Start with push-ups to gain experience

"Like sunlight piercing through the darkness, dawn quietly sweeps across the horizon..."

The rousing anime theme song kept echoing in my ears.

Immediately afterwards, the sound of a little boy cheering and running footsteps came from the stairwell.

The vibrations made the floorboards of the old, self-built house creak and thud, and even the bed frame trembled slightly.

Fang Cheng turned over and adjusted his sleeping position.

A few seconds later, he suddenly opened his eyes and stared at the mottled, yellowed ceiling for a moment.

"Where...is this?"

He squinted, braced himself on the hard bed with both hands, and slowly sat up.

The quilt on my body was a little damp and felt heavy against my chest.

My head felt like it was stuffed with a wad of waterlogged cotton, making my thoughts sluggish and heavy.

Fang Cheng lowered his head, his gaze falling on his hands.

These are the hands of a young boy.

Her fingers were slender, and her wrists were so thin that they looked as if they would break if you bent them too hard.

The skin on her palms was fair and delicate, without even a trace of calluses.

Fang Cheng tried to clench his fist.

The feedback from the muscles was extremely weak, and not a single bit of explosive power could be squeezed out of the whole body. The person was as weak as someone who had just recovered from a serious illness.

A strong sense of physiological dislocation welled up inside me; something just didn't feel right.

He clearly remembers that his name is Fang Cheng, he is fifteen years old, and he is a junior high school student at Pingjiang County No. 3 Middle School.

But this thin body felt completely unfamiliar to him, as if he were wearing a piece of clothing that was two sizes too small.

"Fang Cheng, what time is it? Still lying in bed? Get up and eat breakfast!"

A powerful soprano voice came from downstairs, interrupting his thoughts.

Upon hearing this voice, Fang Cheng instinctively recalled memories of his mother.

She was an ordinary middle-aged woman with a very loud voice and a quick temper, who toiled all day long over daily necessities.

"understood!"

He replied, rubbed his temples, threw back the covers, and slipped his feet into the plastic slippers beside the bed.

He then walked to the door, grasped the patina-covered spherical doorknob, and twisted it hard.

"crunch-"

The door is pushed open.

The sizzling sound of hot oil popping in the wok, mixed with the aroma of caramelized fried eggs, wafted up.

Fang Cheng walked down the narrow wooden stairs.

The not-so-spacious living room on the first floor was filled with the unique aroma of cooking in the early morning.

Several pieces of clothing that hadn't been folded yet were piled on the old fabric sofa.

The CRT television across the street is playing "Ultraman Tiga".

"Take this! Dynamic Light Wave!"

A little boy, about seven or eight years old, with a watermelon-shaped haircut, suddenly darted out from behind the sofa.

He held a chipped plastic toy gun in his hand and rammed it straight into Fang Cheng's calf like a cannonball.

The force wasn't actually that great, but Fang Cheng's body was so thin and weak that he was knocked back half a step.

His shoulder slammed against the wooden door frame with a dull thud.

"Xiao Rui, stop fooling around."

Fang Cheng looked down at his younger brother, whose face was covered in snot, reached out and pressed his head down, pushing him aside.

"What are you doing? Running around the house like crazy so early in the morning!"

A middle-aged woman wearing a floral apron came out of the kitchen carrying a plate.

She had fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and her hair was casually tied back with a hair clip as she walked quickly to the dining table.

With a "thud," a plate of golden fried eggs was slammed down.

She turned and glared at the little boy, then her gaze fell on Fang Cheng, her brows furrowing.
"What are you still standing there for? Go wash your face and brush your teeth. You're always dawdling."

“Look at your physique, you’re as skinny as a bamboo pole, you’d fall over in the wind, you don’t look like your dad at all.”

Although she kept muttering about her son, she still picked up her chopsticks and placed the two best-fried eggs directly into Fang Cheng's special porcelain bowl with a rooster pattern.

Fang Cheng went to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and quickly washed his face with cold water.

Water droplets dripped down his chin, the cold touch clearing his mind somewhat.

After drying his face with a towel, he quickly walked to the dining table, pulled out a wooden chair, and sat down.

Across the table, a middle-aged man wearing a faded yellow tank top was drinking porridge from a bowl.

The man had rough skin, a stubble beard, and was holding half a fried dough stick in his hand.

He glanced at Fang Cheng, took a big bite of the fried dough stick, and said as he chewed:
"You're already in the final year of junior high, so you should focus more on your studies. You barely passed your math quiz last week."

"Pay attention in class today, don't be all sickly and listless."

Fang Cheng picked up his chopsticks and poked at the white rice porridge in the bowl. Steam rose up and made his face feel hot.

"Got it, Dad."

He responded softly.

"Cough...cough...cough..."

A series of intermittent dry coughs could be heard from outside the courtyard.

Through the half-open glass sliding door, you can see an elderly man with gray hair lying on a rattan chair, holding an enamel teacup in his hand, hunching over and spitting into a spittoon.

"Dad, it's windy outside, put on a coat!"

The mother called out from across the living room, then turned to urge Fang Cheng:

"Eat quickly, the eggs will taste fishy when they get cold."

Fang Cheng picked up a piece of fried egg and put it in his mouth.

The edges are crispy, the inside is soft and tender, and it has a savory flavor from soy sauce and scallions.

He swallowed his food and then drank a large mouthful of warm rice porridge.

The warm current slid down my esophagus into my stomach, instantly dispelling the chill of the morning.

The aroma of food, the nagging of family members, the slurping sound of my father drinking porridge, and the explosion sound of a monster falling to the ground on the TV.

Everything was so vivid, so real.

It was so real that he forcibly suppressed the sense of unease in his mind, and his body instinctively blended into this mundane daily life.

A few minutes later.

Fang Cheng put down the empty bowl, grabbed a tissue, and wiped his mouth.

He stood up, walked to the entrance, pulled down the canvas backpack hanging on the wall hook, and slung it over one shoulder.

Then he squatted down and put on the sneakers whose soles were worn unevenly.

"I'm full, I'm going to school."

Fang Cheng called out to someone inside.

The mother poked half her body out of the kitchen, holding a half-washed dishcloth in her hand, and loudly instructed:

"The weather forecast says it will rain tonight. Take that black umbrella by the door with you, or you'll catch a cold."

"I brought it."

Fang Cheng casually picked up the long-handled black umbrella leaning against the shoe cabinet and patted the side pocket of his backpack.

Then, we walked through the courtyard with several pots of roses, opened the iron gate, and stepped into the somewhat deserted street.

The iron gate slammed shut behind them, shutting out the coughing and noise from the television.

In the early morning, a thin layer of mist permeated the small county town.

Steam rose from the steamer baskets of the roadside bun shop, and bicycle bells rang in unison as people rushed to work.

The surrounding scenery was as familiar as ever, yet it also felt somewhat strange.

Fang Cheng was somewhat uneasy and slowly walked along the path in the riverside park.

whoosh-

A gust of cold wind, carrying moisture, blew by, swirling up a few withered yellow leaves that landed on my calves.

He suddenly stopped and looked through the sparse willow branches toward the riverbank.

In the shadow of that backlit bridge arch, there seemed to be a distorted black shadow standing.

The creature's proportions were extremely bizarre; its torso was twisted together like a pretzel, and its long, thin hands almost dragged on the ground.

Fang Cheng's eyelids twitched suddenly, and he immediately raised his hand to rub his eyes. When he looked again, the riverbank was empty.

Only a piece of withered, black wood remained submerged in the murky river water, bobbing up and down with the waves.

Are you seeing things?

Fang Cheng lowered his hand, his brows furrowing unconsciously.

The chill, as if being watched by some cold-blooded animal, still lingered on the skin of my back.

Hey! What are you daydreaming about so early in the morning?

Suddenly, someone slapped me hard on the shoulder from behind.

Fang Cheng turned his head to look over there.

A boy with thick-rimmed black glasses and a bowl cut was grinning at him.

This is his only friend in the class, Zhou Ming.

"Hurry up, the first period is that menopausal old Wang's math class. If we're late, we'll definitely be made to stand in the hallway as punishment!"

Zhou Ming shoved Fang Cheng, his face contorted with misery as he complained incessantly:

"Also, the afternoon PE class has a 1,000-meter run test, which is going to kill me."

"With our small builds, it would be so embarrassing if we came in last place and the girls laughed at us."

Fang Cheng casually responded with a couple of words.

Zhou Ming was a chatterbox who couldn't stay still. After complaining about class, he leaned closer with shining eyes:

"By the way, our 'Supernatural Phenomena Research Club' is just one person short to make up the total number. If no one comes, the student council will disband it. Are you coming or not?"

"Let me tell you, the day before yesterday someone in the next county took a picture of a real UFO. Also, during our research club's expedition to the abandoned hospital last time, we heard a woman crying..."

Seeing that Fang Cheng's expression remained unchanged, he immediately offered an even greater temptation:

"I'll give you the vice president position immediately if you join!"

"Not interested."

Fang Cheng resolutely refused.

"No way, just do me a favor. You don't need to do any work, you can just be listed as a coworker..."

The two were pulling at each other as they walked into the school gate.

Ring ring—

A piercing school bell suddenly rang out over the campus.

Zhou Ming's face turned pale, he let out a strange cry, and grabbed Fang Cheng, running wildly towards the teaching building.

When the two rushed into the classroom and sat down in their seats...

Fang Cheng felt a burning pain in his chest, like a bellows being pulled, and his legs were trembling uncontrollably.

He couldn't help but sigh inwardly, realizing that the physical condition of this body was shockingly poor.

The first lesson was dry math.

The chalk made a monotonous tapping sound as it rubbed against the blackboard, and the math teacher's hypnotic voice echoed from the podium.

Fang Cheng rested his chin on his hand, his gaze passing over the windowsill and landing on the gray sky outside.

The twisted, dark shadow he saw by the river that morning lingered in his mind as if it had taken root.

He had a naturally keen intuition and always felt that there was some kind of inexplicable danger lurking in this seemingly peaceful and tranquil small county town.

Moreover, ever since I woke up this morning, that strong sense of unease has lingered in my mind.

It's as if I'm in layers of fog, and some important memory is being obscured.

"Fang Cheng!"

The voice on the podium suddenly rose in volume, interrupting his thoughts.

"Stand up and tell me how to draw the auxiliary lines for this solid geometry problem on the blackboard!"

Fang Cheng snapped out of his daze, pulled out a chair, and stood up.

Faced with the dense geometric figures and function symbols on the blackboard, my mind went blank.

A suppressed burst of laughter rose from all around.

A few mischievous boys sitting in the back row even whistled gleefully.

"Don't let your mind wander in class. If you don't understand something, then..."

The teacher on the podium shook his head, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes, and waved his hand, preparing to let him sit down.

Just then, Fang Cheng's eyes narrowed slightly.

Deep in my mind, it was as if an extremely faint flash of lightning suddenly pierced through the fog, briefly tearing away the mist.

What were originally complex geometric figures, as incomprehensible as celestial script, were instantly broken down into the most basic lines and planes in his eyes.

The massive computational logic, as if by instinct, leaped directly into my mind.

He didn't think for long before calmly speaking:
"Establish a rectangular coordinate system with point D as the origin, and connect point P and point A..."

The boy answered the questions in a low voice, but his words were clear and his reasoning was logical.

Each step precisely addresses the core of the problem.

The previously noisy classroom instantly fell silent.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

The students who had been waiting to see a joke turn around and look at Fang Cheng standing in his seat as if he were a monster.

The math teacher on the podium stared wide-eyed, his hand holding half a piece of chalk frozen in mid-air, his face filled with astonishment and disbelief.

This was the last major question on the mock exam that the city just released yesterday.

Her intention was merely to use this as an opportunity to give Fang Cheng a wake-up call for his daydreaming in class; she had no expectation that any student would be able to answer the question.

"Teacher, do I still need to find the cosine value of the dihedral angle?"

Fang Cheng's tone remained calm.

"No...no need, it's perfectly correct, the logic is very clear."

The math teacher stammered for a moment, then quickly coughed to cover up his embarrassment.

Her gaze towards Fang Cheng held a hint of strangeness, but also a touch of undisguised admiration:

"Sit down. Pay attention in class from now on. With your talent for learning, as long as you put in the effort, you will definitely be able to get into the city's top middle school."

Fang Cheng nodded calmly, pulled out a chair, and sat down again.

Zhou Ming, standing next to him, was completely dumbfounded, his mouth agape as he stared at him like he was an alien.

The rest of the classes and the afternoon physical education test proceeded without any further incidents.

The mundane daily life on campus passed by unnoticed.

Night quickly enveloped the small county town.

The sky was overcast, and a light autumn rain began to fall.

After saying goodbye to Zhou Ming, Fang Cheng, holding a long-handled black umbrella, walked home along the wet street.

He pushed open the iron gate of the courtyard and stepped into the house, where a steaming hot dinner was already laid out on the table, waiting for him.

After dinner, Fang Cheng was urged by his parents to go upstairs to his bedroom to do his homework.

Downstairs in the living room, the television was playing an evening drama series, occasionally interspersed with the sounds of parents arguing about household expenses.

Fang Cheng sat at his desk, biting his pen, and looked at his textbook for a while.

I just can't concentrate.

The twisted black shadow I glimpsed under the bridge by the river that morning, and the image of myself solving a difficult math problem as if by divine intervention, kept flashing back and forth before my eyes.

The rain outside the window was getting heavier and heavier, and the raindrops hit the glass, making a dense "pattering" sound.

A gust of cold wind blew in through the cracks in the window, making the exam papers on the table rustle.

Fang Cheng stood up and walked to the window to close it.

As soon as his palm touched the aluminum alloy window frame, a few drops of rainwater, blown off course by the wind, splashed onto the back of his hand.

Fang Cheng paused slightly.

By the light of the desk lamp, he noticed that the water droplets on the back of his hand were not transparent, but rather had a cloudy, gelatinous texture.

He immediately grabbed the handle of the aluminum window and pulled hard to lock the latch completely.

He then turned around, casually pulled a tissue from the tissue box on the table, and wiped the back of his hand.

A black stain, resembling ink, immediately spread across the surface of the tissue.

Immediately afterwards, a strong, fishy stench, like that of rotting dead fish, assaulted my nostrils.

This rain is black!

Fang Cheng's eyes narrowed slightly. (End of Chapter)