Ethan Young and Henry Howard stood face to face in their original positions—at some point, this guy had put his mask back on, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Once everyone was in place, the police officer dropped a bombshell that left them all shell-shocked: “Our police station practices the education of love. Based on the principle of love, we take some targeted measures for kids like you who get into fights. For example, shaking hands, hugging, and saying ‘I love you, my friend’ to each other, so you can truly understand the meaning of a harmonious society. Kids, the world is beautiful, and the world is full of love.”

Ethan Young: “”

Henry Howard: “”

Ray Jones: “?!” Are the police in this district insane?

7 p.m.

Ethan Young sat in a Lanzhou noodle shop, looking at his phone while waiting for Ray Jones to finish his second bowl of noodles.

“Seriously, I’ll never dare get into a fight in this district again,” Ray Jones said, peeling apart the scallions and garlic with his chopsticks, shoveling noodles into his mouth, mumbling, “Scared the hell out of me.”

Ethan Young put down his phone: “Finish eating before you talk.”

Ray Jones swallowed his food whole, not even afraid of burning himself: “I, Lei, have been roaming the streets for sixteen years, and this is the first time I’ve encountered something like this—‘I love you, my friend’? Can’t you give a street kid a way to survive?”

The street kid eating noodles grew more and more miserable as he spoke, and in the end, all his feelings condensed into one sentence: “I don’t submit to anyone, but I have to hand it to that shameless guy in the station just now. How could he be so skilled at it?”

Hearing about a certain shameless person, Ethan Young’s face turned a little green.

Of everyone, Henry Howard was the one with the least psychological burden—and also the fastest to act.

He very naturally grabbed Ethan Young’s hand, sincerely put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him, reciting “I love you, my friend” with fullness and emotion, looking just like a pair of long-lost brothers.

Night had fallen, and a sudden breeze in the evening brought some relief to the sultry heat.

“Actually, about that purple weapon today, it’s really not about the game gear,” Ray Jones’s voice suddenly dropped. He put down his chopsticks and said, “You know, I’m not good at studying. Those textbooks just give me a headache, all that useless crap. My parents’ barbecue stall doesn’t look like much, but it’s actually exhausting work. But what else can I do? All I know is how to play games, and I’m pretty good at it, right? Selling game gear to Boss Young, do you think I could ever become a professional esports player?”

Ethan Young didn’t say anything, just listened quietly.

“Forget it, I’m just talking. No matter how good you are at games, it’s not a real job.” Ray Jones pulled a napkin from the side, wiped his mouth, then stood up. “Let’s go, it’s getting late, time to head back. Did you tell your mom you were coming out this time? She’ll be worried again.”

Ray Jones was usually a pretty carefree guy. To strangers, he looked like a typical slacker who didn’t care about school.

Back in vocational school, he’d dated a girl he liked. She was going through her rebellious phase and thought dating a streetwise guy was the coolest thing ever. But once that phase passed, she started picking on everything about him, saying she must have been blind back then.

But the Ray Jones that Ethan Young knew wasn’t like that.

“Lei.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like playing games?”

“Of course.”

“How do you rate your own skills?”

Ray Jones just thought Ethan Young was messing around and casually replied, “I’m awesome, okay?”

But after walking quite a distance, Ray Jones realized Ethan Young hadn’t caught up.

He turned around, about to shout, “What are you doing, are you coming or not? We’ll miss the bus,” when he heard his good buddy, standing ten meters away, say to him, “I think you can do it.”

Ray Jones was stunned.

Ethan Young smiled and said, “You’re awesome.”

------------

9. Chapter Nine

When Ethan Young got home, the lights in the living room were still on. Annie had been following him ever since he walked in. Halfway down the hall, Ethan Young stopped: “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Annie glanced at the living room without changing her expression, then whispered, “Madam has been in a bad mood all afternoon and barely ate dinner. She’s really upset this time, Second Young Master, when you go in, make sure you don’t talk back to her.”

Grace Miller was watching TV in the living room. On the surface, everything looked normal, but just by looking at the back of her head, Ethan Young knew tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

The TV was playing a melodramatic family soap opera, with terrible acting and mind-boggling plotlines. The male lead contorted his face in pain: “I love you, but I also love her. I really don’t know what to do. You and she are both important women in my life.”

Ethan Young walked over. “Mom.”

Grace Miller didn’t say anything.

The only response was the male lead’s increasingly ridiculous lines.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan Young endured the brainless TV show and took the initiative to admit his mistake, bowing his head. “I shouldn’t have left without saying anything this morning.”

“You shouldn’t have left without a word,” Grace Miller turned off the TV and slapped the remote onto the glass coffee table with a bang. “What, were you planning to just walk out like it was nothing? Ethan Young, haven’t I told you that I want you to stay home and behave during this break? Don’t go to all those messy places. Your most important task right now is to study.”

“Mom, I think I have the right to choose how to spend my vacation.”

Grace Miller’s voice sharpened: “—What right do you have? Talk to me about rights when you’re independent. I didn’t raise you so you could idle around and waste your life, always running out. Have you ever thought about your future? You’re still young, you can’t see it yet, so I’ll think for you. You don’t have enough self-discipline, so I work hard to supervise you. In the end, is it still my fault?”

Ethan Young was silent.

Grace Miller took a breath, sat down, her hands trembling as she reached for the glass of water on the table, then said, “Maybe you blame me now, but you’ll understand in the future. Everything I do is for you.”

“I know,” Ethan Young said. “I know what I’m doing. Just wait and see if I get into Tsinghua or Peking University after the college entrance exam.”

“You always use that line to shut me up. What do you know? If you really knew what you were doing, your grades wouldn’t be like this. Tsinghua and Peking University? You’re dreaming.” Grace Miller felt a tightness in her chest.

Ever since she awkwardly saw Mr. Harper off that morning, her emotions had been all over the place. Now Ethan Young was standing in front of her, calm and unyielding, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong, and all her feelings surged up at once: “Who taught you to be like this? Ray Jones? Yvonne Shaw? —You want to be like those people from Heishui Street too?!”

“”

Ethan Young had originally planned to admit his mistake and gently coax Ms. Miller to calm her down. After all, he really was in the wrong today—if she wanted him to do tutoring during the break, so be it.

But when he heard her last sentence, he suddenly looked up, speaking slowly but with a cold, piercing gaze: “Those people, who are those people?”

Grace Miller realized she’d misspoken as soon as she finished.

But she was still angry and couldn’t back down.

The two of them faced off in silence.

“There’s food in the kitchen. If you’re hungry, go eat.” Grace Miller’s tone softened, a deep sense of helplessness washing over her.

Ethan Young had a stubborn personality, and most of the time she really didn’t know how to teach him.

She’d raised him alone, and the father’s role missing from Ethan Young’s upbringing was something she couldn’t fill, no matter how hard she tried.

No one had ever taught her how to raise a teenager with a rebellious streak. He was no longer the soft little boy who used to snuggle in her arms, no longer begged her to go out and play, no longer bounced along the road and stopped to look for her if she fell behind.

Now he had his own pace, as if leaving her behind. They spoke less and less, and she no longer knew what he was thinking. In the boy’s increasingly evasive eyes, a world was forming that she couldn’t understand.

After Grace Miller went upstairs, Ethan Young went to the kitchen to pour some water and saw, neatly covered with a bowl, a plate of tomato and scrambled eggs. The eggs were golden yellow, sprinkled with chopped scallions.

Made by Ms. Miller herself.

He didn’t even need to taste it to know.

Ethan Young suddenly felt that what he’d done today was pretty rotten.

Night deepened, and the big house grew quiet again.