Zhou Dalei once analyzed while smoking, “Actually, maybe, I have a bold guess. Do you think Belle might have fallen in love with some middle-aged lady? Maybe someone from our neighborhood committee, but he’s embarrassed, afraid we’ll judge him with worldly eyes—damn, this question is way too out of scope. But if not, then it just doesn’t make sense, there weren’t any young girls in the audience at all.”

Ethan Young didn’t go into that much detail. Henry Howard listened to the gist and nodded, “Oh, stage effect, huh.”

The emotion in his tone was too obvious, so Ethan Young said, “You sound pretty disappointed.”

Henry Howard replied, “Yeah, a little.”

As soon as Chelsea Shaw announced the meeting was over, everyone quickly packed up and headed out.

A few boys had been goofing around at the door of Class 3 for a while. At this moment, they finally opened the window, leaned out, and shouted, “—Bro Henry, let’s go play basketball.”

Overall, Henry Howard was pretty popular.

He was the type who easily made friends, even though his reputation as a big shot was well-known. Back in the original first-year class, he had a bunch of close guy friends, and they often played basketball or went to internet cafes together.

Sean Parker was among them. When Chelsea Shaw left the room, she shot him a cold look. Sean Parker was about to say, “Let’s go play basketball together,” but at the last second, he smartly and awkwardly changed it to, “—I’m not playing, I’ll just watch you guys. My stomach still hurts a bit.”

Henry Howard seemed to be in a good mood, leaning back in his seat and waving at them, “Let’s go, see you on the court.”

After saying that, he lowered his head and pulled a mask out of his pocket, about to put it on his face. Suddenly, as if he remembered something, he paused and casually asked, “Want to play basketball together?”

Ethan Young got up and walked out, “No.”

Henry Howard shrugged and didn’t say anything.

When Ethan Young reached the door, Henry Howard suddenly called his name from behind, “Ethan Young?”

Ethan Young turned around, leaning against the door, his face practically saying “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out” and “You’re really annoying.”

Henry Howard had already put on his mask, “Nothing, just getting familiar with my new deskmate’s name.”

“”

Henry Howard added, “Let’s look out for each other from now on, deskmate.”

Grace Miller called Ethan Young at six in the evening.

“Have you had dinner? Did you meet your teachers and classmates today?” Grace Miller asked, “How’s your deskmate?”

Ethan Young used to have a deskmate in first year, but as his reputation got worse, the teacher took special measures and made him sit alone. Grace Miller must have heard from someone that he had a deskmate again in second year, so she hurried to call and ask.

Ethan Young thought: Not great.

But to avoid trouble, Ethan Young casually said, “He’s alright, sunny, cheerful, loves sports, just not very good at studying.”

Grace Miller had no idea why her son, who always ranked at the bottom of every exam, could so naturally complain about his new deskmate’s poor grades.

She nagged him a bit more, basically telling him not to cause trouble and to study hard. Ethan Young responded blandly, only saying “Mm” and nothing else.

“Then I won’t keep you,” Grace Miller said, “Think things over for yourself. I can’t control you anymore. You’re almost an adult, so don’t be so impulsive.”

Ethan Young said, “Mm, you should rest early.”

Ethan Young didn’t cause any trouble, but his sunny, cheerful, sports-loving deskmate made a huge mess on the very first day of school.

Couldn’t help being mischievous.

Went to play basketball and ended up beating up a top student, a boy who won the “Three Good Student” award every year.

Chelsea Shaw came out of the director’s office. She hadn’t been scolded like that in a long time. The higher-ups were furious—something like this happening on the first day of school—and questioned her about how she managed her class and students. She stood there with her head down, getting lectured for ages. Whether it was anger or embarrassment, her face kept turning red and pale. When she got back to the office, she slammed her lesson plan on the desk.

The other teachers were startled by the noise and looked up at her. Seeing Ms. Shaw’s terrible expression, no one dared to ask what had happened.

Luke Carter happened to come by to hand in a parent-signed notice. Chelsea Shaw was so angry her face was expressionless, and her voice was icy: “Is Henry Howard in the classroom? Go get him.”

Luke Carter was actually pretty scared. Even though everyone said West Building’s Ethan Young was scarier—aloof and solitary—while the one in the East Building was more down-to-earth and fun,

he was even more afraid of Henry Howard.

He’d seen Henry Howard fight with his own eyes.

That was back in first year. In the middle of class, he suddenly had a stomachache, raised his hand to ask to go to the bathroom, grabbed some tissues, and ran out. When he got there, he saw a “Under Maintenance” sign at the bathroom door.

He was about to go to the next floor when he heard someone inside crying and begging, “I’m sorry, please don’t hit me, I’m sorry—”

Luke Carter paused, put one foot inside, and cautiously peeked in.

Henry Howard was holding a cigarette between two fingers, standing in front of a boy kneeling on the floor.

Even though Henry Howard was wearing his school uniform properly, the word “proper” had nothing to do with him. Henry Howard narrowed his eyes, exhaled a puff of smoke, and when he wasn’t smiling, he seemed cold to the bone, with a kind of wildness barely held in check.

—Completely different from his usual joking, laughing self.

He flicked the ash, his eyes full of gloom, then squatted down and grabbed the boy’s hair, forcing him to look up: “You’ve got guts, huh?”

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14. Chapter Fourteen

Class 3, Grade 2 had a private group chat.

Almost every class had a private group, meant to keep out teachers and allow free speech. In the main group, all the subject teachers were present, so some things couldn’t be said. If you had a teacher who got along well with students, it was fine, but with someone like Chelsea Shaw, a menopausal woman who was always stern and dignified, you could tell at a glance there was a serious generation gap.

But this class’s private group was a bit special.

Not only did they have to guard against teachers, they also had to watch out for two special figures who ruled the school.

[Anonymous a]: Heard Henry Howard beat up Vincent Smith?

[Anonymous b]: I have a friend in Vincent Smith’s class. They said he got beaten up really badly, still lying in the hospital.

[Anonymous c]: That Vincent Smith from Class 8?

The group chat kept buzzing. Luke Carter stared at the name “Vincent Smith”, and the memory of that scene that once scared him to death gradually overlapped with this name.

“Please don’t hit me, I’m sorry—”

Henry Howard grabbed the boy’s hair and said softly, “Didn’t I warn you? Didn’t I fucking warn you?”

Vincent Smith was kneeling on the floor. He was very skinny, his face covered in acne, looking pitted and rough. The bathroom tiles weren’t clean, with puddles of water here and there. He cried, “Please let me go.”

When Luke Carter went to call Henry Howard to the teacher’s office, Sean Parker happened to be visiting from another class. He brought his own chair and sat next to Henry Howard, not at all acting like an “outsider”: “Hey, the one by the window, could you pull the curtain?”

Henry Howard said, “Who are you ordering around? Do it yourself.”

Sean Parker got up, pulled the curtain, and sat back down. His next class was PE, so he was bored. Seeing Henry Howard glued to his phone, he got curious, “Bro Henry, what are you playing?”

Henry Howard ignored him and leaned over to Ethan Young, showing him his phone screen, “Expert, help me out again?”

Ethan Young gave him two words: “Get lost.”

“”

Sean Parker was dying of curiosity, “Let me see, come on, I’ll help you.”

“Get lost,” Henry Howard said, “Go chill in your own class.”

Sean Parker was persistent and finally managed to sneak a peek. On a pink interface, a long-haired cartoon girl in a white set of underwear was standing by a wardrobe, blinking.

Sean Parker was shocked and stammered, “Is that, is that—”

“That dress-up game all the elementary and middle school girls are obsessed with,” Ethan Young said calmly.

Henry Howard played the game for the whole class period, and Ethan Young was pestered by him the whole time.

Every time Henry Howard confidently finished an outfit, the score was disappointing. He tried the same level many times, and finally tossed the phone in front of Ethan Young, “Deskmate, help me out?”

Picking outfits was like playing cards—maybe you needed some luck. Ethan Young was so annoyed he just tapped a few items at random, “Are you an idiot, playing this kind of game? ID: Soft Little Cutie? You’re really into it, huh.”

After Ethan Young randomly picked, the score turned out surprisingly high.