The Power of Dreams (Please Keep Reading)

"Creak." "Creak."

The streets on a winter night were sparsely lit.

A tricycle covered in the marks of age, its primer showing through, rolled slowly along.

The cargo bed swayed slightly, and the hubs turned stiffly.

The wind swept over with a biting chill, making the atmosphere feel even more deserted.

Fang Cheng held the handlebars and worked the pedals, trying to ride as steadily as possible.

That way, the overloaded secondhand tricycle could jolt less as it moved.

"Xiumei, how much did you make tonight?"

Seeing that the friend he had grown up with had barely spoken the whole way, Fang Cheng took on the role of livening up the mood.

"Not sure. I have to calculate it first."

At that question, a rustling sound immediately came from Zhou Xiumei behind him as she searched around.

Then came the soft swish of pages being turned.

As if her interest had been stirred, she took out a notebook and simply sat in the cargo bed to do the accounts.

"First sale, sold a teddy bear plushie, income thirty-five yuan."

"Second sale, sold an Everything Goes Well Ornament, income nineteen yuan. Added together, that's..."

She carefully recorded every bill in her notebook, using them to calculate costs and profit.

Suddenly, Zhou Xiumei said with a hint of surprise in her voice, "Brother Cheng, my total income tonight actually went over two hundred yuan for the first time!"

She could hardly wait to share her joy.

Yet she had not been happy for long before she let out a long sigh.

It was like a bleak gust of wind brushing softly past his ear.

Fang Cheng looked back and glanced at Zhou Xiumei, who was wrapped in a scarf, her delicate brows knitted tight.

"How about you put today's losses on my account? After all, those guys were all thrown away by me."

"How could I do that!"

Zhou Xiumei immediately grew a little anxious, her soft, weak voice rising a few notches.

"Don't overthink it. I was just sighing because I'm so unlucky. Ever since I was little, I've never done anything that went completely smoothly..."

Fang Cheng fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Xiumei, have you ever thought about what you want to do in the future, or whether you have any dreams?"

"Dreams?"

Hearing this, Zhou Xiumei froze, her eyes showing a trace of confusion.

"For example, opening a handicraft shop someday, doing business, becoming a boss."

Fang Cheng tried to guide her.

"No."

Zhou Xiumei immediately shook her head like a rattle-drum.

"Opening a shop is too risky. If I can earn a little over a hundred every day by running a stall, I'll be satisfied."

Fang Cheng continued in a serious tone, "Xiumei, the reason you always feel like nothing ever goes your way is only because you lack a dream."

"Once a person has a dream, they gain a kind of power called belief."

"This power can let you take temporary gains and losses lightly, give you the courage to challenge difficulties, and help you find the meaning of life again."

"So I think you can try to find your own dream."

Listening to Fang Cheng's words, which sounded as if they came from someone who had been through it all, Zhou Xiumei's gaze turned hazy, as if she understood something, yet was also a little puzzled.

After he had said so much, she gradually opened up as well, so she asked cautiously, "Brother Cheng, you've been practicing martial arts all this time. Is your dream to go fight in professional competitions?"

This time, it was Fang Cheng's turn to shake his head.

"There are some things it's still too early to say now."

"But there should be an answer soon. When the time comes, I'll secretly tell only you, just like when we were kids."

As he spoke, he smiled at her with deliberate mystery.

The corners of Zhou Xiumei's mouth lifted slightly, but then she pressed her lips together again, suppressing her smile.

She lifted her eyes and breathed out a small puff of warm air.

Looking at the back so close before her, her heart suddenly beat a few times faster.

As if it were like before, some secret quietly bloomed between the two of them.

The sound of their words drifted by like a light, brisk breeze.

Before they knew it, the Sleeve Building, its lights dim and scattered, had already emerged beneath the night sky.

No matter how dark and cold the night was.

A brand-new, bright day would always arrive...

December 3rd.

Thursday, 12:30 p.m.

Global Elite Fighting Club.

Coach Hu held his Thermos Cup and strolled unhurriedly into Training Hall No. 2.

In truth, he rarely came to this area.

Looking around, he saw students in white uniforms, preparing for class and practicing all kinds of flashy stuff.

Karate, Kendo, Taekwondo.

But these programs had strong commercial promotion and were the most popular among trend-chasing young people.

So the club's upper management valued them highly and had specially arranged them in Hall No. 2, which had brand-new renovations and better facilities.

Meanwhile, the more practical Boxing, Sanda, Muay Thai, and Jiu-Jitsu could only squeeze pitifully into Hall No. 1.

The Boxing Department Coach Hu was responsible for had outperformed the Karate Department in results some time ago, which had given him plenty to brag about.

But now, his confidence had suddenly vanished.

All the changes during this period were because of that young man's appearance and departure.

At that thought, Coach Hu cast his gaze forward.

He saw a crowd of people gathered together, making the place seem unusually lively.

Most were students in training clothes, and there were also several coaches and staff from other departments.

Standing in the middle of the crowd was a young man with clean, fair features and a refined bearing.

"Master Xu, you're here so early!"

Coach Hu stepped forward and called out loudly toward the crowd.

Xu Maocai glanced at him coldly, then immediately turned his head away, clearly not wanting to bother with him.

Coach Hu laughed to himself.

He had deliberately greeted someone who had suffered a similar experience, using it as revenge for having his talent poached.

"Everyone's here. Let's begin."

The head coach of the Karate Department suddenly stepped out and spoke.

Since the main purpose of this Sparring Partner recruitment was to make up for the department's shortage of manpower.

The on-site assessment should naturally be handled by him.

As long as he signed off on it, the new Sparring Partner would be considered to have passed the test, and could then go to the HR department to collect the employment contract.

As for the coaches from other departments gathering at the scene, at most, they served a supervisory role to prevent cheating.

Of course, this did not mean that once someone chose a certain department, they could only work as a Sparring Partner in that department.

In principle, Sparring Partners were a flexible, adjustable technical role.

If another coach took a liking to one, and that department happened to be short on manpower as well.

Then after the fact, they could go to the HR department and sign off on it, and would likewise have the right to employ that person.

Coach Hu and Xu Maocai had no interest whatsoever in the specific details of recruiting a Sparring Partner.

Their gazes remained fixed the entire time on the young figure at the center of the crowd, each harboring their own thoughts.

Fang Cheng, surrounded by onlookers, looked calm, his posture relaxed.

He first did a few Single-Leg Squats, then stretched his arms and cracked his joints with a series of pops.

Only then did he nod in response:

"I can begin."

The content of the first test was consecutive Push-Ups.

It mainly tested a person's physical endurance and cardiopulmonary function, as well as the upper-limb strength most important for a Sparring Partner.

At that moment, on the ground in front of Fang Cheng, there was a counter with a red button.

When his forehead bumped the button, the Electronic Display Screen would beep and count once.

This ensured standard posture while also preventing any missed or mistaken counts.

Fang Cheng let out a soft breath, then planted both hands on the ground, straightened his waist and back, and lowered himself down.

His first standard two-arm Push-Up was completed with extreme ease, steady and powerful.

If this had been scored in a competition, it would definitely have been a case of every judge holding up a perfect-ten card.

Coach Hu and the other coaches could not help nodding.

Fitness was just like martial arts: the moment someone made a move, you knew whether they had the goods.

Though this young man looked refined and gentle on the outside, his build somewhat frail.

Just from these two moves alone, they could tell he definitely had a habit of keeping up with training.

Fang Cheng continued performing the movements in succession, the tempo quite rhythmic—neither fast nor slow, crisp and clean.

His form was also flawless, clearly showing he had come prepared.

The corners of Coach Hu's mouth lifted slightly as he mused to himself:

Didn't expect this kid to have been keeping something up his sleeve. Interesting...

Xu Maocai, standing off to the side, had an even more complicated look in his eyes.