A single dart seals the throat.

Don’t get the wrong idea—Chen Jue was simply intrigued by that rope dart. With so many beautiful young women in the streets, shopping malls, and online, it wasn’t as if he would fall for every one he saw. Yet, as a seasoned LSP, and someone whose favorites folder contained 396 women he wished to spend his life with, he would never make such a reckless, brazen approach.

To go up and force a conversation—that’s not flirting, it’s harassment.

He first stopped at a small stall by the park gate to buy soy milk and a pancake, then wandered among the group of elderly men playing chess to watch. Without asking a single question, he ate his breakfast, ears pricked, listening intently.

Just like the intelligence station formed by the aunties sitting at the village entrance, these chess-playing old men were equally well-informed.

“Old Wu’s granddaughter—since graduating college, she’s become more and more beautiful.”

“My grandson’s useless, went abroad and brought back a foreign doll. Otherwise, I’d really want to become in-laws with Old Wu.”

“Come off it, Liu Er! With those few small two-bedroom apartments you’re dividing up, you want to match with Old Wu? Not in the same league!” As they played chess and chatted, their landlord status was unmistakable.

Within twenty minutes, they had spilled all the details about the grandfather and granddaughter practicing rope dart. The white-haired old man’s surname was Wu—a retired university professor who liked to come to the park to exercise and practice martial arts, with the rope dart as his specialty.

His granddaughter was also a teacher, though she taught high school PE. She had learned martial arts from her grandfather since childhood and competed in various tournaments. At twenty-six, she was pursued by a crowd in the nearby neighborhoods.

Yet, so far, she hadn’t brought a boyfriend home—it was said her standards were high, her taste picky.

Chen Jue glanced at his own appearance, then at the striking, athletic, and shapely young woman. Suddenly, his pancake lost its flavor.

“First, lose weight!”

“Then, get my image in shape. When the time comes, see if fate brings anything.” Chen Jue resolved inwardly.

No way around it—every era values looks.

Right now, Chen Jue had neither money nor charm, just his unremarkable dart-throwing skills, which hardly carried any weight. After so long single, some inferiority had inevitably crept in.

...

Leaving the park, with his latest medical report in hand, he drove to a nearby major hospital to book an appointment with a digestive specialist.

Other minor ailments, like frozen shoulder or lumbar disc issues, could be improved with exercise. As for hemorrhoids and hair loss—one caused by work (those rhymes about “sitting leads to hemorrhoids, nine out of ten men, ten out of ten women”), he knew how common it was and planned to get it surgically dealt with when the time was right.

But he’d heard the surgery was very painful and prone to relapse—a stubborn problem, impossible to cure completely.

Hair loss was even more widespread. The worst part was its many causes, with no universal miracle drug; neither traditional nor Western medicine could do much. Look at the British royal family—all the princes are bald.

As for the handsome, dashing princes in fairy tales—the original model described those wealthy families in the Middle East wearing turbans, not the bald princes of Britain.

They were the world’s top royal houses, with access to every medical resource imaginable—yet they were still bald, incurable. That alone hinted at the complexity.

...

After waiting over an hour, it was finally Chen Jue’s turn.

The specialist was a man in his fifties, a chief physician whose appointment cost three hundred—his skill was exceptional.

He glanced at Chen Jue’s medical report and case analysis, pressed on the upper and right side of Chen Jue’s abdomen, eliciting yelps of pain, and quickly gave conservative treatment advice.

“Appendicitis is usually caused by fecal stones or digestive debris blocking the appendix. Yours is chronic, so if it’s not acting up, you’re fine. But I recommend removing it—if it turns acute, the pain can be severe, even lead to shock.”

“As for these gallstones, they’re a bit trickier! Unlike kidney stones, which can be broken up by ultrasound and slowly expelled through the urinary tract.”

“Because the ureter runs downward, small fragments can flow out. But the gallbladder’s duct goes upward at an angle, and yours is shaped like an N—like a paperclip. Even if the stones are shattered, they stay in the gallbladder, causing severe pain whenever they act up.” The chief physician pointed to an organ diagram on the wall, patiently explaining.

“Doctor, is there any way to remove the stones but keep the gallbladder? I’m still young—I’d rather not have it removed just yet,” Chen Jue asked.

He’d researched the aftermath of gallbladder removal online—so many side effects and complications, he naturally didn’t want to lose it at his age.

“There certainly is!”

“One method is to take a special medicine—tauroursodeoxycholic acid capsules, which can dissolve cholesterol stones. Another is gallbladder-preserving stone removal surgery. Our hospital can do it, but the best technique is at Shanghai Oriental Hospital, which has a dedicated gallstone center, the only one in the country. You can check it out there.”

The chief physician, seeing Chen Jue wasn’t short on money (since he’d booked a specialist), kindly pointed him toward another option.

“Shanghai Oriental Hospital?”

Chen Jue noted the name in his phone, thanked the doctor, and picked up some prescription medicine to try for a while.

...

“Healthcare burns money.”

“A simple appointment and prescription, and two thousand gone,” Chen Jue couldn’t help but complain.

Since the medicine was imported, it wasn’t covered by insurance—he had to buy it at a major pharmacy near the hospital.

But men’s attitudes toward spending are strange.

He’d spend thousands on spa treatments at Jingtanghui, but for health, he’d grumble about spending much less.

After lunch outside, he drove back to the talent apartments, picked up a few parcels from the delivery locker downstairs.

The efficiency in the free-shipping region was astonishing—place an order last night, and it arrived by the next afternoon.

Most importantly, living away from home, Chen Jue had learned many life hacks.

Shopping online, he always chose local shipping—orders arrived within 24 hours, incredibly convenient.

He went upstairs and opened the parcels: two power banks and a set of throwing darts.

He plugged in the power banks to charge, and tried out the new martial arts darts.

They were short sword-shaped, solid stainless steel, with “Flying Rainbow” engraved on the side.

Though not sharpened, they flashed silver in the sunlight—the tip gleamed fiercely, the weight felt substantial, very eye-catching.

“Traditional Chinese darts are still the best.”

“The feel is way better than foreign needle-style darts!” Chen Jue was delighted, feeling the few hundred spent was worth it.

...

He packed them in the pouch from the seller, took a one-hour nap to refresh himself.

Chen Jue then got up and headed to the park nearby to test the darts.

With free time that afternoon, he planned to practice high-difficulty Chinese dart techniques, improve his proficiency and skills.

But before he’d found a suitable spot, he heard adults and children screaming.

He ran over and saw, across the wide lawn, a dog nearly half the size of an adult attacking a little boy.

The dog’s body was rippling with muscle, its color brown-black—whatever the breed, it was clearly aggressive. It clamped the boy’s thigh, spinning in place, growling menacingly, and nothing the adults did could pry it off.

Nearby, a park sanitation worker was swinging a broom at the dog’s head, but even after several hits, the dog didn’t loosen its grip.

“Find something to pry its jaws open!”

“Save the child first!”

“Call the police—quick, get the police here!”

Several elderly exercisers and walkers were frantic—some searching for rocks and sticks, others calling for help.

But when an aggressive dog goes wild, it’s truly terrifying—few ordinary people dared approach.

The child’s cries, the adults’ screams, and the dog’s snarls mingled into chaos.

Just then, a flash of cold light— a rope dart flew from the hand of a striking young woman, hitting the dog hard.

The dog howled in pain, but didn’t let go—in fact, the pain seemed to enrage it, and it bit down even harder.

The rope dart had a conical tip, no blade—meant for martial arts practice, not lethal.

But the young woman wielding it was strong; she struck the dog twice more, and finally the mad dog couldn’t bear the pain, howled and bolted.

But before it got far, a sharp whistling sound—an arrow-shaped dart plunged deep into its neck, blood spraying everywhere.

The dog didn’t get far; it whimpered, collapsed, its throat bubbling, legs twitching before falling still.

“One dart to the throat?”

“Who was that? Such skill!”

The rope dart girl was stunned, looked around, and finally spotted the dart’s owner in the crowd.

It was a chubby young man in sportswear, unremarkable, right hand holding a pouch, left hand gripping another sword-shaped dart.

The two exchanged a glance, nodded to each other.

No words passed between them; the scene was still chaos.

A middle-aged woman, glittering with jewelry, pushed through the crowd, cradling the still-warm dog’s body and cried, “My darling! My darling, are you alright?”

“Why aren’t you moving? Darling!”