C6 Why Did It Seem Different??

The driver gave Huang Feng another glance, committing his features to memory before driving out of the company without uttering a word.

Unaware that he had been the topic of conversation for the two individuals who had just passed by, Huang Feng secured the electric gate and resumed his post. Being a security guard, particularly one tasked with ceremonial duties, could be quite dull. He had to stay put; wandering around would only earn him a reprimand from the company's leadership.

Lunchtime approached, and Huang Feng, along with Brother Wang, found themselves eating later than the rest due to their shift responsibilities.

"Time to head out—the relief guards have arrived. Let's hit the cafeteria," Brother Wang announced as he emerged from the duty room. True to his word, Huang Feng spotted two uniformed figures approaching, signaling the shift change.

"Got it," Huang Feng replied.

Following Brother Wang's lead, Huang Feng made his way to the Heaven's Pride Group's cafeteria. It was clear that working here had its perks: the treatment was top-notch, and the food was impressive. The cafeteria itself boasted decent decor and a wide array of dishes at reasonable prices—certainly more affordable than the local eateries. Brother Wang had even mentioned that the company provided monthly food allowances, a benefit that extended to the security staff.

Huang Feng couldn't help but feel fortunate for landing a job at such a reputable company, far surpassing any of his previous employment experiences. He was determined to make a good impression and avoid being dismissed at all costs.

With a hearty appetite fueled by his love for exercise, Huang Feng was grateful for the company's policy of complimentary meals. He selected two dishes and a soup—one meat and one vegetable—ample portions that far exceeded his usual fare of instant noodles.

Since the lunch rush had passed, the cafeteria was sparsely populated, with the occasional group lingering to chat after their meal.

"Enough gawking. Remember what I said this morning—don't go ogling. These women are out of our league. They've got high standards," Brother Wang chided, giving Huang Feng a gentle nudge.

"I get it, Brother Wang. I'm not getting any wild ideas," Huang Feng said. His two years out in the world had stripped him of the naivety he had as a fresh graduate. Now, just a security guard, he knew his place compared to the company's white-collar women, who earned much more than the likes of him. They wouldn't spare a second glance for the guys guarding the doors. And truthfully, Huang Feng hadn't given it much thought either.

After their meal, Brother Wang led Huang Feng to the security office, which was surprisingly spacious and constantly cooled by air conditioning—a welcome relief from their outdoor posts.

Since it was the lunch break, Huang Feng didn't linger in the office. He made up an excuse to step out, and Brother Wang, unconcerned, simply cautioned him not to wander off.

Once outside the building, Huang Feng found a secluded spot to test his speed again, eager to discover whether this morning's burst of swiftness was a fluke or something more. He looked around to ensure he was alone, then took off running. The ease of his stride returned, and his pace quickened. With no one in sight, he let loose, running even faster than he had that morning.

"Wow, it's real. I can actually run this fast?" he panted after coming to a halt. Puzzled, he mused, "But why? Yesterday was completely normal. I didn't feel anything like this during my morning workout. What's changed since then?"

Huang Feng didn't rush back. He took his time, pondering the sudden shift in his abilities. He was no stranger to running; after losing his job a few days prior, he had nothing but time to maintain his morning routine.

Yet, yesterday morning, he hadn't felt this effortless surge of speed. The difference was stark and undeniable.

Meanwhile, Bruce had gathered with his friends, gearing up for their race.

"Bruce, I can't believe you showed up. I was sure you'd chicken out," one of the young men remarked, eyeing Bruce's physique.

"Seriously, Bruce. You're usually too tired to even walk, and now you've set up this lame race? We'd be better off cruising around with a couple of beauties," another chimed in.

"Bruce, are you for real? I thought you were just pulling our legs."

The crowd Bruce had gathered was skeptical. They had assumed Bruce was kidding around. After all, they were heirs to fortunes and political legacies; they'd rather savor the pleasures of life than waste time on some dull footrace. Sure, they were in better shape than Bruce, but most had been hollowed out by indulgent living. The thought of running was exhausting, and such a tedious, wearisome activity was the last thing they wanted to engage in.

"Scared, are we? If you're that scared, I'll give you a head start. I'll run in dress shoes, and you can wear whatever sneakers you like. Don't say I didn't give you a fair shot," Bruce challenged, eyeing the group.

"Scared? With your tubby frame, I could outpace you at a stroll," retorted one of Bruce's rivals, who often mocked him for his size. He was particularly keen on today's race, seeing it as another chance to knock Bruce down a peg.

"Hmph, let's see if you're still talking big after the race. Loser picks up the tab at Di Hao Club!" Bruce declared. He then had his servants fetch his new leather shoes. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing such shoddy footwear for long, so he'd stuck to his regular shoes until now. With the race imminent, it was time for a change.

"Huh, why does this feel off? They're so uncomfortable, and they seem tighter than before." Bruce scowled as he slipped on the shoes. They had been fine yesterday, but overnight, the fit had worsened dramatically. And had the size shrunk?

"Damn swindler, peddling me second-rate goods. You'll answer for this after the race," Bruce seethed, feeling duped. These weren't the quality shoes he was promised; they were clearly defective. How else could they degrade so much overnight?

But he had intended to wear them only briefly for the race, and he had made a bold claim. Backing out now would be tantamount to slapping his own face.