Lao Lei‘s Iron Lumps and Gasps for Breath

Lao Lei, Lei Zhendong – quite a resonant name. But this past month, he felt more stifled than a sealed gourd. The little things at the company snowballed from sesame seeds to watermelons, then to winter melons, crushing him till he could barely breathe. The numbers on the reports were like rows of baring-fanged imps, constantly invading his dreams at night. People nicknamed him "the second Lei-Jobs," but the taste of being "second" now was nothing but bitter Coptis root. He himself grumbled, "This past month, damn it, has truly been the toughest time since I started the business!"

Tough as it was, life had to go on, right? Today, for a change, Lao Lei didn't dive headfirst into the office but turned into the newly opened "Power & Beauty" gym. It wasn't to sculpt an eight-pack for a magazine cover; he just felt that if he didn't find a place to sweat it out, the fire in his heart would blow the top of his head off.

The gym was bustling with activity. The music thumped, making hearts race; the air was a mix of sweat, disinfectant, and an indescribable restlessness of hormones. Lao Lei changed into a brand-new tracksuit – a gift from his wife, who said it made him look sharp. But looking at himself in the mirror, he felt like a freshly plucked chicken ready for the pot – shriveled, and with a touch of comical tragedy.

He started by mimicking others, jogging on a treadmill. The belt whirred, and Lao Lei's legs moved mechanically along with it. But his mind wasn't idle: one moment it was the A-round funding gap, the next the technical bottleneck in product line B, then what mischief that bastard Old Wang was up to behind his back. After ten minutes, he hadn't sweated much, but his heart was pounding as if it would leap out of his chest. He gave a wry smile; this wasn't a workout, it was just a change of venue for his suffering.

On the treadmill next to him was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, with a bean-sprout figure but heavy makeup. She was jogging while taking selfies with her phone, muttering, "Hey babes, another energetic day! Look at me, sweating it out to meet a better version of myself!" Lao Lei glanced over, thinking to himself: With those skinny arms and legs, no amount of sweating will turn you into Popeye. But then again, maybe she was just doing it for fun, looking for an excuse to show off on her Moments feed. In this world, who doesn't live with a bit of vanity?

The weight machine area was even more bizarre. A burly man, built like a stout monk, was red-faced, bench-pressing a mountain-like barbell, letting out guttural "Heh! Heh!" grunts, as if he weren't lifting weights but wrestling a mortal enemy. Nearby, a lad as skinny as a monkey, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and looking quite refined, was, under the trainer's shouts, pulling with all his might on a machine far too large for his frame, his face contorted in pain as if he'd been constipated for a fortnight. Lao Lei watched them, a chill creeping into his heart: these people, struggling with these lumps of iron, what was it all for? For health? For looks? Or simply because everyone else was doing it?

A trainer in a tight tank top, his muscles well-defined, sidled up with a professional smile. "Bro, new here? Looking at your build, you probably don't exercise much. We have gold-medal personal training sessions, targeted workouts, guaranteed to transform you in a month!"

Lao Lei waved his hand, a bit awkwardly, "I... I'm just casually working out, to break a sweat."

The trainer remained enthusiastic. "Bro, exercise needs to be scientific. If you train blindly like this, you can easily get injured, and you won't see results. Our trainers are all professionals; they can help you plan..."

Lao Lei felt annoyed; this spiel was so similar to the sales pitches his own staff used. He patiently said, "Thanks, I'll figure it out myself first," and then practically fled.

He went to a chest press machine, sat down, and mimicked the burly man from before, pushing hard a few times. The iron plates were cold and heavy, making his chest feel tight. He thought of the unsolvable problems at the company, the late nights spent on PowerPoint presentations, the forced smiles at dinner parties, the so-called success that looked glamorous but felt like walking on thin ice. Weren't all these things, like these iron lumps, weighing heavily on his heart, making it hard to breathe?

He suddenly recalled the onlookers in Lu Xun's writings – numb, bored, yet keen to spectate. Weren't the people in this gym also a crowd of modern-day onlookers? Watching others work out, and being watched while working out, using sweat and strength to stage dramas about "health," "self-discipline," and "positivity." But beneath the stage, real life was still a mess of chicken feathers.

Lao Lei gave a hard push, and the iron plates clanged down, making his arm tingle. He stood up, feeling even more tired. He looked around: the contorted faces, the bulging muscles, the flashing screens, the noisy music – they formed an absurd yet real picture. He suddenly felt like one of Kafka's clerks, trapped in a huge, invisible machine, repeating meaningless actions day after day.

He didn't touch any more equipment, silently walked into the locker room, and took a shower. The gushing water washed over his body but couldn't wash away the heaviness and confusion in his heart. He changed back into his clothes; his designer suit now felt like a borrowed costume, utterly out of place on him.

Walking out of the gym, the sunlight outside was a bit dazzling. People on the street hurried along with various expressions, all bustling for their own lives. Lao Lei took a deep breath. The air was still murky, but it seemed a bit more bearable than the stuffy atmosphere in the gym.

"The toughest month..." he muttered to himself. Perhaps the real iron lumps weren't in the gym, but in everyone's heart. And these gasps for breath were not just the fatigue after exercise, but the heavy breathing of life itself.

He took out his phone, habitually wanting to post on his Moments: "Checked in today," with a sunny emoji. His finger hovered over the screen for a long moment, but he eventually locked it and put the phone back in his pocket.

Some things, after all, are just for show. And some bitterness can only be chewed and swallowed by oneself. Thinking this, Lao Lei stepped forward and merged into the vast sea of people. The road ahead is still long, isn't it?