Reborn as a high school freshman with an awakened system, a fat boy transforms into a male god.

"Did it work?" Wang Xiulan asked.

"I think so."

Wang Xiulan put down her chopsticks, leaned forward slightly, and said seriously, "Then lift it up and let Mom take a look."

Lin Bei's chopsticks stopped in mid-air, and he hadn't even swallowed the food in his mouth yet, so he just stared at her with his mouth half open.

"Mom, please don't..."

"What? You can't even look at your own son?" Wang Xiulan said matter-of-factly. "If you don't lift it up, I'll pretend you haven't practiced. If you haven't practiced, then don't lie on the floor every night whimpering like a pig waiting to be slaughtered."

Lin Bei: "..."

He paused for a moment, then slowly put down his chopsticks and lifted the hem of his T-shirt.

Wang Xiulan moved closer and scanned his abdomen with her eyes.

"Hmm..." she drawled, "There is indeed a mark."

She gestured with her hand, "It used to be flat, but now you can see a few shallow furrows. They're not very obvious, but you can see them if you look closely. Like... freshly plowed land."

Lin Bei was silent for two seconds: "...Then next time I practice, should I draw a cow on my stomach?"

"Pfft..." Lin Jianhua choked on a mouthful of rice and waved his hand, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He coughed twice before swallowing the rice.

He put the bowl on the table, took a tissue to wipe his mouth, and tried his best to maintain a serious expression, but the smile in his eyes was impossible to hide: "Your mother used a good analogy. Freshly plowed land really does look like that. I had the same effect when I practiced it back then."

Wang Xiulan glanced at him: "You gave up after practicing until you reached the 'freshly plowed field' level, and you have the nerve to say that?"

"I call it knowing when to stop." Lin Jianhua picked up his bowl again, took a bite of vegetables, and said, "Practice until you can see the ditch, there's no need to practice until you can see the ridges. Think about it, if you can't plow anymore halfway through, it means that the land is not suitable for growing crops and you should move it to another place."

"So you moved to the beer garden?"

Lin Jianhua: "..."

He looked down at his slightly protruding belly, paused for two seconds, and then said in an extremely serious tone, "This piece of land of mine is not planted with crops, but with sentiments."

"The sentiments of a middle-aged man." Lin Jianhua couldn't help but chuckle after saying that. "You don't understand, it's a sign of maturity. Young people pursue form, middle-aged people pursue substance."

Lin Bei sat beside him, chopsticks in hand, head down, eating his rice, his shoulders trembling slightly. He didn't dare look up, afraid that if he did, he would burst out laughing, and his abs would ache.

[Comrade Lin Jianhua's "beer-growing" theory has been officially added to the system's golden quote database. In layman's terms: Some bellies are naturally suited for holding beer, not abs. The system advises the host not to adopt his father's "sentimental theory," otherwise the abs awakening mission will be permanently shelved.]

Wang Xiulan didn't pursue the matter further, turning her gaze back to Lin Bei: "Tell Mom, are those abs difficult to work out?"

"It's alright." Lin Bei took another bite of rice. "It's just that when I woke up the day after the first day of practice, it felt like someone had cleaved me in two."

"And the third day?"

"It's better on the third day. I can hold back my moans when I bend over to put on my shoes."

Wang Xiulan nodded: "That's alright. Your dad gave up after three days of practice, saying it was too painful and he didn't want to suffer like that. You're better than him."

Lin Jianhua: "..."

He picked up a piece of green vegetable with his chopsticks, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and said slowly, "I call that cutting my losses. Think about it, if you work out your abs to the point where you can barely walk, what's the point of working out at all? You have to learn to make peace with your body."

"You've made up with your beer belly pretty well," Wang Xiulan said.

Lin Jianhua: "...The food's all cold."

Lin Bei chewed his rice, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father shoveling rice into his mouth, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up slightly.

It was a strange feeling. After his rebirth, everything changed: his weight, his grades, even the girl across from him. But the usual dinner table routine of "mother arguing with father, father making excuses, and him trying not to laugh" never seemed to change. And suddenly, he felt that if life could always be like this, it wouldn't be so bad.

[Detected that the host's mother has just completed a classic "praising son and belittling husband" interaction. From a family relationship model perspective, the host is the beneficiary of this event. It is recommended that the host pretend not to hear and continue eating.]

Lin Bei lowered his head and ate two more mouthfuls of rice, finishing the rice in his bowl. Then he put down his chopsticks and helped his mother clear the table.

He returned to his bedroom, sat down at his desk, and turned on his computer to write his novel. He had just typed two lines when his phone vibrated.

Messages from Wang Jun popped up one after another, his typing speed as fast as ever:

"Brother Bei! Brother Bei! Brother Bei!!!!!"

"I've finished tidying up the accounts for today! I'd like to update you on the recent business situation at the snack shop!"

"As a shareholder, you need to know the situation in the store."

Below was a picture. Lin Bei clicked on it; it was a photo of a handwritten ledger, the handwriting neat and tidy, with each column clearly listed: date, cost of goods purchased, sales revenue, agency commission, rent, and net income. At the bottom, a line of numbers was written in red and circled, next to which was a smiley face drawn, its eyes squinting into slits.

Lin Bei zoomed in to take a look, then switched the image to the chat window and replied, "Not bad."

"Thanks for the shareholders' support! Last month, after deducting rent, inventory, and agency commissions, I made a net profit of around 13,000. This month, it should reach 16,000." After posting this, Wang Jun followed up with another message, "Brother Bei, speaking of which, I haven't calculated your shareholder dividend for you yet. According to our previous agreement of a 50/50 split, I've kept a separate record of your share. Do you want me to transfer it to you now?"

Lin Bei thought for a moment and replied, "I'll leave it with you for now."

"Okay. I'll keep it as working capital first, and settle the accounts together later. Don't worry, I'll keep separate records, and not a penny will be missing."

Lin Bei put down his phone, sat at his desk for a while, then turned on his computer and continued writing his novel.

By the time he finished writing two chapters, it was almost ten o'clock. He stood up and stretched his shoulders, then lay back down and did four sets of push-ups and four sets of crunches.

[4 sets of 48 push-ups, 4 sets of 80 crunches. Effective repetitions: 48 push-ups, 77 crunches. Three invalid repetitions occurred due to incomplete abdominal engagement.]

Lin Bei lay on the ground, catching his breath.

[The system advises the host not to try to slack off under the system's watchful eye next time. A 3.75 percentage point error, while not large, will delay the formation of abdominal muscles by about 1.5 days.]

Lin Bei got up, did three more standard crunches, and then went to the bathroom to take a shower.

The next day was Friday.

After finishing his run, Lin Bei went to room 502 for breakfast. Su Wantang had made brown rice porridge today, served with a golden-brown fried egg and a small dish of chopped walnuts.

The brown rice porridge is cooked until thick and fluffy, with the grains already split open. It has a unique chewy texture characteristic of whole grains, neither too soft nor too hard, and you can taste a faint aroma of rice as you chew it.

The walnut pieces were freshly shelled, neither too big nor too small. They were sprinkled on the surface of the porridge, and after stirring with a spoon, you could chew on a few pieces with every sip. The fried egg was cooked to perfection, with crispy edges and a runny yolk that flowed out when poked with chopsticks, mixing into the porridge and giving it a light golden hue.

Su Wantang sat opposite her, head down, drinking her bowl of porridge. There were no walnut pieces in her porridge, only a few goji berries floating on the surface, gleaming dark red in the light from the rim of the bowl.