The new colleague seems a bit unusual.

Right hand clicking the mouse, pretending to familiarize himself with the risk control system, left hand endlessly squeezing the grip trainer.
The counter on the grip trainer constantly reset and jumped, +1, +1.
Having overdone it last time, squeezing too hard and causing lactic acid buildup in both hands, Chen Jue deliberately slowed his pace this time.
Not only did he lower the grip trainer’s resistance from 60KG to 30KG, but he also took his time with each squeeze.
With eight hours of work every day, as long as he didn’t injure his hands, Chen Jue could keep squeezing until the company shut down.
As for the job itself, it was child’s play to Chen Jue.
A master-level risk control data analyst with over ten thousand hours in the field, he needed only a fleeting glance at the system to know how to judge whether a client would be approved or rejected.
Experience is everything; he could jump into any company and hit the ground running.
Most businesses love hiring experts like Chen Jue, even at higher salaries, so long as the work is done well. Far preferable to a gaggle of mistake-prone fresh grads and interns.
That’s why so many university graduates, upon sending out resumes, first encounter the cold slap: “Sorry, you don’t have work experience, you don’t meet our requirements.”
No experience, no job.
No job, no experience.
A closed logical loop: graduation equals unemployment.
...
After squeezing for over an hour, the attribute panel showed no movement.
Chen Jue guessed it was because he’d lowered the resistance; the exercise hadn’t reached the system’s threshold.
Previously, at 60KG, he’d get prompts after about half an hour.
But Chen Jue wasn’t impatient—he had plenty of patience!
While switching hands for a break, he glanced around the office, not only reacquainting himself with the workspace but observing his new colleagues.
All risk control staff, sitting long hours at computers, their postures crooked and slouched, heavy glasses perched on their faces, all with at least 500-degree lenses.
Yet these colleagues were considered high earners among ordinary folk, with monthly salaries starting at 20K. Their spending mirrored his own—willing to splurge.
None looked wan or sickly; they were either plump and round or possessed prosperous, fleshy faces.
Only team leader Li Mo showed any hints of exercise, his build lean and trim; the rest, five or six out of ten, carried excess weight.
Looking at them, Chen Jue saw a reflection of his former self, before he had the attribute panel.
“I’ve been training so diligently lately; surely I’ve lost a few pounds?”
“If I get the chance, I should go for a physical assessment.”
He missed the five-hundred-thousand fitness assessment machine at EasyFit Gym.
But since relocating to the CBD, he wouldn’t be visiting the Binjiang Industrial Park anymore.
He browsed Taobao, settling for a body fat scale for less than thirty yuan—cheaper than breakfast in Hangzhou.
At that moment, Shen Shikun, returning from the restroom, paused by Chen Jue’s desk and eyed the grip trainer curiously.
“Hey man, what’s that? For exercise?”
Chen Jue glanced at him; during the past hour, he’d noticed this chubby colleague had already visited the restroom twice, and for quite some time.
First a quick break, then a longer one—half an hour easily gone. A veteran at slacking off during work hours.
“Just a grip trainer, for finger strength.”
“Want to try?”
Seeing Shen Shikun’s hefty build, Chen Jue kindly handed over the grip trainer.
Shen Shikun fiddled with it, tried increasing the resistance, and could barely squeeze it at 50KG.
“Whew!”
“Just a few squeezes and it’s this tough?”
“Not for me!”
He exhaled, suspiciously returning the grip trainer.
He’d noticed Chen Jue had been squeezing the thing non-stop since arriving, from nine until ten thirty—over an hour.
(Page 1/3)

How much endurance must his hands have?
Though Chen Jue switched hands, for a two-hundred-pound homebody like Shen Shikun, it was unfathomable how someone could have such patience in their hands.
Wouldn’t his hands get sore?
“This guy must have some odd hobby,” Shen Shikun muttered to himself.
Seeing that his colleague wasn’t interested in exercise, Chen Jue smiled, took back the grip trainer, and continued switching hands for practice.
Around eleven o’clock, the panel finally gave a new prompt:
——————
【Ding~】
【You’ve completed an excessive anaerobic endurance workout. Your fingers, wrists, and arm muscle groups have been effectively trained; muscle endurance and grip strength have improved.】
【Strength attribute +0.01】
【Free attribute +0.01】
【Friendly reminder: muscles, fascia, bones, and joints aren’t machine parts. Excessive endurance training may cause tenosynovitis. Please manage your training time to avoid unnecessary injuries.】
【Recommended training duration: 30 minutes per 12 hours】
——————
“Exceeded again?”
Chen Jue stopped squeezing the grip trainer at once.
Just like with the eye exercises, he couldn’t overdo it.
As the panel said, the human body isn’t a fatigue-free metal machine.
Hands, so sensitive, have their own limits.
“Only thirty minutes every half day—an hour per day total.”
“Looks like I need to learn how to rest, too,” Chen Jue thought.
With his hands aching, he used the two points of free attributes gained that morning to boost his constitution.
A wave of warmth spread through his body, easing most of the lactic acid buildup in his hands.
He glanced at the unfamiliar term "tenosynovitis" and searched it online.
It’s a disease common in hands and wrists, caused by prolonged overuse.
The synovial sheath is a tubular membrane covering the long tendons, reducing friction during movement.
To put it simply, it’s like a ring of bearings around hand muscles and joints, secreting lubricating fluid automatically; with little activity, it’s fine, but with overuse and poor lubrication, inflammation can occur.
Just the discomfort from lactic acid was enough for Chen Jue to dislike it, let alone risking inflammation.
Attributes could be grinded any time, but not at the cost of bodily harm.
...
He set the grip trainer aside, checked the clock—it wasn’t lunchtime yet.
Chen Jue sat at his workstation, researching human exercise physiology. The office computers were high-end, with stable internet; even switching screens to play games posed no issue.
But gaming during work hours would be crossing the line from slacking to outright insubordination.
Recently, having cut back on phone and computer use, Chen Jue found his eyes dry after staring at the monitor for so long.
He took off his glasses and, ignoring those around him, began performing eye exercises.
Intending to massage the acupoints around his eye sockets, to relieve fatigue.
This scene left Shen Shikun dumbfounded.
“Damn!”
“What’s he doing?”
“Eye exercises for kids?”
“If these were effective, I wouldn’t have gotten nearsighted so early!” Shen Shikun internally complained, finding his new colleague rather eccentric.
Playing with a grip trainer openly was odd enough, but now he was doing eye exercises usually reserved for schoolchildren.
Still, seeing Chen Jue’s skilled technique—different from the familiar “rubbing Tianying acupoint”—Shen Shikun couldn’t help but watch a little closer.
(Page 2/3)

“Which version of eye exercises is this?”
“I’ve never seen it before,” Shen Shikun wondered.
He stole a glance at team leader Li Mo’s desk across the room, debating whether to learn from Chen Jue.
After all, it might be another new trick to kill time at work.
...
Before long, it was eleven thirty, and nearby desks saw people stretching, moving their hands and feet.
Chen Jue noticed the newly added work group discussing lunch options and takeout.
For an office worker, only lunch and noon break truly belonged to oneself.
If you didn’t treat yourself at lunch, you were just making life harder.
“Chen Jue, want to head to the cafeteria on the first floor and eat together?”
“The food’s pretty good—I usually eat there,” Shen Shikun warmly suggested.
“Sure!”
“Let’s go!”
Chen Jue nodded, grabbed his badge, and followed downstairs.
They took the elevator this time, since Chen Jue had already climbed once in the morning and worried about injuring his knees with repeated climbs.
His morning research had revealed that besides tenosynovitis, the knees were prone to a complex condition called knee joint injury.
And with the chubby colleague beside him, dragging a two-hundred-pound coworker up the stairs would look foolish.
The cafeteria was spacious, with a two-story open layout.
The menu was varied: Chinese food, Western dishes, even KFC and McDonald’s, rivaling the contracted cafeteria at Huaye Tower.
Only internal staff of Hengtong Group ate here, all clad in suits and ties, unlike Huaye’s mixed crowds. Chen Jue’s first impression was favorable—much less noisy.
He loaded 500 yuan of meal credit onto his badge, selected his favorite dishes, and found a seat by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Shen Shikun came over with a whole fried chicken, two cups of cola, and fries with a burger.
“Isn’t all that greasy for lunch?”
Chen Jue asked, realizing why his colleague was so overweight.
“Not really! I grew up abroad, always loved fried chicken and burgers. I’m used to it, though I switch it up sometimes,” Shen Shikun chuckled, then joined Chen Jue in griping about the building’s maintenance.
“See that fly over there?”
“Even with autumn here, there’s still big green-headed flies! The property management is stingy, never sprays insecticide. Seeing that thing while eating is disgusting!” Shen Shikun complained.
“Definitely stingy!”
“The stairwell ventilation wasn’t on this morning—it stank.” Chen Jue agreed.
Most likely the fly had wandered in from the stairwell.
When climbing earlier, Chen Jue noticed the trash bins for each floor were placed at the fire exit.
Without ventilation, the smell would surely attract flies.
As they ate, the fly circled their table, buzzing annoyingly.
Shen Shikun, for all his bulk, lacked agility; a couple of swats failed to chase it away.
Chen Jue stopped his futile efforts, saying, “Let me do it,” and picked up a toothpick from his tray.
“You?”
Shen Shikun, mid-bite, looked puzzled, not knowing what to expect.
Chen Jue flexed his fingers, waited for the green-headed fly to settle at the corner of the table, its legs rubbing together, and flicked the toothpick across half the table, pinning the fly beneath it as it sat.
Shen Shikun’s hand jerked, dropping his half-eaten burger onto the tray with a thud.
He was dumbfounded.
He thought his new seatmate was, frankly, not quite normal!
(Page 3/3)