Chapter 46: Today Is Your Birthday

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"Hey, big star, you finished shooting your scenes?"

It was the morning at the boxing gym when Paul, munching on a hamburger, walked over.

"Yes, want an autograph?"

Richard panted, putting away his jump rope.

"No, thanks. I heard you were just a minor character. What kind of big star are you?"

Paul scoffed.

"Alright, Paul, do you know what you're missing out on? The very first autograph of the future world superstar Richard Brad. I really feel sorry for you."

Richard chuckled and resumed his jump rope practice, his feet tapping the ground so fast it was like a typewriter on overdrive.

"Hmph."

That bastard's speed is still so impressive, it makes me jealous.

Paul sneered and clapped his hands, shouting, "Faster, Richard, you're too slow. Have you been training at all? How are you supposed to compete with Oni Smith like this? Faster, come on, faster!"

Richard ignored him. This guy had been beaten by Alvin so many times that he liked to imitate Alvin's way of talking.

"Richard, look at you, your legs are weak. Are you fooling around on the set, making your legs go soft? Hahaha!"

Paul laughed, showing his white teeth.

"Ahem, ahem."

Suddenly, two coughs sounded behind him, and Paul's laughter stopped abruptly. He scratched his head and moved to the barbell rack, grabbing a 180-pound barbell and started lifting with grunts.

"Eight sets of strength training today. If you can't finish, no dinner."

Alvin said coldly.

"Eight sets? That's too much."

"Too little? Then make it ten sets."

Alvin said.

"No, eight sets are fine. A man's word is his bond."

Paul shouted.

Alvin glanced at him and then walked over to Richard, observing him for a while. "Not bad, it seems you didn't mess around on set."

Thwap, thwap!

Richard's hand slipped, and he almost tripped over the rope.

"Haha, Alvin, look, his legs are weak. He definitely fooled around."

Paul laughed again.

"Shut up!"

Alvin grabbed a thick pad from the rack. "Come on, let's spar. I want to see if you've regressed."

"Alright!"

Richard put away the jump rope, donned his gloves, and stepped into the ring.

Bam, bam!

Richard bounced on his feet, his fists hitting the pad rhythmically.

"Hit harder, go all out!"

Alvin shouted.

Bam, bam!

Richard increased his power, his fists pounding the pad fiercely, causing Alvin to take two steps back.

"Keep going, continuous punches. I need to see your stamina."

Alvin roared.

Without a word, Richard continued to punch, the sound echoing off the pad. The old man retreated, adjusting his stance to continue holding the pad as a target.

Bam, bam, bam!

After landing over 180 powerful punches, each one at full strength, Richard was sweating profusely, his arm muscles heating up, and his punches gradually weakening.

"Keep going!"

Alvin barked.

Richard gritted his teeth, delivering another sixty punches. Sweat dripped from his face, and his breathing grew ragged.

"Keep going!"

"I won't move. If you can make me take three steps back, you've passed."

Alvin shouted.

Tsk.

Paul smirked below the ring. The old man would be disappointed. Richard had thrown over 200 heavy punches, and his breathing was erratic. His arm muscles were twitching, showing signs of exhaustion. How could he possibly...

Roar!

Suddenly, a roar came from the ring. Richard pulled back his right fist and smashed it into the thick pad with renewed force.

Bam!

Alvin's body swayed but steadied.

Heh heh.

I knew it.

Paul grinned.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Just then, Richard threw three more rapid and heavy punches.

With the first punch, Alvin's body shook violently. As he was about to adjust his footing, the second and third punches followed quickly, making him stumble and fall on his butt.

"…"

Paul's mouth hung open. Oh, fuck, wasn't he out of strength? How did he suddenly unleash such power?

"Huff... Paul, do you know the difference between you and Richard?"

Alvin, sitting on the floor, asked.

"What difference?"

Paul asked, confused.

"Richard's body holds great potential. Even when he's exhausted, he can still burst with power a few more times. But when you're out of strength, you can only defend passively and get beaten. Do you know why that is?"

Alvin asked seriously.

"Why?"

Paul blinked.

"Because you're lazy. Not everyone has potential. It needs constant honing and years of accumulation, repeatedly surpassing oneself."

"I make you do eight sets of strength training and an hour of speed training every day, yet you cut corners."

"But Richard doesn't need me to push him. Every time he trains, he gives it his all until he's exhausted. That's the difference between you two. Understand?"

Alvin said plainly.

"I get it."

Paul nodded.

"Get it? Then why are you still standing here?!"

Alvin roared.

"Okay, okay, I'll get to it!"

Paul scurried away.

Alvin shook his head, about to get up when he suddenly groaned.

"What's wrong?"

Richard asked, supporting him.

"Easy, easy. I'm getting old. I can't handle falls like this anymore."

Alvin rubbed his back.

"Do you want to see a doctor?"

"No need. It's an old problem. It's not serious."

Richard helped the old man down from the ring.

"Richard, you have four matches this year. Your schedule is tight. Put acting aside for now."

Alvin said.

"I understand."

"Good. Keep training."

Alvin walked away, massaging his waist.

Richard continued with strength and speed training. When Paul finished lifting weights, the two of them practiced offense and defense in the ring.

By 3 PM, Richard left the gym, bought two bouquets at a flower shopâ€"one of cornflowers and one of red roses.

At the South Bronx Cemetery, Richard stood quietly before a tombstone. The man in the photo was handsome, and the woman was gentle and beautiful, but they had died too young.

Richard sighed heavily, wiping the dust off the photos with a white silk handkerchief.

"Dad, Mom, I've had a great year. I found a beautiful girlfriend, six feet tall, with a perfect figure. She could become a supermodel. Next year, I'll bring her to see you."

"Recently, I fought and easily beat Montel, the champion. I made a lot of money and bought our house back. Dad, aren't I amazing?"

"Last month, I landed a role in a big production with Oscar-winning actors."

"Really, the lead actor is Michael Douglas, the one from 'Wall Street.' Mom, you probably know him. He even taught me to act and said I did great. He believes I'll win an Oscar someday."

"Mom, didn't you want to be a star? Your son will definitely become a superstar. When that happens, I'll come here and sign an autograph for you. Anyway, I've had a great year, just really miss you both."

As the sun set, Richard sighed. "That's it for now. There's a lot of people waiting to celebrate my birthday. We'll talk next time."

He kissed the tombstone, turned, and left the cemetery. Today was his birthday. He was twenty years old.

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