The cold joke hadn’t been sent out yet when a series of footsteps approached from far to near, the sound of high heels striking the floor making a steady ‘tap tap’ noise.

Henry Howard didn’t turn around, but the person passing by just then stopped in their tracks.

“Henry Howard, what’s going on with you?!” Chelsea Shaw stood at the stairwell holding an exam paper.

Ever since that incident with Vincent Smith, she had been dissatisfied with Henry Howard. In Chelsea Shaw’s mind, Vincent Smith was Vincent Smith, that time she misjudged someone, but her impression of Henry Howard had never changed—he was, in her eyes, a delinquent with a bad record.

Chelsea Shaw was fuming and continued, “What do you think school is, a place where you can smoke? I turned a blind eye just now in the hallway and didn’t say anything, but don’t you have any self-awareness? Look at yourself, what do you look like?”

She had seen other students hand Henry Howard cigarettes in the hallway, and now, at the stairwell, she vaguely saw something in his mouth. Chelsea Shaw didn’t look closely at all, but instinctively connected the two.

Before Chelsea Shaw could finish, she heard Henry Howard suddenly laugh.

The boy stood up, one hand braced against the wall, tall and thin, pleasing to the eye, his school uniform loose, but you could vaguely see the line of his waist through the movement and the folds of his clothes.

“Self-awareness?” Henry Howard was two heads taller than Chelsea Shaw. He had been facing away from her, but now he walked down a step, turned to look at her, and said, “What do I look like?”

Henry Howard’s tone was sickly sweet, but his words weren’t so pleasant: “Ms. Shaw, is your eyesight not so good?”

Seeing it was candy, Chelsea Shaw fell silent. She avoided Henry Howard, took two steps forward, and tried to go downstairs directly.

Henry Howard blocked her way: “You’re in a hurry, so am I. How about this, apologize.”

“You apologize,” Henry Howard added, “and about last time too, say sorry for both and then you can go.”

Chelsea Shaw looked down on Henry Howard from the bottom of her heart, no way she’d swallow her pride.

Henry Howard smiled and said, “Is it that hard? They say teachers should set an example, but when you do something wrong or say something wrong, you can’t even say three words: I’m sorry?”

Chelsea Shaw stood there without a word.

Over the broadcast, Manager Jensen started enthusiastically announcing the next exam’s instructions: “All teachers, please check the listening equipment. We’ll play a segment of English audio first, adjust the volume.”

Although Henry Howard was smiling on the surface, his eyes were full of hostility, his whole body radiating a sharp and dangerous aura, as if the force he usually kept in check had all been unleashed, sweeping over him.

Chelsea Shaw felt a strong sense of oppression.

Just when she thought Henry Howard was about to explode, the boy suddenly stepped aside, leaned against the wall, and made way for her.

Henry Howard bit down on the candy in his mouth, leaving only the stick.

Chelsea Shaw paused for a few seconds, but still walked past him. When she turned the corner halfway down the stairs, Henry Howard suddenly called out to her again: “Is it because of my bad grades?”

At the stairwell corner, Chelsea Shaw looked up. From her angle, she couldn’t see Henry Howard’s expression clearly.

Henry Howard held the white plastic stick and said again, “Because my grades are bad, so I’m the kind of person you say I am?”

Chelsea Shaw suddenly felt as if a pair of invisible hands were choking her throat. She wanted to speak, but couldn’t get the words out.

The English exam was proctored by Thomas Thompson and the history teacher from the next class.

Henry Howard was ten minutes late.

When he walked in, the whole class could tell something was off about him. Thomas Thompson wanted to stop him and ask why he was late, but Henry Howard didn’t joke around like usual with something like “I was helping an old lady cross the street.” He just stood at the door and said, “If I’m late, am I not allowed to take the test?”

He left Thomas Thompson dumbfounded: “Ah, no, just next time—”

Henry Howard walked right past him to his seat.

“Damn, that’s badass.”

“Bro Henry is in this kind of mood—”

“What’s going on?”

“The test papers have all been handed out, check the listening section, it’s about to start.” Thomas Thompson said as he glanced over at Henry Howard, repeating the correction for the question he’d mentioned when Henry Howard wasn’t there, “Reading section A, question three, there are two identical options, change option C to what’s on the blackboard.”

Ethan Young leaned back a bit: “What’s with the attitude?”

Henry Howard knew he’d lost his cool just now—not only lost his cool, but acted pretty childish. After venting, he felt much better. He scratched his head and said, “It’s nothing, just a trivial thing.”

After he finished, he raised his hand and said to Thomas Thompson, “Teacher, I’ll definitely pay attention next time.”

The mood swing was so fast it was like a tornado.

Thomas Thompson really couldn’t figure this kid out, so he just blankly said “Okay” three times.

Halfway through the exam, Henry Howard had already finished his paper and was about to lay down for a nap. As soon as he rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes, he heard two knocks from below.

He half-opened his eyes, didn’t move: “Hey, kid, what’s up?”

Ethan Young tapped twice more with his finger, making a crisp sound: “Hand, underneath.”

Henry Howard reached under and found a note.

He opened it. There was only a question mark.

?

This was probably the highest level of concern he could expect from his cold-blooded deskmate.

Henry Howard was content.

He felt like he could pick up his pen and write a whole essay about being cared for by the “cold-blooded killer,” filling the entire page. But when he picked up his pen and the tip touched the paper, the ink spread in a blot, and he paused. In the end, he only wrote six words:

—What kind of person am I?

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

30. Chapter Thirty

Sean Parker’s grades were on par with Wanda’s, and for this exam, they were seated front and back again, only the order was switched.

After sitting down according to their exam numbers, the two stared at each other for a while, then exchanged a smile.

Sean Parker: “Bro, you know what’s up.”

Wanda: “I know, I know, let’s work well together.”

After comparing answers, the two started chatting enthusiastically on notes. They hadn’t chatted enough during the Chinese exam, so they continued in the English exam.

Wanna eat together after the exam?

What to eat?

Cafeteria one, what else do you want to eat.

The dishes in the cafeteria are a bit scary today, should we call Bro Henry and the others?

Even if it’s bad, we have no choice. Call them, call everyone, we’ll suffer together.

Sean Bro, by the way, how long have you known Bro Henry?

They were chatting about food when Wanda suddenly changed the subject. Sean Parker opened the note and saw this line, knowing that Wanda’s gossipy heart was like wildfire—impossible to extinguish.

Sean Parker thought about it carefully. He’d known Henry Howard for almost three years.

Back then, the dance game was all the rage, and the streets were full of “non-mainstream” kids. Sean Parker was well-behaved at home, but wild outside, sneaking money to go to internet cafes and having an online romance with a girl who used Martian script.

Most of these unlicensed internet cafes were hidden in residential areas, winding and twisting. After finding the address, you’d slip in, push open a small door, and inside was the world of underage, non-mainstream teens.

Three yuan bought you an hour.

It was fun, but these internet cafes were pretty risky, often getting reported.

If you were unlucky and got caught by the police, they’d call your parents to pick you up. Back then, that was even worse than failing an exam.

Sean Parker still remembered: after paying, he wandered around with his number, looking for machine six. Among a group of kids with bangs covering their eyes, he saw someone sleeping at a computer.

Black and red jersey, very short hair, with a bold letter ‘n’ shaved near the ear, and several cigarette butts piled up in the ashtray.

Just from the back, you could tell this guy was way too laid-back, but also really eye-catching.

Machine five.

Machine six was right next to this cool guy.

Sean Parker sat down carefully. After pressing the power button, he found that his mouse pad was half under the other guy. He tried to sneak it out, but accidentally woke him up.

The headphones on the guy’s head were already about to fall off, and as he looked up, they slipped down completely, hanging around his neck.

“Damn, that face.”

Sean Parker was startled.

The handsome guy didn’t say anything, just started typing after waking up.

On the screen was the popular dance game. Even Sean Parker had gritted his teeth and spent Q-coins on costumes.

For them, a cool outfit was a matter of gaming pride. In the game, everyone called each other “brother” and “sister,” but this guy next to him was wearing the ugliest default outfit, and his username was four characters: “No New Friends.”

It was a rhythm game, but the guy could still find time to open a can of Coke one-handed while playing.