He walked into his apartment’s private gym.
The room was exactly as he’d left it that morning, the equipment arranged in neat rows beneath soft, indirect lighting. He hadn’t stepped inside since yesterday’s basketball practice. Between the system upgrades, the Bone-Tempering Pill, the Jade Purity Elixir, dinner with Maya, the rebate cycles, and his study of the Dao Language, the day had simply left no room for exercise.
He walked over to the dumbbell rack. The heaviest pair in the collection weighed two hundred and fifty pounds each, purchased the previous week at his trainer’s suggestion, partly as a joke, partly out of curiosity. Even with his system-enhanced physique, lifting them had once required genuine effort.
He reached down and picked one up. He nearly threw it. Not because it was too heavy. Because it wasn’t.
The two-hundred-and-fifty-pound dumbbell felt almost weightless in his hand. He could feel the cool steel beneath his fingers, the texture of the knurled grip, even the inertia of the metal as he moved it, but the crushing pull of gravity that should have accompanied its mass simply wasn’t there.
It was like holding a foam prop shaped to resemble a dumbbell.
Stan stared at it for a long moment. Then he slowly curled it. He did it effortlessly...
He lowered it just as smoothly before extending his arm straight out in front of him. Still effortless. Like he was lifting a feather...
He rotated his wrist in slow circles, holding the weight fully extended. His shoulder didn’t tremble. His forearm didn’t tighten. It felt as though he could maintain the position indefinitely.
He lowered the dumbbell and picked up its partner.
One in each hand. Five hundred pounds in total, still nothing.
"...Sigh." The word escaped him as he looked at the pair of dumbbells. "What use is this gym room now..."
The Bone-Tempering Pill had increased the density of his skeleton by roughly fivefold. The Jade Purity Elixir had refined every other aspect of his body to near-perfect efficiency, while the Qi now circulating through his meridians reinforced every movement he made.
The combined effect was absurd. The level of strength he’d considered exceptional that morning had become almost meaningless by evening.
He set the dumbbells back onto the rack and walked over to the loaded barbell.
Before today’s transformations, he’d been deadlifting around eight hundred pounds, close to the upper limit of what his enhanced body had been capable of.
He bent down, wrapped his hands around the bar, and lifted.
The weight rose as effortlessly as if it were an empty training bar.
He set it back down, straightened, then slowly shook his head.
"So this is what that pill did," he murmured. "Still feels surreal."
He didn’t bother testing his limits.
There was little point. He was already reasonably certain the equipment would reach its maximum capacity long before he reached his own. Based on what he’d just experienced, even a conservative estimate placed his current physical strength at nearly ten times what it had been that morning.
Leaving the weight rack behind, he walked over to the treadmill.
He set it to a comfortable running pace and started moving.
He didn’t need the exercise. His cardiovascular system was almost certainly operating at a level no conventional training program could meaningfully improve.
But the rhythmic motion helped. After two hours spent immersing himself in the Dao Language, he wanted something simple. Familiar. A chance to let his mind settle while his body moved on instinct.
He ran for fifteen minutes at an easy pace.
As the treadmill hummed beneath his feet, he watched the lights of the city glitter beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. His thoughts drifted over everything the evening had brought, the rebates, the inventory, the Dao Language, and the staggering new baseline of his physical abilities.
Then his phone rang. It rested on the side table beside the treadmill.
He stepped off the moving belt, walked over, and picked it up.
The caller ID displayed a familiar name.
[Sarah.]
A faint smile touched his lips as he swiped to answer.
"Sarah."
"Surprise!"
Her voice came through bright and warm, carrying that unmistakable, giddy lilt she always had whenever she was pleased with herself over some small private mischief. Behind her, he caught the sound of wind and the faint echo of footsteps on tile.
"What are you up to?"
"Oh, nothing. Bye."
The line went dead.
She had hung up.
Stan stared at the phone for a moment, one eyebrow lifting.
"...Okay."
Then, almost on cue, the doorbell chimed.
A clean, gentle sound echoed through the apartment. Understanding dawned instantly.
A slow, effortless smile spread across his face, the quiet smile of a man who had just been pleasantly outmaneuvered.
He set the phone back on the table, left the gym, crossed the hallway, and opened the front door.
Sarah stood on the doorstep.
An overnight bag rested at her feet. In one hand, she carried a takeaway bag that smelled unmistakably of something homemade, warm, savory, and infused with fresh herbs. She wore a soft cream knit sweater that draped loosely past her hips, dark jeans, and the small gold pendant he had given her a few weeks earlier, glinting at the open collar. Her hair fell freely over her shoulders, her makeup was light, and she looked exactly like a woman who had decided hours ago that she was going to surprise him and had stubbornly refused to second-guess herself ever since.
She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes.
"Surprise," she repeated, this time more softly.
Stan leaned against the doorframe, his smile widening.
"What a surprise."
"You’ve forgotten all about me, Stan."
"I promise I haven’t." He tapped the side of his head. "You’re still up here."
Then he rested a hand lightly against his chest.
"And in here."
Sarah tried to look offended, though the corners of her lips were already betraying her.
"Well... it’s been so long that I figured I’d come and see you myself. Your apartment isn’t exactly a secret." She tilted her head. "So... are you going to let me in?"
Stan pretended to consider it.
"I’m thinking about it."
"Stan."
She puffed out her cheeks in an exaggerated pout.
He chuckled, stepped aside, and pulled the door fully open.
"Come in."
She picked up her overnight bag and walked past him into the apartment, the takeaway bag swaying gently at her side. As she brushed by, she left behind the comforting aroma of a meal she had clearly spent hours preparing.
Stan watched her for a moment before closing the door behind them.