The party atmosphere reached a boiling point, fueled by deafening music and flowing alcohol.
Everyone was celebrating in their own way:
Lip and Kevin were bent over the table, fully engrossed in an intense game of beer pong. Debbie and Ian stood by their sides, cheering them on.
Lip, relying on precise calculation and steady hands, had already sunk two shots in a row. Kevin was hanging on by sheer luck, spewing friendly trash talk the whole time.
Fiona and V leaned against the dining table, beer bottles in hand.
Fiona was animatedly recounting how she made that disgusting restaurant manager eat dirt today, and V was laughing loudly in support.
Carl was weaving through the crowd like a little maniac, imitating pro wrestler moves from TV, occasionally throwing an "elbow drop" at the air.
Finally, in a corner, Karen was clinging tightly to Shane's arm, snuggling up to him as they swayed gently to the music.
Her eyes barely left Shane's profile.
The room temperature was rising due to the crowded bodies and restless energy.
Shane felt a thin layer of sweat on his back. Muttering "It's too fcking hot," he took off his outer shirt, leaving only a fitted tank top.
This action instantly drew a gaze from across the room.
"Whoa!!"
Kevin had just lost a round and was tilting his head back to chug the penalty beer when he caught a glimpse of Shane out of the corner of his eye. He almost choked.
He slammed the bottle down, eyes wide, and walked toward Shane like he'd seen a ghost.
"Hey! Hey! Brother!"
Kevin squeezed Shane's arm and shoulder, his tone full of disbelief.
"What is going on here? Have you been sneaking off to some fancy gym behind our backs? Damn, look at that definition!"
As he spoke, he naturally lifted his own T-shirt and patted his slightly softening belly, complaining:
"Look at me! Haven't worked out much since winter started, and my abs are uniting into one big 'ab-continent'! Plus all this damn Budweiser!"
Seeing Kevin complain, a lightbulb went off in Shane's head. He suddenly knew exactly how to launch his "Fitness Influencer" plan.
Shane smiled at Kevin and said:
"No fancy gym, Kev. I've just been researching some... well... more efficient training methods lately. No heavy equipment needed, you can do it right at home."
Kevin's eyes lit up immediately. "Really? What methods?"
"If you're interested, I can customize a simple plan for you to try out."
Shane threw out the hook. "Plus, I'm planning to shoot some training videos to upload to YouTube. If you don't mind, you could be in them with me, sort of as a record."
Shane knew that in the fitness niche, besides his own transformation, having another person or student train with him and show progress over time was a huge selling point.
Plus, Kevin worked out regularly and had decent genetics. He could be Shane's first offline client and a walking billboard for his fitness influencer career.
"Whoa! YouTube?! You're gonna be a fitness star? That's badass!"
Kevin's booming voice instantly attracted more attention at the party. He slapped his chest excitedly.
"No problem! I got your back, bro! I know all about shooting videos!" (He was obviously referring to his... less public "home videos").
At this point, V walked over with her drink.
She was much more observant than Kevin. She looked Shane up and down with a scrutinizing gaze and raised a friendly doubt:
"Efficient training methods? Sounds good. But, Shane," she tilted her head, blunt as always, "no offense, but you want to be a fitness influencer? Your frame... doesn't look particularly 'shocking.'"
It was true. In the Western fitness circle, gear usage was the norm. Taking a little steroid was barely considered "using." Some gym bathrooms even had designated injection areas.
Shane knew it was time to show his real power.
V's doubt was exactly the stage he needed. He had to show off a bit so his influencer plan wouldn't seem abrupt.
"OK, OK," Shane raised his hands in a gesture that looked like surrender but was actually preparation, a confident smile on his face.
"Guess talk is cheap. I gotta 'prove' it a little today."
Under the curious gazes of the couple, Shane took off his tank top, completely revealing his upper body.
He struck a few casual poses...
"Holy Sht!"
Gasps erupted from Kevin and V.
Under the lights, Shane's physique wasn't the vein-popping monster type, but more like a classical sculpture come to life.
Every muscle was symmetrical, full, and clearly defined, filled with raw yet coordinated power.
Broad shoulders. Chiseled eight-pack abs covering his stomach like armor. Lats spreading like eagle wings.
It was a physique that combined aesthetics and functionality. In the dim party light, it radiated a wild charisma.
"Oh... my... god..." V covered her mouth, her previous doubts vanishing into thin air.
Her hand unconsciously reached out to touch Shane's chest, eliciting gasps of admiration, which made Karen quickly pull Shane back a step.
Kevin was stunned. He circled Shane, muttering:
"Impossible... is this fcking real? Did you find a time machine in the garage, or get bitten by a radioactive spider on super-soldier serum??"
Their exclamations acted like a magnet, drawing every eye at the party. The music was still playing, but conversations died down.
Fiona, Lip, Ian... everyone saw the shirtless Shane.
"Shane?! Is that you?!"
"Did you join the Marines or something?"
"Tsk, looks like someone spent all their homework money on protein powder."
Gasps, whistles, and incredulous questions rose and fell.
Ian saw Shane's body and unconsciously swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing slightly. He looked away somewhat unnaturally, lamenting once again, Why does Shane have to be my brother?
V put away her skepticism, whistled, and gave a professional assessment:
"Alright, I take back what I said. That definition... is that all natural? I think you could be on a magazine cover."
Kevin was the most dramatic. He circled Shane, shouting:
"Brother! No! Coach! You have to teach me! I want to look like that too! That is awesome!"
Feeling the focus of the entire room and Kevin's loud praise, the vanity of a teenager surged in Shane's heart.
The party's fervent atmosphere pushed him to show off.
He walked crisply to the center of the living room, where there was a bit more space.
"OK, since everyone is so interested," he said loudly, "I'll show you what a foundation built on high-efficiency training looks like!"
Shane performed a few high-difficulty calisthenics moves—planche, handstand, one-arm handstand—drawing cheers from the crowd.
Ian watched unblinkingly. Fiona covered her mouth, laughing with pride. Lip crossed his arms, wearing a complex expression that said, "My little brother secretly became a muscle beast."
Shane thought to himself: on a global platform like YouTube, starting from zero without a stable base and initial attention was incredibly hard.
The "family" at the party tonight, especially Kevin and V, would be his best—and cheapest—"living flyers" for his launch.
Just as Shane was posing in the center of the living room, soaking in the attention and cheers...
BANG!
The front door was slammed open.
The cold Chicago winter wind poured in, blowing away some of the room's warmth and noise, and bringing with it a strong stench.
A swaying figure blocked the doorway.
It was Frank Gallagher.
He blearily scanned the "untimely" carnival scene inside, opening his mouth to accuse:
"Well, well, well... What is the meaning of this?! My children! While your long-suffering father is out there 'working himself to the bone' for this family! You! Are throwing a party! Drinking fine wine! And no one! No one thought to notify the pillar of this household?!"