dmims Chapter 177
Chapter 177
He closed his eyes again and continued practicing. After fifty repetitions, he opened his eyes to check the position—it was off by about thirty centimeters. Better than yesterday.
We practiced until six o'clock, and then the plateau arrived.
Today he was carrying two fried dough sticks wrapped in paper, eating them as he walked. The oil seeped out of the paper, leaving dark oil stains.
"Where's Chen Hao?" Gao Yuan walked over and looked around.
"I don't know. He wasn't here when I arrived."
Gao Yuan took a bite of the fried dough stick and chewed it. "This guy is so mysterious."
He finished the remaining fried dough sticks in a few bites, crumpled the wrapper into a ball, and threw it into the nearby trash can. The trash can was made of sheet metal, and the paper ball hit it with a dull thud.
"Come on, keep practicing."
The two practiced left-hand against left-hand for another twenty minutes.
Gao Yuan wasn't in good form today; his footwork was a bit sluggish when defending, and Lin Feng got past him several times. He realized it himself, stopped, and braced himself against his knees to catch his breath.
"Didn't you sleep well last night?" Lin Feng asked.
Gao Yuan shook his head. "It's not that I didn't sleep well, it's that I had a dream. I dreamt that my dad wanted me to go back to mind the shop, but I refused, and he hit me with a wrench."
Lin Feng looked at him.
"Really," Gao Yuan said. "That wrench was huge in my dream, bigger than my head."
Lin Feng didn't know what to say, so he handed the ball to him. "Again."
At 6:40, Chen Hao appeared.
He didn't come from the dormitory building; he walked from the direction of the training hall. He was carrying the "New Concept English" book and a bottle of water. His hair was a little wet, as if he had just washed it.
"Where did you go?" Gao Yuan asked.
"The training facility was open, so I went in and shot some hoops."
Gao Yuan looked at him, then at Lin Feng. "You're all crazy, aren't you?"
Chen Hao ignored him, walked to the steps, sat down, and opened a book.
Lin Feng continued dribbling. Gao Yuan continued defending.
The training hall opens at seven o'clock.
The morning training focused on strength training—bench press, squats, pull-ups, and core strength. The provincial sports team's weight room was on the first floor; it was large and filled with equipment. Barbells, dumbbells, bench press racks, squat racks, and resistance bands were all available. A poster on the wall showed a muscular weightlifter holding a barbell, his expression fierce.
Coach Li stood at the door of the weight room, holding a notebook in his hand.
"Today we'll test your maximum bench press and squat. Everyone will be grouped according to their weight, and we'll measure your maximum weight. I need to know your strength levels."
Lin Feng was in the third group.
He watched the people in front of him do bench presses. Sun Hao bench presses 120 kilograms—at 2.05 meters tall with a long arm span, this weight is not easy. Liu Yang bench presses 100 kilograms. Zhang Lei bench presses 90 kilograms.
It was Lin Feng's turn.
He lay on the bench press, gripping the barbell with both hands. The bar was cool and had a metallic smell. He weighed seventy kilograms, and proportionally, his target weight was ninety kilograms—about 1.3 times his body weight.
The first time, 60 kilograms, easy.
The second time, 70 kilograms, not bad.
The third time, 80 kilograms, it was a bit strenuous. My arms were trembling slightly as I pushed it up, and the barbell wobbled in the air.
The fourth time, 90 kilograms.
He took the barbell off the rack, slowly lowered it until it touched his chest. Then he pushed upwards with all his might—the barbell stopped in mid-air, unable to go any higher. He held his breath, tried again, and the barbell went up five centimeters before stopping again.