"Trash Bro!" The people eating at the next table stopped eating, all stood up and applauded in welcome. "Late again, you have to chug these seven bottles! We've been saving them for you for a long time, you can't refuse to drink."

That person was also wearing the Electrotechnical Institute's school uniform, a loose tracksuit draped over his body. Although he was tall, his appearance was ordinary—if thrown into a crowd, you wouldn't recognize him. The only distinctive feature was the scar at his temple, stretching from his hairline all the way to the end of his eyebrow.

"Trash Bro," Sean Parker didn't dare look up and said in a low voice, "Is he the one from Electrotechnical who stabbed someone with a knife?"

Sean Parker didn't look up, so he didn't see the unnatural expression on Henry Howard's face, nor the hand that was about to pick up food suddenly freeze, and finally, he simply put his chopsticks down on the table and stopped eating.

Sean Parker kept muttering, "I think I heard Wanda mention this guy when talking about the top ten figures in Electrotechnical. He's pretty fierce. It's said he has over seventy underlings. When others fight, he just sits on a trash can lid and watches, so people call him Trash Bro."

Before Sean Parker finished speaking, he realized that this "one of the top ten figures in Electrotechnical" was standing right next to him, not moving. He immediately froze, and could only sneak a glance downward through the gap supported by his wrist and elbow, and saw a pair of Nike sneakers: ""

Sean Parker wondered if he had spoken too loudly and been overheard, and started to consider the three of them on their side—whether, with Bro Henry and Big Ethan's fighting power, they could handle it.

He was still calculating their fighting strength when he heard Trash Bro call out, "Henry Howard?"

Ethan Young came back after paying the bill and saw this scene.

The person in the Electrotechnical uniform, whoever he was, held a bottle of beer, stood opposite Henry Howard, pressed the bottle cap against the edge of the table, twisted his wrist, and popped the cap off, which fell to the floor.

The cap rolled crisply on the ground for two circles.

Then the person handed the beer to Henry Howard, saying meaningfully, "Give me some face?"

Henry Howard didn't take it, just smiled and said, "Old friend, it's been three years, no need to be so enthusiastic, right?"

Neither of them showed any clear hostility, and the provocation in their words was so subtle you could barely catch it. But Ethan Young, leaning against the wall and watching for a while, could tell at a glance that Henry Howard's smile was all for show, completely fake.

"Trash Bro," someone at the next table asked, "What's up? You know each other?"

Then they all started talking at once: "Judging by the uniform, he's from No. 2 High, right?"

Just now, Henry Howard had his back to them the whole time. When he walked in, they were all tipsy and didn't pay attention. Now, looking more closely, someone who knew about No. 2 High's "famous figures" was shocked: "Whoa, isn't that No. 2 High's Henry Howard?"

After saying that, the person's voice dropped as he added, "And over there, that's Ethan Young?"

Trash Bro didn't insist on Henry Howard drinking, instead he tilted his head back and drank it all himself. Amid cheers, he wiped his mouth with his hand, picked up the empty bottle, and said, "If you hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't have remembered. Three years, damn, time really flies."

Trash Bro took two steps forward. "Since your memory is so good, do you still remember what I said back then? I said, don't let me see you again, remember?"

The atmosphere had been ambiguous before, but now it was clear trouble was brewing.

The dozen or so people at the two tables over there stopped watching and stood up directly, their chairs scraping harshly against the floor as they pushed them back.

Henry Howard pressed one palm against the table, still wearing that "Love and Peace" shirt, though those four words seemed ironic in this situation—like a group chat on Blackwater Street where people shout all day, 'Screw you, I'll kill your whole family,' but name the group 'No Fighting and Killing.'

After a moment, Henry Howard said, "If you have a problem, come at me. Let them leave first."

Sean Parker, being one of the "them" in Henry Howard's mouth, was still holding his chopsticks, not knowing what to do. Even a fool could see the atmosphere was off. He put down his chopsticks and said, "Not leaving. How could a brother just walk away at a time like this? Bro Henry, we're not afraid. We'll take them head-on. We even have old Young who can take on seven at once."

If it were any other time, Henry Howard would definitely pat his shoulder and say: Old Young, you dare call him that?

But Henry Howard only said, "Take on what? This has nothing to do with you guys. Leave, now."

"Brother?" Trash Bro laughed, as if those two words hit his funny bone. He laughed exaggeratedly, bent over holding his stomach, and only stopped after a while. He wiped away tears of laughter from the corner of his eye and said, "This little classmate, you treat him as a brother, but do you know what your Bro Henry is best at?"

As Trash Bro spoke, his tone slowed down, and after a few seconds, he spat out, "He's best at stabbing his brothers in the back."

Henry Howard said nothing.

Or rather, the whole room suddenly fell into a strange silence.

These two stood face to face, clearly with a lot of history between them, and it seemed like quite a story. Even Sean Parker couldn't help but space out, wondering, what does 'stab a brother in the back' mean?

Only Ethan Young, leaning against the wall, watched for a long time as if watching a show. Then Sean Parker, who was never interested in gossip and could take on seven at once, lazily spoke up: "Cut the crap, I don't want to hear it. Are you coming one by one or all at once?"

Trash Bro: ""

In the end, the fight still broke out. Ethan Young's ability to provoke people was second to none.

No one knew who flipped the table first, but food and beer bottles smashed everywhere.

Ethan Young swung a chair in the fight. Seeing Sean Parker surrounded by three people, he quickly finished off his own opponents, let go, and the chair crashed to the ground with a bang. Then he kicked the chair over, hitting those people's shins.

These guys were pretty weak, not much of a challenge. The only trouble was the girl among them—he couldn't hit her, and was afraid of accidentally hurting her.

The owner lady of the small restaurant, having the guts to open a shop near the Electrotechnical Institute, was clearly used to this. She sat at the front desk, unmoved, still pressing her calculator, already figuring out how much compensation to ask for later.

Henry Howard and Trash Bro fought one-on-one. At first, Henry Howard was clearly holding back, barely fighting back at all, but the other side had no intention of letting him off, each move more vicious than the last.

Henry Howard's temper wasn't saintly either. After a few rounds, he was getting annoyed: "Had enough yet?"

Trash Bro said something in a low voice that only the two of them could hear, and then Henry Howard swung his fist at him.

"You're a piece of shit, Henry Howard," Trash Bro took a punch to the stomach, fell down, braced himself on a chair, and after speaking, gave a meaningful smirk. "You're at No. 2 High now?"

After that punch, Henry Howard seemed to have used up all his strength, along with all those memories screaming in his mind. His whole head felt dazed.

A vein throbbed at his temple.

He stood there for a long time without moving, until Ethan Young called him, "Let's go."

On the way back, no one spoke.

Ethan Young really wasn't interested in this, or maybe he couldn't say he wasn't interested. If Henry Howard wanted to talk, he could reluctantly listen, but if it were anyone else, he probably wouldn't even want to hear it.

Thinking of this, Ethan Young suddenly realized—when did Henry Howard become the exception for him?

At the intersection, Sean Parker had to say goodbye, finally breaking the silence. He waved at them, "I'm heading back first, you guys be careful on the way."

"Is your injury okay?" Henry Howard had his hands in his pockets, standing under the streetlight. "What are you going to tell your mom when you get home?"

Sean Parker touched the small wound on his face. "It's fine, I'll just say I fell."

Henry Howard took his hand out of his pocket and waved at him too. "Alright, go on, be safe."

Ethan Young looked at Henry Howard's profile, a little distracted.

This guy was clearly emotionally wrecked right now, but was still worried about whether Sean Parker would get scolded when he got home.

Evening self-study was almost over, and there was no point going back to the classroom. If they got caught, they'd just get lectured. So the two of them went straight back to the dorm. Before entering the dorm building, Henry Howard suddenly said, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Just, about dinner today," Henry Howard scratched his head, "it turned out like this."

By the time Henry Howard reached the dorm room door, he looked almost back to normal, even smiling as he told him, "Kid, go to bed early."

Ethan Young asked him, "Are you okay now?"

Hearing those three words from Ethan Young, Henry Howard was stunned for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He sounded like he really meant it.

If Ethan Young hadn't gotten up in the middle of the night, walked halfway down the corridor to the bathroom, and seen Henry Howard sitting on the stairs smoking, he might have actually believed it.

Mr. Handsome was sitting on the highest step, a cigarette between his fingers. When he took a drag, the tip of the cigarette flared brightly for a moment, flickering in the darkness.

The stairwell's motion sensor light didn't come on, and only the faintest light from the corridor reached over.