Brain Metabolism

Dragging his weary body, Chen Jue climbed into Jiang Zhe’s “thief’s car.” In his hand, he tightly grasped two cash vouchers for Jingtang Club. Each was worth a thousand, anonymous and ready to be spent by anyone. Jingtang Club was a rather famous bathhouse in Hangzhou—elegantly decorated, with excellent service and top-notch privacy, even featuring a buffet restaurant so you could replenish your strength with a grand meal after your massage. Apart from the price, there really wasn’t much to complain about.

“Damn!”

“Two thousand in vouchers?”

“Jiang, have you struck it rich recently? Started hiding away some secret savings?” Chen Jue had been to Jingtang Club a few times and knew how outrageous the prices were. A regular foot massage or a rubdown on the street cost barely a hundred or so, but at Jingtang, a single session was 688, and even the group discount only shaved off ten percent. Yet, it was a legit bathhouse. Anyone who could frequent a place like this was definitely loaded.

Chen Jue had a rough idea of Jiang Zhe’s financial situation. Jiang had studied interior design; of the six in their dorm, Chen Jue was the only one who switched majors after the first semester, moving to finance. After graduation, the two of them came to Hangzhou together. Jiang Zhe worked for two years before opening his own small design company. Business was good at first, especially in Hangzhou’s Century City, which was buzzing with new developments. With so many people buying apartments, interior design was naturally in demand. Riding that wave, Jiang bought a house, a car, and eventually married a local woman, becoming something of a half-winner in life.

Unfortunately, the pandemic hit, and his little company was wiped out in a single blow. Now Jiang Zhe was an independent designer, working at a big firm—no longer a boss, just another worker. Fate had dealt him a rough hand. Worst of all, Jiang had become completely henpecked. Ever since the company folded, his paycheck went straight to his wife. When he went out to eat or play games, he was always pinching pennies. After all, he had a mortgage, two kids, and two cars—serious pressure. Unlike today, when he’d suddenly splurged with two thousand in Jingtang vouchers.

“Me, secret savings? These were a client’s gift!” Jiang explained. “Our company just landed a massive contract with a real big shot. The guy bought over two hundred acres out in Lin’an just to raise horses—says he’s starting a major equestrian club. As soon as the deal was signed, he gave everyone in the company two of these vouchers as a thank-you.” Jiang described all this, animatedly, as he drove.

“Damn! Everyone got them?”

“That must be over two hundred grand handed out! What kind of tycoon is this?” Chen Jue was stunned. He knew Jiang Zhe’s company ranked among the top three design firms in Hangzhou, with over a hundred employees. That kind of generosity was incredible.

As for Chen Jue, he had only 230,000 yuan in his bank account—the result of three years of frugal living and hard work. Yet, to the truly wealthy in Hangzhou, it was nothing. They could casually give away more than that on a whim.

Witnessing the extravagance of the rich, and thinking of his own looming unemployment, Chen Jue suddenly found the vouchers in his hand far less appealing. Still, with a like-minded buddy for company, they chatted and smoked along the way, and soon arrived at Jingtang Club.

Inside, they were greeted by elegant, traditional Chinese decor. The attendants and receptionists were all strikingly attractive. They booked a private room, changed into bathhouse attire, and settled comfortably into their chairs. With iPads in hand, they browsed the available technicians as though they were ancient emperors choosing consorts. For a 29-year-old single guy like Chen Jue, this was truly heaven.

Of course, it was all aboveboard; nothing shady here. Chen Jue and Jiang Zhe, both incorrigible, critiqued the technicians as they browsed, then made their choices and lay back to relax.

A few minutes later, the technician arrived—a young woman dressed in a classic Tang-style dress. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Technician Number 18, Nana. It’s a pleasure to serve you.” Her voice was sweet and she was strikingly pretty, a sheer veil over her nose lending an air of mysterious allure.

Chen Jue said nothing. Having hit the gym for the first time that morning, he was too tired to talk. He simply let her guide him, lying flat as she gently removed his pain relief patches. As she massaged him, she asked if he felt any discomfort, her hands skilled and caring. For service like this, Chen Jue thought, 688 an hour was well justified.

The full-body massage took nearly an hour. Chen Jue felt as if he were floating—everywhere hurt except his left hand, but Nana’s skillful touch gradually soothed the aches of exercise. The most surprising thing was that, as he listened to the soft, ancient melodies and inhaled the calming aroma of incense, a notification popped up on the data panel in his vision.

———
[Ding~]
[Completed a qualifying brain metabolic activity]
[Mental attribute +0.01]
———

Chen Jue, half-dazed, perked up immediately at the notification. “Why would a massage boost my mental attribute?” he wondered. “Shouldn’t it be physical constitution?”

Reflecting on his day, Chen Jue began to see a pattern. That morning, working out and throwing darts, he’d been tense and anxious, compounded by the stress of impending unemployment. Now, after this massage, he felt entirely relaxed, as if he’d shed all his defenses. The contrast had granted both his body and mind immense relief, which must have triggered the growth in his mental attribute.

“Who would’ve thought a massage could bring such an unexpected gain! If only it wasn’t so expensive, I’d come every day.”

Having figured it out, Chen Jue felt at peace. After the massage, Nana took her leave. Chen Jue and Jiang Zhe went to the hot pool for hydrotherapy—the water was said to be infused with Chinese herbs, invigorating the blood, dispelling bruises and fatigue, and even improving constitution. Afterwards, they tried the steam room. By the end of the full treatment, Chen Jue felt light and refreshed, his muscle soreness greatly diminished. The anticipated increase in physical attributes, however, didn’t materialize, which left him a bit disappointed.

“So much for wishful thinking,” he mused. “If hydrotherapy could boost your constitution, the rich would have drunk the herbal water dry.”

By now it was 4 p.m., and the buffet hadn’t started. Chen Jue and Jiang Zhe wandered into the entertainment room—poker, mahjong, billiards, retro arcade games, even a private movie theater. There were plenty of options, and most of the patrons were adults and children fresh from the hydrotherapy.

Chen Jue considered playing arcade games with Jiang Zhe to kill time, but when he spotted a row of dartboards in the corner, he lost all interest in video games. After all, he’d played them since childhood—they’d grown stale. Throwing darts and honing his skill was far more appealing.

He grabbed a box of needle-tip darts, stood behind the line, and started throwing with his left hand. The massage had restored some of his stamina, and his left arm no longer ached, making the throws surprisingly smooth. Clearly, his Level 1 [Darts] skill was helping.

He’d barely tossed a couple when a middle-aged man throwing darts nearby approached him. “Young man, you’re doing it all wrong! You need to use your wrist for power. I see you’re just flinging and lobbing with your hand—that’s how you end up off-target, and a rebound could hurt somebody!”