Not far away, John Amichie, the "English Poet," was doing weighted squats with a barbell on his shoulders. He was so startled by what Chen Yu was doing that he almost dropped the weight.
"Blimey!"
In his shock, the word just slipped out. He turned to the trainer beside him, Buddy Genet. "Buddy, did you see that? His hands are on fire."
Genet was equally dumbfounded. A shiver ran down his spine as he watched Chen Yu's flaming hands repeatedly pat, push, and pull at Tracy McGrady's shoulder.
'That has to hurt like hell!'
"Chen, are you okay?" Tracy McGrady's voice trembled.
'What he really wanted to ask was, *Am I* going to be okay?'
Perhaps because the movements had been so fast, residual flames still flickered on his shoulder.
The faint blue flames danced on his skin, scaring him stiff.
"Relax," Chen Yu prompted. 'These muscles are as hard as a rock; I can barely work on them.'
Tracy McGrady felt like crying. 'How am I supposed to relax in a situation like this?'
