The Perfect Body Proportions

Watching the Buick minivan drive away, Chen Jue turned and entered the small villa he had just rented. The villa had three floors, but since it was a micro-villa, the usable space inside was probably not even as large as his old family home, though the décor was neat and charming.

He set down his travel bag filled with dumbbells, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and went upstairs. He took out his change of clothes and hung them up, noticing it was already close to noon.

Leaving the villa, he strolled a few steps, taking in the island’s coastal charm. When he reached a main road and saw a taxi heading back to the county seat, he flagged it down and got in. He had come here intending to combine leisure and training, a balance of work and rest. Since he was living well, he also wanted to eat well. He gave the driver the name of a seafood restaurant he’d heard about earlier.

The taxi driver clearly knew the place and chatted with him a bit. In just over ten minutes, Chen Jue was dropped off at the restaurant.

The restaurant, too, was decorated in coastal style. It was lunchtime, and the place was bustling. Chen Jue found a seat and ordered a plate of scallion oil swimming crabs, salt and pepper prawns, steamed sea bass, sautéed seasonal greens, and braised pork, all accompanied by rice—a sumptuous meal.

Lately, Chen Jue found himself appreciating fine food, so spending over two hundred yuan on a meal for one didn’t bother him at all. The fishing ban had just ended, making this the prime season for the freshest, fattest seafood. He devoured four big bowls of rice with his meal.

“This place is really worth it! Not too expensive, and the food is delicious!” Chen Jue thought with satisfaction, deciding to come back and try more dishes later.

Rubbing his full belly, still savoring the meal, he stepped out of the restaurant and wandered the street. He bought a pair of diving goggles and two pairs of swim trunks, then hailed another taxi back to the villa.

…

Back at the villa, he listened to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, a restless rhythm different from the calm of his hometown, and drifted into a delightful afternoon nap.

He woke at half past two in the afternoon. The sun was bright and the sky blue. Instead of working out, he changed into his swim trunks, grabbed the new diving goggles, and decided to try swimming in the sea, eager to experience the ocean’s undercurrents.

He left his shirt and jacket behind, exposing skin that was fair with a healthy pink hue. Years of training had sculpted his body—his muscles were sharply defined, his stomach flat, an eight-pack of abs and two prominent pectorals, with striking oblique lines along his sides. At a glance, he looked like the perfect human form of a Western statue: broad-boned, chiseled, thick hair, and now, without glasses, his features seemed even more radiant.

He had barely set foot on the beach below the villa when he began drawing attention.

“Whoa! Damn!”
“Look at that physique!”
“Is he a fitness coach?”
“He even has the Adonis belt!”
“So handsome! So stylish!”

Many female tourists on the beach stared at him, nearly drooling. A few younger, bolder ones even approached and tried to get his WeChat contact.

Chen Jue didn’t refuse, rattling off a string of numbers—he had no intention of accepting any friend requests anyway. With his training so intense, he had no time for flirting.

The men nearby, meanwhile, looked on with envy and resentment, wishing they could perform some miraculous head-swap and attach their own faces to Chen Jue’s body.

…

Barefoot, he walked across the sand. Though there were pebbles and sharp little stones, his feet were unaffected, hardened by years of Shaolin iron-skin training.

He strolled to the water’s edge, gazing at the distant sea. Dozens of meters out, a floating barrier bobbed in the waves—a safety measure to keep swimmers from straying too far and risking danger. Beyond that, a few jet skis cruised back and forth, and lifeguards watched from the shore; safety protocols were strict.

Chen Jue waded into the water, feeling the surge and retreat of the waves against his legs. The ocean’s force was in a different league from the mild ripples of his hometown reservoir.

“This is the perfect place to train,” he thought, putting on his diving goggles and diving headlong toward the open water.

The further he swam, the stronger the pull of the undercurrents. When he reached the barrier, his feet no longer touched the sandy bottom, so he surfaced at last—just in time for a wave to crash over him and pull him under.

The sea was like that: unpredictable, relentless, nothing like the tranquil waters of a pool, pond, or reservoir. Open-water swimming required serious skill; most people wouldn’t dare venture far from shore.

Anyone swimming dozens of meters out usually wore a life jacket or clung to a float. So when Chen Jue surfaced at the barrier, a lifeguard on a jet ski blew his whistle and sped over.

“It’s too dangerous here! The water is deep and the waves are strong! Swim back! Stay in the shallow areas!” The lifeguard, a bronzed, weather-beaten man in his forties or fifties, clearly spent his life by the sea.

“Alright! I’m heading back!” Chen Jue called back with a smile, understanding the advice was well-intentioned. With a powerful kick, he launched himself backward, executing a swift and flawless backstroke toward the beach.

His technique was impeccable, his muscles prominent, his stamina extraordinary. Each stroke and kick propelled him several meters, his movements fluid and unbroken. Even in the choppy sea, he moved so quickly that the lifeguard could only watch in astonishment.

He figured Chen Jue must be a professional swimmer—no one else could backstroke at such a speed with such grace, not even the local fishermen.

…

A distance of several dozen meters, helped along by the waves, took Chen Jue just over ten seconds to cover before he reached the shore.

He soaked in the sea a while longer, gazing at the deep blue expanse until he felt utterly at peace, every muscle relaxed.

Finally, after sitting in the shallows to his heart’s content, he stood and made his way back to the villa amid countless wistful glances.

He noticed it was still early, just past four in the afternoon, so he took out his two-hundred-kilogram dumbbells, removed a couple of plates to set the weight at one hundred kilograms, and began alternating lifts with both hands.

His strength stat had reached 1.96; though he could just barely manage to lift a 150-kilogram dumbbell with one hand, it wouldn’t be effective for training, so he reduced the weight.

Chen Jue was secretly glad he’d had the foresight to order the dumbbells in detachable form rather than fixed. Otherwise, he’d have had to wait until his strength exceeded 2.5, maybe even reaching 3, before he could make full use of the 200-kilogram set.