Rong City.
Today was one of those rare days with beautiful weather. Morning sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, falling in dappled patches on the ground and by the window. A breeze swept through, making the shifting patterns of light and shade sway.
Through the crack in the studio door came a steady series of "Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!" The blows came fast, sounding fierce.
The Fatty was wearing an oversized white tank top, soaked through with sweat and clinging to him as if he'd just been fished out of the water. A sweatband was tied around his forehead. Focused intently, he unleashed a barrage of blows on the punching bag before him.
Two sticky notes were attached above the punching bag. One read "Old President," and the other "Night Watch."
"Thud!"
"Thud! Thud!"
"Die!"
The Fatty slammed a vicious hook into the punching bag, sending it swinging sharply to one side.
Unlike the disciplined Fatty, Jiang Cheng was sitting on the sofa, calmly enjoying his breakfast.
That's right, the breakfast had also been picked up by the Fatty when he went out for his morning run.
Jiang Cheng gently cracked open a boiled egg and deftly peeled off the shell. Then he dropped it into his bowl of plain congee, his gaze seemingly casual as it kept drifting toward the Fatty.
Holding the punching bag steady with one hand, the Fatty wiped away his sweat with a towel and turned to Jiang Cheng. "Doctor, I'm a beginner. Give me some pointers. What else do I need to improve, or... or should I train harder?" he asked, panting.
"Your speed and power are passable, but you need to understand that you're attacking a punching bag. It's dead. It doesn't move, and it certainly won't hit back, so you can attack