[Ding! Yesterday's task settlement:] [Task "An Incubus's Beauty Sleep" completed. Charm +0.5.] [Task "Incubus's Face Project" completed. Charm +0.5.]
Cheng Che woke from his sleep, heard the system's voice, and opened the system panel.
[Stamina: 60 (You're already a workhorse who makes the grade.)] [Endurance: 56 (Very good. One step closer to the sacred gigolo physique.)] [Charm: 59 (Your face finally doesn't look like it's been smacked with a frying pan.)] [Intelligence: 60 (With your current IQ, you should be able to tell a mushroom from... never mind. Keep working at it.)]
He looked at that "59" in charm and broke into a happy smile.
One more day, and he would be able to unlock another new talent.
These wonderful days of "planting one seed and reaping harvest after harvest" really left him feeling refreshed.
"Great. Get up, exercise, shower, eat breakfast, then head to the tennis courts."
After setting his schedule for the day, Cheng Che got up to wash.
Once he had washed up, Cheng Che went out for a run. After his endurance increased by another point, he returned from the park and took a shower first.
He dried his hair and left the bathroom.
A bowl of congee and two steamed buns sat on the table, with a twenty-yuan note weighed down beside them.
Jiang Xue had already gone to the shop. As usual, she had left a note on the table, its handwriting even messier than yesterday's:
"Cheche, help yourself to the congee in the pot, and eat the buns while they're hot. Take this twenty yuan and buy yourself some water when you're out having fun. Don't get heatstroke."
Cheng Che stared at the note with a happy smile, folded the twenty-yuan note, and tucked it into his pocket.
He gulped down the congee in a few mouthfuls and headed out with a bun between his teeth.
The morning subway rush in Spring City had already passed, and there weren't many people in the carriage.
Cheng Che found a seat off to the side, opened the navigation app on his phone, and checked the tennis courts' location.
Spring City Sports Center. Take Metro Line 3 to the last stop, then walk another eight hundred meters from the station.
He really had never been there before. In the past, he had only ever passed by, never gone inside to look around.
After leaving the subway station, he sent Old Chen a message. The reply came instantly:
[Turn right after you come through the main gate. The tennis hall is behind the basketball hall. I'll wait for you at the front desk.]
Cheng Che followed the signs for a few minutes and spotted a middle-aged man in a black sports jacket standing at the entrance in the distance, with two other people beside him.
They seemed to be there for part-time work too.
He was in his early forties, with very short hair and skin tanned dark and glossy. His eyes narrowed to slits when he smiled.
"Cheng Che?"
"Hello, Uncle Chen."
"Just call me Old Chen. Everyone at the shop does." Old Chen patted his shoulder, neither too hard nor too lightly. "Come with me. These other two are new today too. Let's look around the facilities together."
He pushed open the glass door, and the distinctive smell of synthetic courts washed over them.
The hall wasn't particularly large, with four standard tennis courts laid out inside. The lights were bright, and the courts were such a fresh blue that they had clearly been renovated recently.
Several baskets of yellow-green tennis balls were stacked beside the courts, and a row of seats stood against the far wall.
Old Chen led the three of them around the whole place-the courts, equipment room, front desk, and changing rooms-introducing each area while explaining their duties.
"We don't get many people here Monday through Friday. Mostly a few longtime members booking courts. Weekends get pretty busy, though. We're basically booked solid from morning to night. We don't have many full-time staff, so we need part-timers on weekends to lend a hand: picking up balls, tidying the courts, helping at the front desk, and sometimes bringing customers water and things like that."
As Old Chen spoke, his serious gaze swept over the three part-timers:
"You're all young, so I'll be straight with you. A hundred a day, lunch included, paid daily. The work isn't tiring, but you have to be diligent."
Cheng Che quickly did the math in his head:
Four weekends a month meant eight days, but since they were in their final year of high school, they actually only had four days because they had classes on weekend afternoons. That meant four hundred yuan.
Facial cleanser and toner would cost a little over a hundred, and he could save the rest.
For him right now, that was a decent amount.
Of the other two, one was tall and thin, while the other was slightly chubby. Both looked a few years older than Cheng Che, like students from a nearby university.
The two exchanged a glance and nodded their agreement.
Seeing that none of the three objected, Old Chen's lips curved upward, and his tone suddenly grew a little excited. "All right. Next, I'll teach you to play some tennis."
The tall, thin young man looked troubled. "Brother Chen, isn't... picking up balls enough? We have to know how to play too?"
"Of course you need to hit a few balls." Old Chen looked perfectly serious. "If you're going to be ball boys, you need to understand how hard the ball hits and where it travels. If a ball comes flying at your face and you can't even dodge it, how are you supposed to work? So you need to get a feel for what tennis is first."
As he spoke, he had already pulled a racket from a basket and tapped it against his palm. "Come on. Who's first?"
The two university students both took a step back and looked at Cheng Che.
Cheng Che: "..."
Old Chen's gaze settled on him too, his eyes crinkling with his smile:
"Let's go with you. You look lively, young man. Here, take a racket. We'll hit a few shots so you can get a feel for it."
Cheng Che took the racket and tested his grip.
It was light and felt good in his hand.
"Ever played before?" Old Chen asked.
"No," Cheng Che answered honestly.
"That's fine. I'll teach you the forehand grip first." Old Chen came over as he spoke, adjusted his fingers, and corrected his grip. "Like this. Don't rush to put power into it. Just get the ball across first."
The two took their places on the court.
Old Chen stood at the opposite baseline and swung gently, sending a ball floating slowly toward him. Cheng Che swung.
Smack!
The ball struck the racket face, bounced off to the left, and went straight out of bounds.
"No problem. Again." Old Chen fed him another ball.
Cheng Che swung again.
This time, the racket's sweet spot connected with the ball. The tennis ball traced a low arc and landed in bounds.
Old Chen nodded. "Not bad. You've got good coordination."
Cheng Che said nothing.
He was watching the incoming ball, feeling that instant when the ball met the racket face.
It was a peculiar sensation, as if something in his brain were automatically calculating the ball's trajectory, speed, and landing point.
Was this an effect of his increased intelligence?
Over the next few rallies, Cheng Che kept losing.
His shots either went out or hit the net. Occasionally, he managed to send one across, only for Old Chen to return it easily.
But his losses weren't embarrassing. At least his shots were growing steadier.
Five minutes later, he began to sustain rallies with Old Chen.
Ten minutes later, he hit a sharply angled crosscourt forehand that Old Chen couldn't return.
"Great shot!" Old Chen called, a little excited.
Twenty minutes later, the rhythm on the court had clearly changed.
Cheng Che ran all over the court, from the baseline to the net, from left to right, his racket swinging more and more smoothly.
His stamina was being depleted, but with [Ever-Full Power Reserves] supporting him, the power of each swing never diminished.
Old Chen's shots were fast and heavy with spin. Cheng Che would send the first one flying, but by the second, he could adjust.
Old Chen hit a deep ball. Cheng Che retreated quickly, waited for the instant the ball bounced off the ground, then whipped his arm through a swing, blasting the ball back toward the opposite baseline like a cannonball.
Old Chen did return it, but his racket face wobbled, and the ball flew out of bounds.
He froze for a moment, straightened, and looked Cheng Che up and down. "Kid, have you really never played tennis before?"
"Really, never," Cheng Che said, panting.
"Then this is talent." Old Chen tucked his racket under his arm and walked up to the net. "That dynamic vision and reaction speed you just showed-an ordinary person might not develop those even after six months of practice. And your stamina's pretty good too."
Cheng Che's eyes lit up at that, because this dynamic vision and reaction speed seemed to be talents he had been born with.
They weren't the system-granted [Ever-Full Power Reserves], nor were they [Total Concentration], which he hadn't unlocked.
For Cheng Che, who had been ordinary for eighteen years, that assessment made flowers bloom in his heart.
Old Chen paused, then suddenly shifted his gaze as though something had occurred to him. "You seem pretty talented. If you trained here with me for six months, you might be able to enter tournaments."
Cheng Che wiped away some sweat and couldn't help laughing. "Brother Chen, already planning to earn your money back from me?"
Old Chen burst out laughing at that.
"I'll stop teasing you. One of the part-time duties is being a hitting partner. Two hundred an hour. Play well, and the customer will request you again next time."
Cheng Che's eyes immediately lit up. "There's a deal that good?"
"Of course." Old Chen grinned. "But it depends on whether the customers need one. If nobody requests you, you're still on a hundred a day."
Cheng Che smiled too. "All right, I'm in. But Brother Chen, I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Before I work as a hitting partner, could you give me a racket to practice with? I can hit against a wall."
Old Chen laughed heartily. "Easy! There are plenty of old rackets in the equipment room. Pick whichever one you like. Just don't take it out of the tennis hall."
Cheng Che nodded emphatically.
Today was his first time trying tennis, but it felt really good to him.
He was starting to like this sport.