks to a corner and joins the waiting line.

Standing silently, his blue canvas bag suddenly vibrates with a ringing tone.

"Mom…"

"I've eaten, been working overtime just now."

Fang Cheng pulls out his cellphone from the bag, talking to his mother who works as a nursing aide in a hospital.

"Has the money been deposited?"

"It's okay, I've entered a big corporation as an intern now, I'm not short of money, grandpa's illness is more important."

"Mhm, mhm... I know, you also take care of yourself, it's getting colder recently…"

Only half a minute into the conversation, amid his mother's reminders, Fang Cheng gently presses the end call button.

He looks up, only to find that the gaze of those around him seems to be drawn to him.

Fang Cheng shakes his head discreetly, carefully hiding the expensive phone back into his bag.

Perhaps in their eyes, he is also someone of status?

This is a new product launched by Noah Company last year.

Compared to the previous "big bricks", it's much smaller, supports text messaging, and is also less expensive.

He scrimped and saved two months of salary, rented a second-hand unit from the market.

Spending so much was simply to make job-hunting more convenient.

Now, it seems to serve more as a status symbol, he almost can't even afford the monthly fee.

Thinking this, Fang Cheng's eyes dim slightly.

Despite having a degree in law from a prestigious university, his poor public speaking skills, combined with some sensitive and special reasons.

Nearly a year and a half after graduation, he still hasn't found a job he likes.

He didn't want to stay idle at home, so he chose to do part-time jobs while continuing to study hard, preparing to join the massive legion of postgraduate entrance exam candidates.

Thinking about his classmates from affluent families.

Before even graduating, they were either arranged by their parents to take civil service exams or entered big corporations and famous law firms as interns.

Fang Cheng harbors no envy.

For someone born into a humble background and used to solving problems, perhaps exams are the fairest way out.

Not comparing connections, resources, or impressive CVs with others.

He just feels a bit unwilling…

Raising his head, looking at the sky blocked by towering skyscrapers, leaving only a sliver visible.

Fang Cheng squinted his eyes, his gaze flickering.

This world, compared to the previous one, seems yet unlike.

Both boasting modern civilization, bustling cities.

But with uneven development in various fields of technology, greater disparity between the rich and the poor, sharper social contradictions.

Like the current Great Xia Republic, where wealthy families dominate the major promotion channels, monopolizing most of the resources.

Class stratification has reached a point where everyone can curse but feels helpless.

Struggling commoners who rely solely on hard work to climb the social ladder find it profoundly difficult...

"Burp~"

An unkempt middle-aged man with a drunken face approached unknowingly and stood beside him.

The choking odor of alcohol and sweat assaulted his senses.

Fang Cheng glanced sideways and discreetly moved a few steps away from the drunk.

Others waiting for the bus did similar.

Yet, the drunk, oblivious, continued to guzzle from the beer can in his hand.

Appearing bored, he mumbled a few words then started to playfully harass the woman nearby.

His words were filthy and unbearable to hear.

He even went as far to lift the young lady's skirt, which scared her into fleeing in terror.

The drunk was unashamed, laughing boisterously and casually tossing the empty can onto the roadside.

Seeing this, Fang Cheng just frowned slightly without uttering a word.

Having been through the harsh realities of society for a long time, his approach had grown as cold and practical as those around him.

In recent years, with the economy faltering, marginalized groups have grown, naturally deteriorating public safety.

There had even been a gang clash recently that made the news.

"Just like the dreadful weather..."

Fang Cheng exhaled a white breath, looking across the street at a group of oddly dressed youths, silently pondering.

"Hey, little girl, what are you doing?!"

Suddenly, a loud shout disrupted his thoughts.

He saw the drunk pointing at a nearby trash can.

There stood a skinny little girl, clutching a bulging, tattered sack.

Her dirty face betrayed nervous and frightened confusion.

"What are you doing with my things?"

The drunk interrogated again.

The girl realized and looked down at the recently picked beer can, explaining timidly,

"I thought you didn't want it anymore..."

"What do you mean, didn't want? Is this how your parents taught you? To take things without asking?"

"Then... I'll give it back to you..."

The girl lowered her head, hesitantly reaching out her frostbitten hand to return the two-cents-worth can.

The drunk stubbornly slapped the can from her grip.

"Your dirty hands have touched it, how can I drink from it now? Disgusting, ill-mannered brat..."

Everyone waiting for the bus wrinkled their brows, holding back their comments.

The drunk, muttering curses, seemed to recall some unpleasant memories, becoming even more agitated.

"Damn it, that bitch looks down on me, cheated on me, and now even a little girl like you dares to disrespect me!"

He grabbed the sack from her hand, attempting to snatch it away.

"No, no!"

The girl desperately protected her hard-earned scavenging haul.

But lacking strength, she could only embrace the sack with her entire body, ending up kneeling on the ground.

Fang Cheng's frown deepened, almost twisting into a knot.

Suddenly inhaling deeply, he turned around.

"Sir, that's enough."

"What? Are you talking to me?"

The drunk hesitated, then let go and turned, glaring at Fang Cheng.

Fang Cheng, holding his temper, tried to speak in a calm tone:

"Life is hard for everyone, let's be considerate of each other."

However, these words did not persuade but encouraged the drunk's aggressiveness.

"You brat, what right do you have to lecture me? Are you a cop, or some rich guy? Don't be arrogant!"

The drunk spat as he spoke, pushing Fang Cheng.

Fang Cheng stumbled back a few steps and couldn't help but push back.

In the scuffle, the drunken man suddenly became furiously violent.

"Pretty boy dares to fight back, I'll kill you!"

Leveraging his bulky frame, he swung his fist aiming to hit.

Fang Cheng's heart lurched, his pupils dilated.

A flash of boxing in the ring crossed his mind.

Instinctively, he lowered his center of gravity, twisted his shoulder and hips, and threw a punch with his rear hand.

Bang!

A Side Flash Straight Punch, crossing past the swinging arm, solidly hit the nose.

"Ah—"

The drunk cried out, covering his face, somewhat dazed.

Only feeling a buzzing in his head, a mix of sweet, spicy, sour, and salty tastes surged forth.

Then, two streams of bright red liquid slowly flowed from his nostrils.

He touched the blood, looked at it.

Instantly enraged and embarrassed, cursing foully, he lunged again.

Bang!

The same punch, same spot.

The drunk staggered and fell on his buttocks, sobering up quite a bit.

He spat out some blood, seemingly having loosened some teeth.

Clearly unprepared to be beaten up by a seemingly frail pretty boy.

Stunned for a while, unable to advance or retreat.

Seeing this, Fang Cheng stopped, shook his head and sighed,

"Sir, it's getting cold, better head home."

At that moment, the distant "woop woop" of police sirens could be faintly heard.

The middle-aged man jolted, scrambled up, and ran off.

In an instant, he was out of sight.

The surrounding crowd and passers-by, witnessing this scene, pointed and commented in surprise.

Fang Cheng caught his breath, picked up his bag tossed aside, silently patted it, and slung it back over his shoulder.

He turned to look at the little girl's tear-streaked smiling face.

Though gaining no profit nor favor, a strange emotion surged within him.

A warm glow in his chest, like a torch ignited in the cold winter night.

It warmed him and illuminated the chilly darkness around.

Fang Cheng's eyes flickered.

A line of text, like a game prompt, appeared before him.

[You defeated an evenly matched opponent, boxing skills experience +20]