The First Goal After Making Money

Life these days wasn’t so bad, after all.

It was a little past nine in the morning, and the dry, chill air still cut straight to the bone.

Chen Anquan stood in short sleeves and long pants, each hand resting on the white marble rail as he gazed towards the distant mountains.

That mountain was called Ao Bei Mountain—this was the tallest peak in the area, and its slopes were the steepest. On rainy days, the mist would shroud the heights, transforming the landscape into something out of a fairy tale, mysterious and otherworldly.

When he was a boy, Chen Anquan had seen a rainbow arch across Ao Bei’s midsection after a summer storm. The village elders used to say that, long ago, tigers prowled those wild slopes. Some even claimed that monsters haunted the forests and would eat little children.

Now, Chen Anquan believed all these were just stories to frighten mischievous kids.

Pop!

A bubble rose from the muck at the bottom of the pond and burst on the surface, sending a ripple across the water.

Startled by the sound, Chen Anquan drew his thoughts back from the mountains and looked down. He caught sight of a tiny fish, no bigger than his thumb, rising for a breath before darting back into the muddy depths.

So there really were fish here!

He decided that next time, after a tiring session of practice, he’d come to this pond to fish.

He held the key to his grandfather’s house—no, now it was his own—and turned towards the basketball court.

Moo, moo!

After unlocking the old iron padlock, Chen Anquan braced himself and twisted the bolt.

The bolt groaned in protest, sounding as weary as an old ox.

“How strange,” he murmured.

Just yesterday, he’d struggled mightily to open this bolt, which hadn’t been moved in years. Today, he’d managed it with only about eighty percent of the effort.

Evidently, that 0.06 boost to his physical stat—a six percent improvement over an average person—made a real difference in strength!

Suppressing his delight, Chen Anquan gently pushed open the wooden door.

A low, buzzing hum erupted as a swarm of wild bees poured out, streaming into the open air.

He’d learned yesterday that these bees didn’t sting, so he’d dismissed any thought of disturbing their hive. Perhaps, before long, he’d be able to enjoy some wild honey.

The house his grandfather left him wasn’t large. There was no second floor—just a main room, two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a little side room for bathing and storing the chamber pot.

In the old days, rural houses never had indoor toilets. Everyone used the semi-outdoor latrine, built a short distance from the house—a row of simple stalls, each over a pit, with two wooden planks for your feet. You squatted and set up a makeshift barricade of planks for privacy.

As a child, Chen Anquan had rarely used those rough latrines, and he’d never grown used to their squalor. With no toilet at home, he couldn’t spend every day squatting at his second uncle’s outhouse.

“When I have the money, I’ll build myself a modern bathroom,” he declared.

Doing a quick calculation—digging a cesspit, laying pipes, installing a toilet, tiling, and buying materials—it would cost about ten thousand yuan. His entire fortune was only twenty thousand; he couldn’t afford such luxuries just yet.

He stepped outside, deciding to visit the village store.

Between two ponds stood an old three-story building, built like a wartime pillbox—this had once been his second uncle’s shop. But his uncle no longer ran it, so Chen Anquan had to look elsewhere.

Entering the only shop left in the village, he frowned at the single shelf by the door.

He had a long shopping list, but the selection here was pitiful. Most of the stock was snacks for children—spicy sticks, beans, candies, preserved plums, and little toys.

Five or six middle-aged villagers sat around a table at the back, absorbed in a game of cards. No one greeted him as he entered.

Chen Anquan couldn’t tell who was the owner.

He quietly picked out toothpaste, a toothbrush, a towel, and a few daily necessities. Then, in a thick local accent, he called out to the group, “How much for all this?”

“Hey, handsome! So you’re from around here after all?” One of the card-playing women glanced at him in surprise.

His clothing and features were unfamiliar in this small, close-knit mountain village, so they’d all assumed he was an outsider.

“My second uncle is Chen Jintang,” Chen Anquan replied awkwardly.

“Oh,” the woman said, barely glancing up from her cards. “That’ll be thirty yuan. Just scan the code yourself.”

Chen Jintang had plenty of nephews—none of them cared which one he was.

The price seemed a little steep, but Chen Anquan paid with his phone and left.

After he was gone, the woman who’d spoken glanced at her friends. “I remember their fifth son died over twenty years ago. His boy would be about this age now.”

“Could that be Anquan himself?”

“Poor child. Raised by his grandfather, and none of those sons willing to take care of their brother’s boy.”

“You know, that old man had so many sons, but he never once spent New Year’s Eve dinner with any of them.”

A quiet discussion of Chen Anquan’s family affairs began among the group.

But Chen Anquan, having left the shop, was unaware of their conversation.

Carrying his new toiletries, he returned home. He turned sideways to squeeze through the narrow hall into the room he’d cleaned the day before and set his purchases on a dusty, broken stool.

There was still much to buy—brooms, a dustpan, bowls, chopsticks, basins, buckets, furniture, appliances—all the essentials.

He remembered passing a small supermarket in the neighboring Maplewood Village when he’d taken the bus to Ao Bei. They probably sold everything he needed.

He’d act at once.

Since it was still early, Chen Anquan decided to make the trip to Maplewood Village.

It was about three kilometers away, a forty-minute walk at a normal pace.

But with his new stat panel, walking seemed like a waste. With this system, why not get some real exercise?

To train properly, he would have to run.

After putting his things away, Chen Anquan slipped back through the narrow hall, closed the wooden doors, bolted and locked them, then jogged out past the basketball court.

His sudden sprint drew the attention of the villagers nearby.

Running in broad daylight was a rare sight in this mountain hamlet—a striking scene.

There, along the only road leading out of the village, a young man was running at full speed.

His pace grew faster and faster, until he was nearly at his limit.