He Chao at least knew a lot of people, and after the Vincent Smith incident, he had somehow gained a bit of prestige in their class. Xavier Young was different—he still had that fearsome reputation, which never seemed to fade.

Sean Parker said, "Yeah, I’ve never seen you smile. Why don’t you smile a bit to show some friendliness? Everyone in our class is trembling with fear."

Xavier Young looked up and, sure enough, saw a few people sneaking glances at him. But when they noticed he was looking their way, they immediately ducked their heads like guilty thieves.

Xavier Young was about to say, then just let them keep trembling, when Henry Howard suddenly chimed in from the side, "Why should my little one smile for you?"

Sean Parker's mind went blank for a second. "Huh?"

Xavier Young's hand paused. He’d been playing that level on his phone just fine, but suddenly the character lost control, fell out of the pipe groove, and the two-thousand-meter obstacle run he’d just completed was all for nothing.

Sean Parker was sure he hadn’t misheard. He wanted to ask, "Bro Henry, are you jealous?" But since Henry Howard often joked around, he couldn’t tell how serious he was, and didn’t want to make things awkward by pushing it, so he just gave a couple of awkward laughs: "Haha, um, look, the sun’s really nice outside, must be hot in the sun."

After he said that, he felt the atmosphere get even more awkward—or more accurately, only he felt awkward. The aura from the two beside him seemed... even more subtle.

In the end, Xavier Young suddenly stood up and did something that fit his fearsome reputation perfectly. He rolled up his sleeves, pointed at Henry Howard, and said, "Get out here."

The whole class of Class 8 shuddered three times.

The bell for class rang just then. Director Jack came looking for Old Thompson, and as they walked out together, they saw the two of them tangled up from a distance at the office door: "What are you two doing? Why are you hugging each other?"

Director Jack's voice echoed down the whole corridor, especially the ambiguous phrase "hugging each other." From Class 1 to Class 8, all the students by the windows poked their heads out to look into the hallway.

Xavier Young still had Henry Howard by the collar, and Henry Howard had one hand lightly resting on Xavier Young's waist.

Everyone: ""

The last class on Friday was Chinese.

After finishing the lesson, Thomas Thompson closed the textbook and reminded them, "That’s all the homework for this weekend. Don’t go crazy as soon as the break starts. Are all the boarders going home this weekend? If you’re staying, come report to me."

Xavier Young spent the whole class sleeping on his desk. Henry Howard, bored, poked his deskmate’s shoulder with a pen: "Are you going home this weekend? Still mad at me?"

"I’m holding back from beating you up, so don’t come looking for trouble," Xavier Young turned his head to look at him.

Henry Howard said again, "You still haven’t answered my question."

"Yeah," Xavier Young said, "It’s my mom’s birthday, so I have to go home this weekend."

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

34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Grace Miller's birthday is the day after tomorrow.

Xavier Young not going home to stay wasn’t because he couldn’t handle it mentally—he just couldn’t bear to leave that whole box of study materials under his dorm bed.

After hearing this, Henry Howard just said, "Oh," and then, out of nowhere, "Happy birthday."

""

Henry Howard clearly wanted to say more, like "Wishing you good health and all the best," but before he could finish, he was ruthlessly cut off.

"Alright, that’s enough, thank you." Xavier Young made a gesture of closing his fingers at Henry Howard, "That’s it."

"That gesture looks just like the meme Sean Parker sent me." Henry Howard imitated it, then spread his fingers again, "Open."

Xavier Young: "Open your head, yeah right."

Thomas Thompson's Chinese homework assignment just now—Henry Howard had no idea what it was.

He sat at his desk goofing off for a while, then patted the shoulder of the classmate in front, borrowed their homework notebook, and copied it all down.

The classmate in front was very confused. Everyone knew Henry Howard basically never did homework, so he bravely asked, "Are you actually going to do the homework?"

Henry Howard copied as he replied, "You never know. Maybe, if fate allows, I might find one of the assignments especially appealing, and when fate comes, nothing can stop it."

That classmate probably had never heard such a serious "let fate decide about homework" theory before—he was amazed.

Henry Howard copied two sets, returned the notebook, and slapped one copy onto Xavier Young's desk: "Take it, you never know, maybe a miracle will happen."

Xavier Young glanced down at the paper, unable to recognize the chicken-scratch handwriting, thinking, If a miracle happens, it’ll be a ghost.

He folded the paper, couldn’t find a place to throw it away, so he just stuffed it in his pocket. Then he heard Henry Howard ask again, "When’s your birthday?"

Xavier Young turned his face away, really annoyed just looking at him. The shadow from earlier in the hallway still lingered. A whole row of heads had poked out of the windows, all staring at them with subtle, dumbfounded expressions.

Wanda even covered his eyes, looking like "see no evil."

He’d never had any weird rumors about him before, but after meeting Henry Howard, he realized the world was full of surprises.

"Boarders staying this weekend, strictly follow the dorm rules." Thomas Thompson found a chair and sat down, looking like he was going to talk with them until school was out. "We have to trust science. I almost forgot about what happened in the dorm last weekend. Wanda, don’t keep your head down. Who would’ve thought you all had such ideas?"

Settling old scores.

Their class’s Mr. Thompson had a really slow reaction time.

Sometimes you’d think he really didn’t care, but just when you let your guard down and thought everything was over, peaceful and calm, Old Thompson would suddenly drag you off for a lecture: "Hey, last month you guys—"

"Would it kill you to just say it?" Henry Howard tilted his head to look at Xavier Young, leaned down to be on the same level, and reached out to touch his hair. "When’s your birthday?"

Xavier Young said, "It would."

Henry Howard didn’t push the question. A few minutes later, the topic shifted from birthday dates to "What year were you born? You must be younger than me."

Xavier Young was especially sensitive to the word "younger" these days, like "little one."

So Xavier Young sat up, face dark, and shot back, "How am I younger? What the hell is little about me?"

They compared birth years, and Henry Howard turned out to be two years older.

"Call me ge," Henry Howard said with a grin, "Told you you’re younger, but you didn’t believe me."

Xavier Young always felt like Henry Howard was setting him up.

Henry Howard leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, front legs of the chair off the ground, looking lazy, all his weight shifted back, the whole person swaying a bit.

Henry Howard looked forward, gaze passing over the back of the classmate in front, landing straight on the blackboard, where a few lines of neat writing were chalked. Thomas Thompson's droning voice in his ear seemed to get farther and farther away.

After a while, Xavier Young heard Henry Howard say offhandedly, "Of course you’re younger than me. I repeated ninth grade."

Xavier Young's first reaction: No wonder no one ever accused Henry Howard of cheating with grades like his in high school.

Back then, Xavier Young's cheating rumors had spread through the whole grade, but nothing ever happened to Henry Howard.

Turns out he repeated a year.

That explained it—a total slacker with terrible grades, repeated a year and got lucky, barely scraping into high school.

Xavier Young looked at Henry Howard's lazy posture, spinning his pen between his fingers.

Henry Howard's desk still had that math test spread out. He’d corrected it, but after copying a couple lines, he’d zone out, and the handwriting was a mess.

Xavier Young was a little curious: "How many years did you repeat?"

"" Henry Howard said, "One year, why?"

Xavier Young: "Nothing, I just thought someone like you would’ve repeated at least three years."

Henry Howard didn’t like the sound of that: "Someone like me? Aren’t you about the same? Second-to-last, can you say that with your grades?"

As they spoke, the bell rang.

Everyone cheered. Wanda even stood on his chair, waving his test paper and shouting, "We’re free—comrades, we’re free!"

Thomas Thompson's speech was cut off. He shook his head, stood up, and gave one last reminder: "Today’s duty students, clean the classroom before you leave."

Xavier Young didn’t have much to pack. Henry Howard was staying at school for the weekend, still sitting in his chair, swaying, even leaning back and waving at him: "Bye, little one."

Xavier Young didn’t say anything. As he passed behind Henry Howard, he lifted his foot and kicked him, crisp and clean: "Say that again if you dare."

Henry Howard instantly lost his balance, almost falling backward with the chair, but reacted quickly and managed to land in the coolest way possible, one hand bracing on the floor: "Damn."

The chair crashed to the ground with a loud "bang."

Wanda waved his test paper for a while, then, on a whim, folded it into a paper airplane, blew on it, and said, "—Go, fly, little bird of freedom."