Successfully skipped stones—perfect!

Ever since Chen Jue had awakened this mysterious panel, his ambition at work had all but vanished. When he thought about clocking in at the company again on Tuesday, his first thought wasn’t about how to approach his tasks, but rather how to slack off or skip work entirely.

After all, the company was on the verge of collapse—what good would it do to put on a show of diligence now?

Especially since he’d recently taken a liking to exercise, and his health had begun to improve, he felt more and more that the past few years had been wasted. The nine-to-six routine hadn’t brought him much in the way of blessings. He hadn’t earned much money, still couldn’t afford a house, and hadn’t managed to win over any beautiful women.

Not only had his body suffered, but his enthusiasm for life had been nearly ground down to nothing.

“I really have to thank this attribute panel,” he mused. “If not for it, my life, nearly thirty years in, would truly have amounted to nothing.”

After looking up some information and bookmarking a few websites related to human physiology for later study, Chen Jue went to shower, changed into clean clothes, and headed out to find something to eat.

The afternoon dart session had left him drained; if he didn’t get some late-night food, he’d struggle to sleep through the night. He went to a familiar northeastern dumpling shop and ordered beef dumplings along with two stir-fried dishes.

Chen Jue never scrimped on food; this meal alone cost him over eighty yuan. Once the dishes arrived, he was tempted to have a cold beer alongside.

It was prime time for late-night eats; the local barbecue shops filled the air with smoke and savory aromas, and many nearby office workers gathered around outdoor tables with several bottles between them.

But remembering he had a hospital checkup the next day, Chen Jue gave up on the beer.

“Screw it,” he thought. “I’m quitting smoking anyway—what’s one less drink?” He consoled himself, glancing at his constitution attribute, now at 0.99.

He noticed his self-discipline had improved dramatically in just these few days. Not only did he stick to his exercise routine come rain or shine, but he’d also managed to quit both smoking and drinking.

If he added being family-oriented and doting on his future wife to the mix, he’d be a model husband by anyone’s standards.

“Too bad I’m just average-looking,” he sighed. “And my bank balance is a little low. Otherwise, I’d probably be settled down by now.”

He thought of his past relationships, all of which had fizzled out, and scrolled through his social media feed. Most of his classmates, childhood friends, and colleagues his age were already married with families—posting pictures of family dinners or outings with their children.

Meanwhile, he drifted alone in a distant city, sitting forlornly at a small table in a street-side eatery, eating food of questionable content, with not a trace of home’s warmth.

That night, Chen Jue lay awake in his rented room, thinking about many things—from his future job prospects and career development to the family life he ought to have, trying to make some plans ahead of time.

He longed for the kind of happy family life enjoyed by his peers, but looking around, it seemed he had missed his chance.

The first hurdle was housing. With his current salary, he could only afford a mortgage in a small fourth- or fifth-tier county. In Hangzhou, even ten more years of work wouldn’t allow him to keep up with the rising prices and inflation.

The second problem was that there were no suitable women his age left to date. By thirty, any woman he knew—classmate or colleague—was likely already married. Those who weren’t were extremely selective and unlikely to consider someone with his circumstances.

It was an impossible deadlock, one that no amount of effort on his part could break.

And even if he managed to start a family, he’d face a mountain of expenses: mortgage, car payments, children. The economic pressure would be immense.

Chen Jue asked himself: was that really the life he wanted?

The answer, clearly, was no.

...

Lost in his thoughts, Chen Jue eventually fell asleep.

He slept deeply through the night.

When he woke the next day, he felt refreshed and full of energy, deciding not to dwell on his life planning for the time being.

He went to the company to retrieve his old phone from his junior colleague, requested a sick leave on DingTalk, and took a taxi to the nearby Second Affiliated Hospital.

This was one of Hangzhou’s top hospitals, and even early in the morning, there was a crowd for registration.

He asked at the counter about a comprehensive health check and was shocked to learn it would cost over four thousand yuan! Worse still, the checkup wasn’t covered by insurance. Even as a mid-level manager at a decent company, the expense made him wince.

No wonder people online say the poor can’t afford to get sick—Chen Jue was experiencing it first-hand.

Clenching his teeth, he registered for the health check.

From general exams to internal and external medicine, blood, urine and stool tests, ultrasounds, liver and kidney functions, chest X-rays, ECGs—the list seemed endless. He spent nearly the whole morning running from one department to another.

When he got the report in the afternoon, his mind was a blur.

Most of his indicators were good—after all, his constitution was nearly at a whole number. But in addition to the common occupational diseases like frozen shoulder and slipped discs that Li Chaoqun had mentioned, Chen Jue turned out to have hemorrhoids, seborrheic alopecia, appendicitis, and even a gallstone!

Most of these were minor chronic ailments—treatable with medication, good habits, and exercise.

But appendicitis and the gallstone were different. If they acted up, the pain would be excruciating, potentially leading to other complications. The doctor recommended immediate surgery to remove them.

For these two digestive issues, modern medicine offered no better solution than the knife.

The moment the doctor advised surgery, Chen Jue refused.

He wasn’t even thirty—cutting out two organs at such a young age? Who knew what effect that might have on his future? If he suffered side effects, the hospital wouldn’t be able to help.

Organs aren’t like leeks in a field—you can’t just grow them back after cutting them off.

“Damn it!” he groaned. “You’d never know what’s wrong with you until you check, and then it’s a whole heap of problems.”

“No wonder ordinary people avoid checkups—it’s just asking for trouble.”

...

With the health report in hand, Chen Jue left the hospital feeling numb.

Working in Hangzhou was no easy feat—he’d nearly lost his life to it.

Both issues stemmed from his irregular diet and lifestyle. Thankfully, neither the gallstone nor the appendicitis had acted up recently. Thinking back, he hadn’t had any flare-ups in the past year.

With his body improving thanks to the attribute panel, he decided to live in denial for now and ignore these ailments.

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll grind my constitution up to 999. Not even cancer cells would stand a chance then. What’s a little appendicitis or a tiny stone? They’ll heal themselves in no time,” he fantasized, trying to pump himself up.

He didn’t return to the office.

Since he’d already taken sick leave, he might as well enjoy a day off. With an official doctor’s note, even HR couldn’t fault him.

He took a cab back to the Changhe neighborhood and, seeing it was still early, grabbed the remaining skipping stones and headed to Baima Lake Park.

The checkup had left him in a foul mood, and he hoped skipping stones would help him unwind—and maybe earn a few more proficiency points.

...

On a Tuesday evening, the park was nearly deserted.

The usual crowd of campers and day-trippers were all working; few would skip out like Chen Jue.

In a fast-paced city like Hangzhou, time is money. Anyone with the leisure to visit a park on a weekday—besides retirees—was likely a landlord or someone well-off.

...

Finding a secluded spot, Chen Jue steadied his mood and put the checkup out of his mind for the moment.

He gripped a skipping stone, wound up as usual, and flung it with all his strength.

With a crisp smack, the stone bounced rapidly across the river’s surface, leaping far into the distance.

Watching the dense line of splashes, Chen Jue felt his spirits settle.

“This is really soothing to watch,” he thought. “And my stone-skipping is starting to look like those professionals online.”

He tried a few more throws with his right hand, each time receiving a [Perfect] +5 prompt.

Compared to darts, he found that stone-skipping had a lower technical threshold and improved much faster.

Even the world record holder’s technique, as seen online, was only slightly better than his own. The difference was mostly that the other man’s body had been professionally trained, so his arm, wrist, and fingers were stronger—giving the stone higher initial velocity for more skips and greater distance.

“Is my strength not enough?” Chen Jue wondered.

To test his theory, he used up the rest of his box—over 260 stones—saving just one in his pocket. He gathered more stones from the park, playing until dusk, until his right hand was numb and his strength attribute had increased by 0.01. Finally, the proficiency bar for [Stone Skipping] maxed out.

Then, a new notification popped up on his panel:

———
[Ding~]
[Proficiency reached 100%. Skill level up.]
[Stone Skipping Lv3 (2000/2000) → Stone Skipping (Mastery)]
[Through your relentless effort, there are no technical blind spots left for you in this low-level sport.]
[Skill evaluation: Any suitable stone in your hand can be turned into a work of art!]
———

“Straight to the top?” Chen Jue muttered. “No Lv4?”

Looking at the notification, he felt as if a strange muscle memory had formed in his right hand.

With only a hint of hesitation, he picked up the last stone he’d set aside from his online order.

In one fluid motion—a textbook half-turn—his arm, wrist, and fingers powered through in perfect harmony. His arm cracked like a whip, sending the stone at a twenty-degree angle toward the water’s surface.

With a sharp hiss, the stone cut through the air, smacked the water, and began to skip rapidly across the river.

Under the glow of the park’s lamps, Chen Jue tracked its trajectory.

The arc was so long that the stone shot all the way to the middle of the river—nearly eighty meters!

And the string of splashes was so dense and numerous that, by a rough count, it skipped over eighty times—matching the world record set abroad.

Staring at the result, Chen Jue couldn’t help but let out a curse: “This is unreal!”