Winter in the city, the sky wasn't blue, and it was even somewhat grey and hazy.
The Route 13 bus belonged to an old model from the eighties, not equipped with an air-conditioning system.
However, it did come with an onboard television, constantly cycling through various entertainment and news programs.
"...A headless Buddha statue has been unearthed at the West Mountain Ruins. Experts estimate that the body buried underground extends over thirty meters in length and may have been destroyed during the anti-Buddhist eradication campaign two thousand years ago in the Yu Dynasty..."
"Some media captured footage of the famous girl group member Xu Meiyuan returning to a hotel with a mysterious man late at night, leaving the next day looking exhausted. Xu Meiyuan has denied the allegations, claiming that the two were just..."
Glancing at the TV screen, Fang Cheng opened the window, allowing the wind to blow his bangs.
Bare plane trees and a disorderly array of billboards and skyscrapers whizzed past him.
"Infertility, painless abortion, Songzibird Gynecological Hospital reminds you..."
"Next stop, Maocheng Intersection, west of Wantong Mall."
Following the voice prompt, Fang Cheng got up from the back seat and headed to the waiting area in advance.
Once the bus stopped with a "clatter" and the door opened, he quickly hopped off with his shoulder bag.
Today was Sunday, and without the usual influx of white-collar workers, the city center felt somewhat vacant.
He walked left along the sidewalk.
A hundred meters away, a shopping plaza displaying wall advertisement could be seen.
Next to door number 3 of the plaza hung a conspicuous sign for the Global Elite Fighting Club.
Fang Cheng, knowing the way well, entered through door number 3 and took the elevator to the second floor.
The club venue was directly opposite the elevator, clearly visible through the transparent floor-to-ceiling glass walls.
At the moment, many colleagues were hurrying over, picking up their bags to clock in at the attendance machine.
A continuous beep beep sound filled the air.
Fang Cheng followed to clock in, checking the time and it was precisely 9:29.
He entered the changing room, where laughter instantly filled his ears.
His colleagues were munching on buns and breakfast they'd bought on the road, chatting casually about various topics.
Some discussed the blood-boiling plot of last night's prime-time drama; others talked about the ball game and calculated odds.
Fang Cheng had no common topics with them, so after changing into his work attire, he headed to training hall number one on his own.
Sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the pale blue plastic flooring bright and dazzling.
Dozens of upright punching posts, hanging sandbags, and a boxing ring at the central spot were distributed here and there.
The thud thud sound of gloves hitting sandbags, accompanied by shouts of varying pitch, rose and fell continuously.
The first class of the day started at 10 o'clock.
Students had already arrived one after another, beginning their practice spontaneously.
Fang Cheng sniffed the residual scent of disinfectant from last night's cleaning and walked towards Coach Hu, who was beckoning to him.
Another busy workday was about to begin.
The teaching strength of this fighting club wasn't fully known, but the hardware conditions were indeed very good.
The venue was spacious with comprehensive training facilities.
The courses offered included Boxing, Sanda, Jujitsu, Muay Thai, Sword Dao, Karate, and Taekwondo, among others.
The position Fang Cheng held was in the logistical department.
An upscale description of his job would be that he was responsible for the club's daily operations and maintenance, as well as assisting the coaching staff in their classes.
But in reality, he did chores such as setting up the venue, serving students, and cleaning tasks.
Normal working hours were from 9:30 am to 6:30 pm, with an hour break at noon.
Saturdays and Sundays were the busiest times.
Many students who had to work from Monday to Friday chose to come during these days.
The club scheduled courses from morning to evening, with virtually no breaks.
However, there was a bright side.
As there was no need to cater for students by offering night classes, the staff could clock out on time and go home.
Fang Cheng was mainly responsible for the maintenance of the Boxing Department's area.
He first moved mats and dumbbells from the equipment room according to the coach's lesson plan.
Then he would stand by, quietly observing the students in class to be ready to provide them with services at any time.
For example, bringing drinks, towels, medical ointments, and such to the students, or running errands for the coach.
Today marks the first boxing class, a basic training session for new students.
"In your minds, boxing is probably just two brawny men standing on the stage, trading blows with fists as big as sandbags, blood gushing from noses, wildly swinging at each other..."
The coach's words, tinged with his regional accent, prompt laughter from the group of students.
"Boxing can be said to be a fighting skill that places the utmost emphasis on defensive strategies. In regular training, there is a very high demand for agility in movement."
"As the saying goes, teach the punches and not the steps, but teach the steps and you'll outfight the master."
"In the first two lessons, I taught you the stance and basic boxing techniques. Now, let's build on these foundations and practice footwork coordination..."
Coach Hu, whose appearance is rough-hewn, teaches with surprising delicacy.
His demonstrations progress from the simple to the complex, explaining various basic footwork and the techniques of shifting weight during rapid movements in great detail.
This resonates well with the learning needs of beginners.
Fang Cheng is already all too familiar with these concepts.
Through repeated practice on his own, he has firmly embedded them in his muscle memory.
Just like mastering the technique of weight shifting.
Not only does it enable him to punch with fuller power, but it also allows his body to maintain balance while dodging, poised to counterattack effectively.
But a technique is just that, a technique.
In actual combat, perfect execution largely relies on one's own powerful core strength.
Coach Hu leads a dozen students in practicing stepping and punching back and forth.
Chants rise rhythmically, and the atmosphere on the floor is particularly lively.
"Make sure to keep your toes clenched, relax your body, be smooth, feel like a spring..."
"Hey, you, yes you, don't look around at others, why are you wiggling your butt so exaggeratedly? You're not street dancing..."
Just after a few sets of basic warm-up exercises, the varied physical fitness of the students becomes evident.
Some still laugh and jest, while others start to breathe heavily.
Among them, a few heavier female students move conspicuously slower than the rest.
Paying over 2000 yuan monthly to learn boxing may also provide a way for these white-collar elites to reduce their weight, burn fat, and relieve stress.
Fang Cheng, wearing a vest and with his hands behind his back, stands on the sideline in the posture of a staff member.
Yet his gaze occasionally drifts to other areas where fighting skills classes are happening.
Having been employed for nearly a month.
Fang Cheng self-assesses that he has mastered most of the basic boxing skills.
What's left is to keep practicing, to gain experience and level up.
Staying in the Boxing Department might not yield much more learning.
With this thought, an idea begins to sprout in Fang Cheng's mind.
"Perhaps, I should apply for a transfer to an operational position..."
Time flies quickly, and in the blink of an eye, the first morning class at 12 o'clock comes to an end.
Fang Cheng picks up a broom and mop, swiftly cleaning the area.
After tidying up, he heads to the front desk to pick up a takeaway lunch ordered by the club for the staff.
During the short midday break.
Having finished his meal and sitting briefly, he begins doing push-ups amidst the noisy chatter of the changing room.
This peculiar behavior, unsurprisingly, draws teasing and jests from his colleagues.
Fang Cheng pays them no mind, intently feeling the soreness in his arms.
He has his own plans, his own targets to pursue.
The comments and evaluations of others are like a breeze on his face, utterly unable to sway a heart set on becoming stronger.
Suddenly, a flash of light appears before his eyes.
Fang Cheng pauses, his hands still Read the latest chapters on NovelHub - completely free!
The corners of his mouth reveal a smile others cannot fathom.
On the pale blue panel, a prompt message clearly emerges.
[Congratulations, after relentless effort, your physical constitution has improved]