He couldn't behave even during class.

That night, Chen Jue slept fitfully, most likely because of the in-ear headphones he wore; after a prolonged period, his ears began to ache with a stinging pain. When he got up in the morning, he found the outer rim of his ear bright red. The auricle and ear canal are extremely delicate, lacking subcutaneous tissue, with only a thin layer of skin over bone, beneath which lies a network of blood vessels and nerves. Clearly, the headphones had pressed on the area for too long, disrupting blood flow and irritating the nerves, resulting in a mild inflammation.

“So, sleeping with headphones is out of the question!” Chen Jue gently massaged the reddened area with his fingers. Thanks to his regular “eye exercises”, his massage technique was quite skilled by now. After a few moments, the stinging subsided a little. Still feeling alert in the early morning, he searched online for a pressure-free, over-ear noise-canceling headset and ordered one straight away.

Wangyang Apartment was home to many university couples; awkward sounds such as those from the night before could be heard from all directions—upstairs, downstairs, even next door. It wasn’t as if he could simply shut off his hearing every night, so for now, he had no choice but to rely on these sleep gadgets recommended by netizens to ensure a decent rest. As for a sleep mask, he didn’t need one—he preferred to sense the sunlight outside with his own eyes, adjusting his biological clock accordingly.

After washing up and changing into sportswear, Chen Jue went up to the rooftop for thirty minutes of eye exercises, then drove to the park where he used to practice in the mornings.

He ran into Wu Fang again, who was, as always, accompanying the old Mr. Wu with his morning routine. They noticed each other at the same time, exchanged a wave and a greeting, and after a brief “Good morning,” Chen Jue nodded and headed into the grove to continue practicing Tai Chi.

Zhao Jianguo was still nowhere to be seen. After asking a few of the older students, Chen Jue learned that Zhao had left for another province, reportedly to visit his master, and wouldn’t be back until next week.

Without an instructor, Chen Jue simply practiced on his own. His Tai Chi and stance skills had reached a decent level, so there was little risk of making mistakes. The skill proficiency prompts on his attribute panel let him monitor his progress at any time, so practicing solo was nearly as effective as following along with a group.

After about two hours, his free attribute increased by 0.01 again, and his various Tai Chi skills improved by over 200 points each. Tai Chi is a discipline for health as much as martial art; at first, the effects are subtle, but as he progressed, Chen Jue found it eased his physical fatigue. The forty high pull-ups he did the previous night had taken a toll—his lower back and abdominal muscles were still stiff and sore that morning. Yet after practicing Tai Chi, the tension and stiffness melted from those areas. The attribute growth was slow, but after two hours, Chen Jue felt more energetic and spirited than when he’d first gotten up.

Leaving the grove, he passed by the chess tables once more. Wu Fang and the old gentleman had just finished their exercises and were packing up to head to school. Seeing Chen Jue emerge from the park, Wu Fang, with a small backpack slung over her shoulder, bounced over lightly. “I heard from my cousin you’ve already moved near Jiang University. You really get things done fast, Master Chen!”

“Just call me by my name, please. ‘Master’ is too much,” Chen Jue replied with a slight smile.

He noticed that Wu Fang seemed much less reserved around him than before, even showing a bit of interest in his daily life. This was a promising shift from passive to active interaction!

“All right, then I’ll call you Jue-ge from now on!” she replied. “So shy and quiet in real life, but a force to be reckoned with online—the username you picked for your video account is clever, too. A nice play on words.” Wu Fang’s eyes crinkled into crescent moons as she laughed, walking out of the park shoulder to shoulder with Chen Jue.

“Do you want a ride to school?” Chen Jue offered.

“No need! The campus is close by; I ride my e-bike every day. If you drove me, I’d have to catch the No. 11 bus back!” Wu Fang waved her hand, hopped off like a high schooler just out of class, and dashed into the upscale residential complex beside the park.

Chen Jue paused in surprise. He hadn’t expected the normally serious Teacher Wu to have such a playful, adorable side. Perhaps spending so much time around high schoolers had made her personality a bit tsundere—cold on the outside, warm within.

He wasn’t disappointed about missing the chance to give her a ride. The fact that she’d willingly chatted with him was already a significant step forward in their relationship.

He grabbed breakfast nearby, then drove back to Jiang University’s campus.

At the library, he picked up all the textbooks he had ordered the night before—thirteen courses in total, enough books to fill two large stacks. Since he was only auditing classes, he’d chosen all first-year texts. He lugged the pile to his car, breathing in the scent of new books, before heading back to Wangyang Apartment.

He printed the class schedule from the intranet. Because he was shuffling between three majors, there were some time conflicts. Chen Jue weeded out courses that seemed too advanced or unnecessary for now—no point in running around like a headless chicken. Fortunately, all of Jiang University’s classes were recorded on cloud video, so if worst came to worst, he could just study the textbooks on his own. He wasn’t aiming to take exams, only to better understand his own body; there was no need to master every detail.

Glancing at the newly printed schedule, his first class was “Zoology and Laboratory” from the biology program in the morning, followed by “Human Anatomy” from clinical medicine and “Sports Training” from physical education in the afternoon.

He checked the classroom locations, packed the relevant textbooks and a notebook into his small bag, and left the apartment. He lingered by the campus wall until the crowds thinned, then ran up, hooked his hand over the top, and vaulted over with practiced ease.

A notification flashed on his attribute panel: [Climbing proficiency +5]. Chen Jue grinned. If he kept climbing like this every day, especially combined with pull-up training, his climbing skill would improve quickly.

Landing smoothly, he saw he had twenty minutes before his first class. He picked up the pace, jogging to the biology department building.

“A large lecture?” Chen Jue noted the layout—a semi-circular auditorium with hundreds of seats. The lecturer, a middle-aged man, was at the podium setting up his presentation. The freshmen, still looking green, filed into the seats.

Since his nearsightedness hadn’t fully improved, Chen Jue chose a seat near the front for better hearing. The classroom was abuzz with students chatting and shuffling around, but when the bell rang, silence fell.

The lecturer clapped his hands to get their attention. “Today we’ll continue our discussion: why humans are classified as animals, and explore part of the theory of human origins.”

“To study biology, to explore other forms of life, we must first understand ourselves!”

As soon as the lecturer began, Chen Jue was drawn in, quickly flipping to the chapter on human origins as indicated.

“Good, it’s still early in the semester; I can keep up,” Chen Jue thought as he skimmed the textbook, then looked up to focus on the projector screen.

“Humans, in biological terminology, are called ‘modern Homo sapiens’ or ‘late Homo sapiens’—the only surviving species of the genus Homo, classified in the order Primates, family Hominidae, genus Homo, making us relatives of chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans, and gibbons.”

“In other words, humans are closely related to apes and monkeys, with a split occurring at a certain point in evolution.”

“You’ve probably heard adults say, ‘Humans evolved from monkeys.’ That’s not entirely accurate.”

The lecturer paused, switching to a comparative chart. It showed a 98% genetic similarity between humans and monkeys, and an even higher 98.7% similarity with chimpanzees. But surprisingly, the comparison with fish showed a 70% genetic similarity.

The freshmen immediately began whispering:

“What? We’re descended from fish?”
“Guess I’m pickled fish—sour, weak, and redundant.”
“I’m spicy fish!”
“I’m grilled fish!”
“I must be a mudskipper!” (laughing and crying)

Chen Jue watched the real-time comment feed on the presentation and marveled at how even elite universities kept up with the times—using live bullet comments to make classes more engaging and help students focus.

The lecturer chuckled at the comments. “Strictly speaking, apes and fish are both our ancestors. Stretch the evolutionary timeline back half a billion years, and fish predate apes as our forebears.”

“In simple terms, fish are our ancient ancestors, apes our great-grandfathers, early humans our grandfathers, Homo erectus our father, and we are the current generation. Gaps remain in the family tree, with undiscovered branches yet to be unearthed by science and archaeology.”

He switched to the next slide, displaying similarities between humans and fish—evidence of the evolutionary leap. Beyond genetic similarity, the bone structure in human arms and fingers is similar to fish fins. During embryonic development, humans have structures like gill slits, webbed fingers, and even a vestigial tail—a legacy of our evolutionary past.

“So we evolved from fish?”
“Interesting!”

Chen Jue listened intently. As he took notes with his pen, he absentmindedly spun it around his fingers. With his mastery in [Hidden Weapon Throwing] at level 5, his dexterity with slender objects was supreme. The pen twirled, flipped, and spun, sometimes leaping a dozen centimeters into the air before being caught again, his ten fingers moving like a pianist’s.

The display caught the attention of nearby freshmen, who shot curious glances his way.

“Wow! Check out that guy spinning the pen!”
“Which class is he in? I haven’t seen him before.”
“Looks like an older student auditing—definitely not a freshman.”
“That pen work! I’d call him the strongest in first year!”
“He’s a pen-spinning sage!”

Their whispers went unnoticed by Chen Jue, who froze for a moment as a prompt appeared on his attribute panel:

[Beep~]
[You’ve completed a qualified finger dexterity exercise. Your hidden weapon technique grows more proficient.]
[Hidden Weapon Throwing proficiency +5]

“What? Spinning a pen increases proficiency?” Chen Jue was stunned. He’d tried darts, cards, skipping stones, nails, even toothpicks, and had to painstakingly devise ways to improve his [Hidden Weapon Throwing]. Who would have thought that simply spinning a pen during a lecture could do the trick?

If pen spinning counted, he could train even while attending classes. However, his pen-spinning was a bit showy—the pen occasionally flying higher than the heads of those in front. Even the lecturer noticed, coughed gently, and said, “The student spinning the pen—if you want to practice juggling, please move to the back so you don't disturb others.”

The entire auditorium erupted in laughter.

He had to admit, he’d gone overboard and drawn too much attention.

“Yes, sir!” Flushing, Chen Jue gathered his books and pen and retreated to the back row under the gaze of every freshman.

He’d always sat in the back since high school anyway; the auditorium was spacious, the projection screen as large as a cinema’s, and even from the doorway, he wouldn’t miss a thing.

Now that he was in the last row, he wouldn’t disturb anyone. Chen Jue unabashedly continued spinning his pen while listening to the lecture, and even placed his grip strength trainer on the desk. With both hands working simultaneously, he could listen, train his grip, and spin his pen—all at once, the classic multitasking skills of a seasoned underachiever!