That overwhelming sweetness was starting to get to him.
Chewing on leftover salty pickles from yesterday to balance it out, Xu Bin stared at the massive spinning wheel in his mind. The Attribute Wheel was a swirling mess of tiny multicolored segments. At first glance, it was impossible to read what any of them said—just a blur of text and color.
It was his first time spinning the Attribute Wheel, and with the mission complete, he figured—Screw it. Let's go.
"Start."
The wheel spun rapidly, turning his vision into a whirl of colors. Gradually, the speed slowed, and the segments became just barely legible. Some were big—about the width of a palm. Some were tiny—so small the pointer would barely land on them.
"Congratulations, Host has acquired: +10kg Strength Attribute."
"New weekly mission issued: Refurbish 4 refrigerators. Reward: 1 Attribute Wheel Spin. Task may be completed early and is repeatable. Failure within Earth-week triggers a Negative Wheel spin."
Bittersweet.
Heaven and hell, all in one spin. When Xu Bin saw the needle land, he realized just how close he'd come to something better. On one side: "+3 minutes to performance." On the other: "+1cm to height." Either of those would've been preferable to a vague "+10kg Strength." And just one slot further… was "Improved Vision."
That one really hurt. Years of gaming, novel reading, and repair work had left him slightly nearsighted. He didn't need glasses yet, but still—it would've been nice.
"Damn it. Why's luck always like this?"
Still, the good news was: new mission unlocked. Refrigerators were a better market than TVs, and he already had two old units in his shop. Halfway there. Another spin awaited him.
Xu Bin's mixed emotions didn't last long. Within minutes, his goofy grin returned. Ten kilograms of added strength? That was legit! He could barely lift a 25kg bag of rice before. Even moving washing machines was tough.
Now? Effortless.
No one's ever complained about getting stronger. He even tested it by carrying out an old white refrigerator that had been rusting on his balcony. Though drenched in sweat, he didn't feel tired—only pumped.
From noon till now, he'd been riding a high. Sugar-fueled and thrilled out of his mind. Eventually, his throat started to feel dry and scratchy.
He rushed to the market to buy packs of spicy beef tendon snacks, guzzled two bottles of mineral water, and finally felt somewhat normal again. This cheat system was awesome, but too much was physically taxing. His body had its limits.
Online research told him that sodas, beer, instant noodles, juices, yogurt, nuts, and fried foods—all counted as high-calorie sources. As he leaned back in his chair, scrolling, Xu Bin sighed happily.
"Being born on Earth is such a blessing."
With this system, he was certain he'd live up to his name—Shuangquan (which literally means "Double Excellence")—in both brains and brawn. His parents would be proud.
His heat storage had also upgraded with the new mission: now 0/4. He figured that must be the amount needed to refurbish a refrigerator.
Evening arrived. Time for dinner.
Xu Bin locked up and strolled leisurely through the market—something he would've never done before. Back then, he'd stay holed up in his shop, gaming or reading novels. He had no money, no confidence, and avoided crowds.
But now? He felt great. There was cash in his pocket and strength in his stride.
He picked a skewer-and-mala shop, ate until he hit 4/4 heat, then spent over 100 yuan at the nut shop. Loaded up on cola, yogurt, beef snacks, jerky, and instant noodles. He even took a longer route home—just to avoid walking past Uncle Ma's supermarket.
No way he'd explain why broke-boy Xiao Xu suddenly turned into a snack-buying king overnight.
He was just about to refurbish a two-door fridge—the kind common in most households—when his cheap touchscreen phone blared to life with its obnoxiously loud ringtone.
"Hello? Yes, this is Shuangquan Repairs. A fridge? What's the issue? Not cooling? Got it. Give me the address. I'll head over. Service call is 20 yuan, parts extra. If you choose not to repair, there's a 5 yuan inspection fee..."
He chuckled, "Five yuan isn't much these days. In this heat, even bottled water costs 3 yuan. I'll just take plain water, really... Okay. Yajing Community? I'll be there in 30 minutes. If I get lost, I'll call."
Persuasive. Slick. Slightly deceptive. All essential skills for surviving in society. Xu Bin always admired talkers like Feng Xiaogang and Wang Shuo. He aspired to be just like them—silver-tongued and sharp-witted.
That 5 yuan inspection fee might seem small, but for someone scraping by, it mattered. Appliance repair had low margins. If someone refused to fix it after diagnosis, he wasted his time and effort.
He packed a canvas bag with standard repair tools, tossed a gas-compatible welding torch in a plastic hard case, and prepped to leave. That torch was essential for refrigerator repairs—injecting refrigerant, checking compressors, opening sealed circuits—it did it all.
Then he remembered: his rusty mountain bike was still back at the complex where he'd posted flyers. Facepalm.
He borrowed Uncle Ma's son's bike and pedaled furiously to the customer's place.
The building was old. No property management. Maybe ten years since construction. The apartment was modest, clearly a working-class household. A little girl inside was whining about the fridge being broken and not having cold drinks.
Reading the room—another must-have skill. The condition of the home and the people told you how much you could charge. Sometimes a small profit was better than none. But go too low, and it felt like a loss. That's where salesmanship came in.
Xu Bin was good at this. His old mentor even brought him along on house calls to negotiate prices—he often managed to charge more.
That said, he wasn't that into it today. His future didn't lie in repairs. The call earlier was reflex. Mid-bike ride, he was already regretting it.
Why am I doing this? I have a freaking system now. I eat, drink, and turn junk into gold. What am I doing crawling on floors for change?
Still, he'd come this far. Xu Bin crouched with the man of the house and slid the fridge away from the wall.
To most people, a fridge only has two problems—either it doesn't cool, or the light's out. Xu Bin pressed his ear to the side. The cooling system was completely dead, even though power was flowing. That meant: compressor.
These days, even the screws on high-end fridges required special tools. Phillips and flatheads were becoming relics.
Xu Bin removed the compressor's power box, unplugged the starter, and replaced it with a compatible spare from his bag. Plugged it back in. Nothing. Still dead.
That confirmed it.
He straightened up and said, "It's the compressor. See? I replaced the starter and there's still zero response. If the compressor doesn't run, the fridge can't cool. Touch it—no vibration, no sound."
"How much to fix?" the man asked, frowning.
"Well… this brand's compressor is hard to find now. Around 400 yuan."
"Four hundred?!" the woman shrieked. "We could almost buy a new one for that!"
Xu Bin's voice hardened. "You're free to call someone else to double-check. If I'm wrong, I'll waive the fee entirely." He didn't even look up as he reassembled the parts, screwing the back panel back on with cool indifference.
"Mom, Dad," the little girl whined, "Can we get a new one tomorrow? It's so hot, and we don't have ice water or popsicles…"
Her complaints gave Xu Bin an opening.
"Well?" he asked. "You want to repair it or not?"
"What's the point? It's practically scrap," the man muttered.
Xu Bin could tell—they couldn't afford a new one easily.
"Yeah, 400 is steep. But a factory-refurbished fridge? I know a guy. Basically new. Whole thing—500 tops. And that includes a brand-new compressor."
"You call that 'new'?" the woman scoffed.
"Come take a look yourself," Xu Bin grinned. "Looks brand new. Works like a charm. All parts visible. Better than pouring 400 yuan into this one. I'll even buy yours for 100. I'll swap in a secondhand compressor later for personal use. Think I'm lying? I'll take this thing apart in front of you—show you the burned-out coils."
He spun tales for a solid half hour, as the couple wavered. The daughter's whining helped. Most folks preferred new over refurbished, but Xu Bin pitched the cost-performance angle hard.
He never claimed the fridge was actually new—just refurbished "to new standards." And honestly, even if they looked inside, they wouldn't find a single fault.
In the end, they agreed to come back to his shop to "have a look."
Xu Bin stepped outside and let out a long breath.
"Phew..."
Mouth dry. Tongue sore. He was exhausted—but damn, he'd sold it. As long as they came to the shop, the deal was as good as done.
After all, the fridge wasn't refurbished—it was 100% brand new.