Chapter Twenty-Six: The Guidance of the “Outsider” Wang Lei

“Hurry, it’s hot—freshly stewed winter melon with pork ribs, made by my dad.”

As soon as Wang Lei opened the door, Ma Dongmei squeezed in ahead of him, carrying a large clay pot in her hands.

“Did your mom leave?”

Wang Lei quickly took the pot from Ma Dongmei. Girls, even the likes of Ma Dongmei, are always sensitive to temperature.

Ma Dongmei shot Wang Lei a glance. This shameless fellow was always flirtatious when Li Weihong wasn’t around, though she found herself smiling inside.

“Yeah, she left early this morning. My dad had a class, so he started the stew and left.”

“Heh, did your mom tell you not to come over before she left?”

“I pretended to be asleep, didn’t get up.”

Now that Ma Dongmei was back, Wang Lei didn’t plan on going to the theater every day. The theater was running smoothly now, drawing in crowds and attention, with promising new plays—there shouldn’t be any trouble. Besides, Ma Dongmei wouldn’t be staying home long; the women's volleyball league had resumed, and as the star spiker of the Yangtze River team, her return was eagerly awaited.

This time, Wang Lei didn’t intend to go back with Ma Dongmei. Although he had no plans to enter show business, his current popularity was important. With a stable following, the series of plans he had in mind could proceed without a hitch.

So, for these few days, Wang Lei would accompany Ma Dongmei, and only after matters in the capital were settled would he return to Jinling.

“Mmm, smells amazing. My dad’s cooking is the best—should we just open a restaurant with his secret recipes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Who’s going to do the cooking— you? Besides, we don’t need the money, and it’s all hard work. Lei, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you and earn the money in the future.”

Ah, living off a woman, and so boldly, too.

Wang Lei dipped the ribs in garlic sauce, tearing at them with gusto, while Ma Dongmei watched, practically drooling, only a step away from gnawing on her own fingers.

“Hey, why aren’t you eating?”

“My coach doesn’t allow me to eat pork—says red meat is bad for athletes.”

“That must be the national team coach, right? Doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Don’t listen to that nonsense. Red meat does have more fat, but our bodies need trace elements that can only be found in red meat. Besides, you’re a woman. There are always a few uncomfortable days each month, so women are more prone to anemia than men. Eating some red meat can help improve your strength, mood, and concentration.”

“Oh? And how do you know all this?”

Ma Dongmei was genuinely surprised by Wang Lei’s words. She didn’t know if he was right, but it all sounded very reasonable.

“It’s all a matter of opinion, really. I heard this from a nutritionist when I was training in the US. You’re an athlete, you train hard, and as long as your diet isn’t too unbalanced, it won’t have much of an impact. Actually, it’s worse to avoid certain foods altogether.”

“Hehe, where are the chopsticks? And don’t finish all the garlic sauce, save some for me.”

Spurred on by Wang Lei’s advice, Ma Dongmei’s appetite returned.

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, finishing off the entire pot of stewed winter melon and pork ribs. It had to be said—Ma Pingdong’s culinary skills were indeed superb. The winter melon absorbed the fat from the ribs, making the meat less greasy, and the garlic sauce added a unique flavor. Of course, this was the northern way of eating; southerners might find it a bit rough.

Wang Lei lounged on the sofa like a lord, accepting the tea Ma Dongmei handed him. A life like this—truly too peaceful to be real.

“Meimei, has your right elbow been bothering you lately? Sometimes you feel a dull ache, don’t you?”

Wang Lei voiced the strange feeling he’d had after spending time with Ma Dongmei these past two days.

“Oh? When did you become a doctor, planning to open an herbal shop as well?”

“Don’t change the subject, I’m being serious.”

Seeing Wang Lei’s earnest expression, Ma Dongmei composed herself.

“Yes, I have felt a bit of that since the finals. Is there something wrong?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know. It’s just that you seem to tuck your right elbow in whenever you’re holding something.”

After this period of life, Wang Lei felt his body had undergone some subtle changes. At first, he could sense these changes, allowing him to fine-tune his training and diet.

It was a useful adjustment—his muscles were coming back, and he felt more energetic overall.

However, since Ma Dongmei returned, Wang Lei noticed something new. He could faintly sense some hidden injuries on her body.

Though the sensation was vague, Wang Lei felt he should warn her.

The fusion of two souls is a truly mysterious thing. Wang Lei’s new ability was a kind of heightened perception. Just as he could immediately grasp someone’s defining traits after meeting them—like with Old Zhang—over time, he could even form a hazy impression of their physical condition.

Though he couldn’t quantify everything like in a video game, Wang Lei’s ability was strong enough that, if he wished, he might well become a world-renowned physician.

“Your right elbow probably has some hidden injuries from repeatedly spiking the ball with the same motion. I think you should adjust your technique in training—raise your elbow outwards a bit. It might help.”

Ma Dongmei tried to keep a straight face as Wang Lei spoke so seriously, but she couldn’t help but smile. First, because she was happy that Wang Lei cared so much, and second, because he was something of an “outsider,” speaking with such certainty and gravity that it was hard not to laugh.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious! When you’re back in Jinling, mention it to your club and get a thorough checkup. Don’t underestimate these little injuries—they can really affect your career. You don’t want to end up with nagging aches and pains after you retire, do you? I don’t want to be the one always holding the baby while the mother’s complaining about this ache or that pain.”

Ma Dongmei playfully slapped Wang Lei on the shoulder—there he went again, flirting.

“All right, all right, I’ll definitely tell Old Yan when I get back. You know, Lei, you look really handsome when you’re serious—handsomer than my dad even. But when you’re being a flirt, you really do act like a rascal.”

“Heh, this rascal’s in the mood to bully someone again. Come here, let me bully you a little.”