Even with the nation-toppling beauty temporarily back on her own side, Chu Ge's writing time wasn't exactly roomy.
Because there was more to do now.
Jogging, push-ups, all of that — still doing it. This was the foundation of the physique. He wouldn't claim he needed to train it to perfection, but a man with a gut who gets winded just jogging, then talks about cultivating and practicing martial arts? That was comedy.
Meditation morning and evening. These days meditation wasn't just running the great cycle anymore; he moved his qi along the Golden Bell Shield's circulation path, so it counted as Golden Bell Shield practice too. In more professional terms, he'd made the Golden Bell Shield his root art.
Thinking about it almost brought tears to his eyes. How did I drift into this style without noticing?
Thankfully he hadn't written this thing to require a virginity art... Chu Ge had always considered the whole virginity-art setup unscientific. Men don't have a hymen. If a full load spills over on its own, does that count as losing your primal yang? Isn't it the same thing? So why does doing that one thing suddenly ruin you?
There's no logic to it, right?
Besides circulating the art, there was also soul-forging. You can't just get mind-controlled by any random person and end up their dog, right? Setting aside anything that serious, Chu Ge didn't want everything in his head read clean out of him either — that was not a good feeling.
So his meditation time had more than doubled from before.
On top of that, movement technique — you can't just stand there taking hits, right? At the very least, when things look bad, you have to be able to run.
For now the movement technique meant small, nimble footwork and evasion — no need to practice outdoors; indoors would do. The place cluttered with stuff piled everywhere? Even better. Walking at leisure through a complicated space was exactly the point.
Chu Ge strolled around the room, and even in a set of pajamas felt a sort of elegant, unhurried flavor, riding the wind over the void... He felt his style had gotten even weirder.
Treading the Wave-Walking Steps and then bellowing out a Golden Bell Shield — what kind of cut-and-paste style is this?
Chu Ge wasn't even bothering to think about what offensive methods to train later; instead he was wondering which one would be funniest to splice in...
All told, the various exercises added up to about three hours. Not as much time as work and side jobs used to eat, but this sort of thing seemed to get longer the further you went. At Qiu Wuji's level, any casual closed-door meditation was counted in months, even years — how was he supposed to write then?
Forget it. That's probably a change that comes only after decades of training, and it won't reach that level within the time it takes to write this one book, so it shouldn't be a problem.
On the contrary, as he trained, his energy got better and better, his writing flowed smoother and smoother — his efficiency actually went up.
A ten-thousand-word daily update used to be a record-breaker; now it was routine.
Training on one side, writing on the other, two days passed quickly. Qiu Wuji still hadn't come back, but the class reunion had arrived.
Chu Ge straightened his collar and looked at himself in the mirror, and for a moment he felt he hardly recognized the man.
Still as handsome as ever... mm...
It was just that his spirit and vitality were so much better — back straight, eyes bright.
If he'd had this kind of presence back at that blind date, would Gu Ruoyan have reacted differently? Who cares. Why am I even thinking about that? The one who brought all of this is Qiu Wuji.
"Oh? The great author's here this early?"
The hotel booked for the reunion was decent enough; a pity Old Hong had booked late, so he'd only gotten tables in the main hall.
Not many people were attending — two tables' worth, at least. Private rooms weren't easy to get either, so the main hall it was; nobody minded.
He found his table. Old Hong was already there, with his wife in tow — she was their classmate too. It was still a bit early, only a small fraction of the group had arrived, and they all praised Chu Ge at the sight of him: "Damn, you keep getting more handsome. How come nobody could tell back then?"
Chu Ge smoothed his hair. "Men get better with age. All of you who didn't snatch me up back then — regretting it yet?"
Old Hong laughed. "You were too much of a loner back then — honestly, you still are. You skipped half the activities, never turned up for basketball or soccer, and day after day you were either holed up in an internet cafe or hiding in the dorm reading novels. You were basically listed as missing. Who was going to snatch you up?"
Someone else laughed. "Writers, man. That's how they are."
Everyone laughed.
Chu Ge smiled faintly. Their laughter was still teasing, even a bit mocking, and in the past it had always left him slightly uncomfortable. Like none of you ever disappeared into an internet cafe back then? We were all the same, weren't we? So why is it that once I write books, even the things we all had in common turn into something peculiar to me, and you bring up the 'writer' thing every chance you get?
But now it truly felt like nothing to him.
She had said his writing was great.
So what's any of that to you people?
He didn't bother saying anything, just took his seat. "Brother Wuyang's not here?"
Old Hong said, "Big section chief at the City Bureau — he's run off his feet. He said earlier he might have to work overtime and couldn't make it, then late this afternoon he said it was fine, he could come."
A classmate asked, "Public servants openly drinking at a banquet, and sitting out in the main hall where everyone can see — isn't that a problem?"
Another classmate, a woman, said, "Outside the eight-hour workday, a weekend class reunion — that's perfectly natural, completely normal. You people always make civil servant matters out to be more complicated than they are. Cops are people too. As long as he doesn't show up in uniform, it's fine."
This classmate's name was Zhang Manli. She was a civil servant too, in Civil Affairs, or so he'd heard.
Chu Ge's thoughts stirred again. I wonder whether someone in Civil Affairs could be any help with Qiu Wuji's identity problem... He sighed. Networking for gain it was. For his Qiu Wuji, he'd go all in.
Just as he was about to butter her up with a couple of words, something stirred in his heart — a sense he couldn't even explain the origin of.
So he turned and looked toward the hotel entrance.
Lin Wuyang was walking in.
Almost at the same moment, another group pulled up and parked outside; someone stepped out of a car.
Lin Wuyang instinctively turned to look, and saw Zhang Qiren just getting out.
Zhang Qiren paused, as if he too hadn't expected to run into Lin Wuyang here. Their eyes met for a few seconds, and Zhang Qiren put on a polite smile. "Never thought I'd run into you here, Chief Lin. Here for dinner?"
Lin Wuyang said slowly, "Don't tell me this hotel is yours too?"
"Oh, no, no. I'm just here to treat a friend to dinner. Don't misunderstand, Chief Lin — my family doesn't have much money."
"Whatever kind of 'friend' you're treating." Lin Wuyang turned coldly and walked into the main hall. "You've made about enough money..."
The words sounded half like mockery, half like a warning. Zhang Qiren didn't answer; he only smiled and watched him go into the hall.
Then his gaze sharpened slightly, and surprise finally showed on his face — he saw Lin Wuyang, smiling cheerfully, walking over to one of the tables in the hall, where a familiar face sat, also staring back at him in surprise.
Chu Ge.
His eyes looked ready to bulge right out of his head.
Zhang Qiren turned to glance at the underlings behind him, then looked down at the expensive outfit he was wearing, and his face actually felt a little hot — as though being seen like this by Chu Ge was humiliating.
Other people get rich and look proud and pleased when they meet an old friend; he had gotten rich and, seeing Chu Ge, actually felt ashamed. Zhang Qiren savored this mood of his for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh at himself and shake his head.
"Boss?" The underling behind him was confused.
"Oh, it's nothing." Zhang Qiren pulled himself together and smiled again. "Big Ears, keep an ear on what that table's saying in a bit. Be careful."
The big-eared underling laughed. "Got it. Chief Lin, right."
Zhang Qiren smiled, took one more look at Chu Ge, and turned to head upstairs.
His QQ had already been blown up by Chu Ge: "Zhang Qiren, you bastard, so your whole 'flopping and going home' was actually going home to inherit a mega-fortune?!"
He fished out his phone, took one look, and let out a soft sigh.