The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

Seeing that Chen Jue had made his decision, Xu Ping’an didn’t try to persuade him further. He was busy every day, barely touching the ground, with scores of surgeries scheduled from morning till night. Finding time for a consultation was already no small feat.

Yet, encountering such a rare and special case as Chen Jue’s, Xu Ping’an made a point of adding Chen Jue as a WeChat contact. He planned to follow up on Chen Jue’s condition for a while. If there were any changes or questions, Chen Jue could consult him directly through WeChat.

Of course, Chen Jue’s journey to the Eastern Hospital in the Magic City for this consultation was far from fruitless. In his view, since this hospital ranked first in the country for gallstone treatment, if even their doctors couldn’t help, there was virtually nowhere else to go.

After all, the very best medical resources were concentrated in the super-tier cities like the Imperial Capital, Magic City, and Mist City. The wealthy drove up housing prices in these places, caring not only about school districts but also, and perhaps more so, their health.

Just take the special consultation clinic here—registering for an appointment can cost hundreds or thousands, a single night’s hospital stay runs into four figures, and a surgery can set you back tens of thousands. Xu Ping’an’s team alone performed over ten thousand surgeries annually. With just a handful of doctors working in shifts, the economic value generated each year exceeded hundreds of millions—and this was just one department’s contribution.

Yet, there were only a handful of such specialist departments even nationwide. This was the scarcity of top-tier medical resources.

While waiting in line, Chen Jue had even seen a group of blond, blue-eyed foreigners speaking in foreign tongues. The fact that foreigners came here from afar was proof that the hospital’s gallstone treatment ranked among the world’s best.

Chen Jue was just an ordinary man, with neither money nor power. To access such medical care was already the ceiling of what he could hope for.

Fortunately, the outcome was encouraging!

Learning that his gallstones were shrinking at last put his anxious mind at ease.

“It seems this panel truly is powerful! It can even affect something as mysterious as gallstones, which medical science still can’t fully explain.”

“But the shrinking stones probably also have to do with medication, exercise, diet, and a regular routine,” Chen Jue mused to himself.

…

After leaving the Eastern Hospital, Chen Jue snatched the earliest ticket back to Hangzhou, making it home before nightfall.

On the way, he kept mulling over Xu Ping’an’s words. Human medical technology was indeed still undeveloped; many organ functions remained a mystery. It wasn’t just deadly diseases—even something as chronic as hair loss lacked effective treatments.

If one were to blindly have an organ removed like an average person, only to find after decades that a new, non-invasive, and side-effect-free treatment had been developed, wouldn’t one regret it for life?

“This is probably what they call the limitation of living in one’s own era!” Chen Jue’s mind wandered with many thoughts.

…

After a day of traveling between cities, he went to bed early upon returning.

Freed from the pressure of clocking in at work, Chen Jue found himself arranging his time more and more at will. He no longer bothered to keep checking the hour on his phone; simply watching the sun rise and set, or the moon’s position, was enough to tell him what he should be doing.

The next morning, after his customary eye exercises, he found his vision improving well, but his physical stats were no longer growing by 0.01 each time after morning exercise. Now, the increase only showed up once every two days.

By his estimation, his attributes had grown high enough that his body was developing a resistance to the combined “Eye Exercises” and red light therapy, much like a resistance to medication.

Still, his nearsightedness kept improving, and the world grew clearer before his eyes—a sure sign his persistence was paying off.

After a run in the park, he learned that Master Wu had already prepared the recommendation letter for auditing. Lacking Chen Jue’s contact information, the old man had asked Wu Fang to pass on the message. Since Chen Jue had been seeking treatment in the Magic City yesterday, they rescheduled for today.

When he met Teacher Wu again, she was as vibrant and charming as ever—dressed in white workout clothes, a red ribbon tying her ponytail. Her face glistened with a hint of sweat from exercise, and under the morning sun, she seemed to glow.

That wholesome, healthy aura was enough to send any normal man’s hormones surging at a glance.

However, after the night he’d gained clarity from the sudden death of the overweight man, Chen Jue no longer gave in to mere physiological impulses. He reflected that perhaps he’d been too shallow in the past.

After all, a pretty face could be rented for a price, but an interesting soul was truly rare and precious.

So, his attitude toward Wu Fang had shifted from eager adoration to a cooler, more measured distance.

Surprisingly, this change in demeanor drew out a new initiative from her.

“Master Chen, are you really going to audit classes at Jiang University?” Wu Fang put away her rope dart, wiped her brow with a sleeve, then fetched and handed over the recommendation letter.

To her, the man before her was becoming more of an enigma. Not only had his appearance and weight changed dramatically in a short time, but even his actions and choices had diverged from those of ordinary people.

Making videos and running a social media channel—those were already the fallback for laid-off middle-aged folks, like delivering food or driving ride-shares. But returning to campus to study at nearly thirty was wholly unexpected.

“How should I put it?”

“I plan to arm my body with muscle and strengthen my mind with knowledge.”

“Going back to university will let me soak up the campus atmosphere, reclaim some youthful vitality, and maybe look a little less old!” Chen Jue said half-jokingly, catching a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“You’ve lost so much weight lately, you really do look a lot more spirited than before!”

“So, after you start at Jiang University, will you still come here to film your specialty videos?” Wu Fang blurted out, her words tumbling out before she could think, and a blush quickly colored her cheeks.

Chen Jue smiled, taking the recommendation letter, “Jiang University is just ten minutes away by car. I’ll keep training tai chi with Teacher Zhao. Unless it rains, I’ll definitely come.”

When a woman is curious and expectant about a man, the outcome is self-evident.

Taking the letter, Chen Jue thanked Master Wu repeatedly, wondering if he should bring gifts of cigarettes or wine next time as a proper token of thanks.

After all, it wasn’t easy to gain access to such a top university as an auditor; the old man must have pulled some strings.

This favor was a significant one for Chen Jue.

But seeing Wu Fang’s rosy cheeks, he decided that a formal visit could wait for another day.

…

With the recommendation letter in hand, Chen Jue headed as usual to the small grove for tai chi practice.

He was surprised to find that Zhao Jianguo wasn’t there—gone on important business, leaving the students to train by themselves for several days.

Chen Jue didn’t mind. After all, he’d paid just a thousand yuan and had already absorbed much of Master Zhao’s tai chi essence—almost to the point of stripping him of all his secrets.

He spent two hours practicing stances and forms, his proficiency rising quickly, and his free stats and constitution increasing by another 0.01.

After breakfast outside the park, Chen Jue loaded all his belongings from the talent apartment into his SUV and drove to Jiang University with the recommendation letter.

It seemed Master Wu’s influence smoothed the way, as the process for becoming an auditor was seamless. After submitting the required documents to a male admissions clerk, it took less than half an hour for him to receive his student card.

With this card, he could enter and exit any classroom at Jiang University to audit courses. Choosing which classes to attend was up to him, through the university’s online system.

Each credit cost a hundred yuan in tuition, and he’d need to purchase his own textbooks and materials.

The student card also granted him access everywhere except specialized labs—he could use the library, cafeteria, sports facilities, and the campus hospital.

It was, in essence, a pass to all of Jiang University.

“I guess I’m now a student of one of the four great universities!”

“My ancestors must be smiling in their graves!”

Suppressing the urge to post a photo to his social media, Chen Jue headed to the nearest cafeteria for a meal.

Surrounded by crowds of fresh-faced youths, he felt as if he’d stepped ten years back in time.

They say that spending time with the young keeps your heart young. After this lunch, Chen Jue could only agree.

As for the food—unsurprisingly, Jiang University’s fare was excellent, with ingredients clearly better than those at Hengtong Group. After all, these were to nourish future talents; no one dared cut corners or slip in strange meats.

…

After lunch, he drove to Wangyang Apartments as agreed.

The senior who was subletting had been waiting and had thoroughly cleaned the room—it was clear they’d put in the effort.

He waited less than five minutes before the landlady, a teaching assistant at Jiang University, arrived.

From the moment she stepped in, a surge of hormones stirred within Chen Jue.

She wore a snow-white trench coat, reminiscent of a doctor’s lab coat, over a chiffon blouse. A fitted skirt hugged her hips, and long, slender legs, clad in sheer stockings, ended in high heels that clicked crisply on the floor.

Her hair was styled in fashionable black waves, framing a delicate, sculpted face—a look more reminiscent of a star from 80s or 90s Hong Kong cinema than a university teaching assistant.

Her retro chic outshone even Wu Fang’s, and her figure was equally stunning.

At a glance, Chen Jue recalled a saying popular among certain circles: “Slender branches bear ripe fruit—delicious and never overwhelming.”

“Ms. Xia, this is the senior who wants to rent your place,” the fourth-year student quickly introduced.

Ms. Xia glanced at Chen Jue, frowning slightly. “Are you a master’s or doctoral student? I must be clear—this apartment is only for students. No subletting or letting outsiders move in.”

“Hello, Ms. Xia! I’m an auditing student at Jiang University.” Chen Jue reined in his wayward thoughts, producing his freshly issued student card.

“An auditing student? That’s rare,” she replied, surprised, double-checking his status online before pulling out a lease from her bag.

Two copies were signed and stamped, with a video taken for proof. Once he paid the year’s rent in full, the contract was sealed.

During the process, Chen Jue also noted the beautiful TA’s name—Xia Xue.

“Xia Xue? Snow in the summer? What an interesting name,” he mused inwardly.

…

With the contract signed and the landlady’s WeChat added for emergencies, Chen Jue changed the password lock, watched the senior and the striking Ms. Xia leave, and set about moving his belongings in and arranging the apartment. The afternoon slipped by quickly.

When evening fell and his stomach growled, his biological clock told him it was time to eat.

He didn’t bother looking for food nearby—lunch at the university cafeteria had left a great impression. He decided to invite Zheng Yuan out for a meal, both to thank him for helping find the apartment and because Zheng Yuan, as Wu Fang’s cousin, was his only acquaintance at Jiang University. With so much to learn, it would be wise to seek advice from a scholar.

He sent a message suggesting they meet at the cafeteria, then left Wangyang Apartments.

Noticing that only a wall separated the apartments from campus, Chen Jue was struck by an absurd idea: “The shortest distance between two points is a straight line!”

“If I take the road around the river, it’ll take at least fifteen minutes.”

“Climbing over the wall shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Taking advantage of the darkness, he approached the wall, which was about two and a half meters high—high enough to reach the top with a jump. There were no streetlights nearby and no one was watching.

He took a running start, braced his foot against the wall, hooked his hands over the ledge, and pushed himself up with the arm strength he’d built over the past days.

The other side was just plain concrete, with a few street trees—nothing dangerous.

After a quick check, Chen Jue nimbly swung himself over.

At that moment, a message popped up on his panel:

[Ding~]
[You have completed an excellent climbing and vaulting maneuver]
[Climbing proficiency +5]