Then the handsome guy lowered his head, slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, skillfully stubbed out the remaining half, got ready to stand up, and looked up to see the cold little kid standing at the top of the stairs.

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42. Chapter Forty-Two

Henry Howard was holding half a cigarette in his hand, surrounded by the smell of smoke. For some reason, he felt like he’d just been caught doing something bad. He was speechless for a moment before finally saying, “Not behaving, huh? Still not asleep?”

Maybe it was because he’d just finished smoking, but Henry Howard’s voice sounded much hoarser, low and deep, even the ending syllables seemed to drop.

After speaking, he let go of his fingers, and the cigarette butt fell straight to the ground. Then he didn’t know what else to say.

It was the first time Ethan Young had seen Henry Howard like this—or rather, seen this side of Henry Howard.

When he met Henry Howard, this big idiot had already started quitting smoking, always chewing on candy or holding a stick in his mouth. Ethan Young smelled the nicotine in the air and suddenly wondered what the infamous East Building boss from their first year of high school was really like.

Was it like this?

His whole aura was a bit low, but he still looked forceful, even a little fierce. He seemed a bit tired, with a bad temper.

“I’m going to the bathroom first,” Ethan Young used the same joke Henry Howard had used before, but in a stronger version. He turned around and said, “You damn well stay here and don’t move around.”

Henry Howard let out an “ah”, and only after Ethan Young walked past him did he remember, “Why are you coming here to use the bathroom?”

If nothing else, No. 2 High was famous for its good dorm conditions—air conditioning, private bathrooms, and spacious rooms.

Ethan Young’s voice came from farther away: “The water pipe is leaking, I reported it for repair.”

Henry Howard sat on the steps without moving.

He actually went to bed early, lay down after showering, but then woke up from a dream, drenched in sweat, and on this crisp autumn night, he just couldn’t fall back asleep no matter how he tossed and turned.

Over and over in his ears was the moment in the restaurant when Jay Ray suddenly got in his face and whispered in his ear, “Henry Howard, you made Ray Jr. end up like this, why haven’t you gone to hell yet?”

Even in his dreams, it was like an invisible hand was gripping his throat, suffocating him so he couldn’t say a word.

Henry Howard lowered his head, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. With a “click”, a small flame shot out.

When he let go, the spot under his thumb gradually heated up, burning from his fingertip upward.

Jay Ray is now Trash Bro, a fourth-year at the School of Electrical Technology, who repeated a year. He wasn’t exactly a school bully, but after making it this far, all the old “big brothers” from the electrical tech department had pretty much left, so the responsibility fell to him.

Even though they acted like enemies now every time they met, they used to be good buddies.

Back in middle school, Henry Howard was popular and knew everyone, but he only had a few real friends. Once, he ran into Jay Ray at the convenience store—Jay Ray was heartbroken, drinking Coke like it was booze, with another boy beside him comforting him: “Women come and go, but your bro is always here.”

Jay Ray said, “Ray Jr., do you like me? But I don’t like guys.”

And that’s how they met.

Jay Ray and Felix Carter both had such bad grades that teachers basically ignored them, as long as they didn’t disturb other students.

But back then, Henry Howard was really the pride of the whole village, everyone’s future outstanding alumnus.

The fact that this future star could hang out with two underachievers drove all the teachers crazy, especially the homeroom teacher: “Don’t hang out with them, you’re not like them.”

How bad could middle school kids really be? They hadn’t even started mixing in society yet, just had bad grades.

Every time, Henry Howard would say, “Teacher, for example, if I turn bad, it’s my own fault, not anyone else’s. Besides, I’m doing fine now, so could you not be prejudiced against other students?”

As Henry Howard thought about this, he suddenly lay back, arms crossed behind his neck.

He was wearing thin clothes, and as he lay down, he felt a chill seep through the fabric into his back.

Henry Howard hadn’t been lying down long when Ethan Young came back after washing his hands, stepped over the stairs, and sat down next to him. “Do you still have any candy?”

Henry Howard thought he wanted some: “In my pocket, I think there’s one left, check.”

Seeing that the handsome guy had no intention of moving, Ethan Young reached out to search: “Which side?”

Henry Howard said, “Left side, I think.”

Henry Howard was just wearing a short-sleeved shirt, obviously with no pockets. Ethan Young’s hand paused halfway.

Actually, Henry Howard had mixed up his clothes. He thought he was wearing his “Love and Peace” shirt, and remembered stuffing a handful of candy in the pocket that morning. When Ethan Young’s hand, through the fabric, brushed against his inner thigh, he suddenly snapped back to reality.

“”

Henry Howard was wearing low-rise jeans. Black, ripped.

Ethan Young lowered his head, searched his pocket for a while but found nothing, though he did notice the person next to him getting more and more tense.

Henry Howard couldn’t lie down anymore. He sat up, instinctively grabbed Ethan Young’s wrist. The boy’s skin was warm, and the bone at his wrist pressed into Henry Howard’s palm.

He cursed silently in his heart, “Shit.”

“I remembered wrong,” Henry Howard said, “No candy, it’s in the dorm. If you want, I’ll—”

Before Henry Howard could finish, he scrambled up, hands on the ground, then took the stairs down two at a time. He didn’t even step on the last few, just jumped straight down, his shirt hem fluttering in the wind.

Like he was flying.

Ethan Young sat on the steps, thinking, what’s with this guy now.

A few minutes later, Henry Howard came back holding a metal tin. It was pretty big, even bigger than the candy jar he’d seen on the desk in his dorm before—he must have brought all his stash.

It was packed with all kinds of flavors.

Henry Howard lifted the lid and handed it to Ethan Young: “Here.” All for you.

Ethan Young took it, set it on his knees, and carefully picked through it for a while, finally digging out a strawberry lollipop from the bottom.

Henry Howard just watched, watched as the cold little kid unwrapped the candy, and then, out of nowhere, heard Ethan Young suddenly let out a drawn-out syllable: “Ah.”

Henry Howard: “Ah?”

It was just a single syllable. As soon as Henry Howard opened his mouth, Ethan Young shoved the candy in, quick and precise. The cloying sweetness instantly spread across his tongue, washing away the bitter taste of tobacco from before.

“Eat up, kid,” Ethan Young seemed pretty pleased to be able to throw the “kid” title back at him, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, though his tone was habitually cool. “Remember to brush your teeth when you’re done.”

Henry Howard was stunned for a moment, only reacting when he heard “brush your teeth”, lollipop in his mouth: “You—”

Halfway through, Henry Howard stopped himself: “Forget it, I’ll let you win this time.”

The motion-sensor light that had come on when Henry Howard ran back now went out again.

After a while, Ethan Young finally asked, “That trash, old friend?”

“Trash Bro? His name is Jay Ray.” Henry Howard said, “Middle school classmate, not a bad guy. We’ve got some history.”

He could tell.

Ethan Young thought, if he was really some kind of idiot, they wouldn’t have gotten away so easily. Their fights were pretty fair—fight, then move on.

He’d seen plenty of idiots on Blackwater Street, the kind who’d keep coming at you even if they had to call for backup, like a sticky plaster you couldn’t peel off without losing a layer of skin.

Either you’re tougher than him, or even dumber—then he’s scared of you.

Ethan Young didn’t ask any more, and Henry Howard didn’t know how to explain.

—Actually, I’m a super genius, my grades were never bad. If I said that out loud, I’d probably get beaten to death.

As Henry Howard thought about it, those words started echoing in his ears again.

“Henry Howard, the teacher will handle this. Just focus on your exams and bring honor to the school.”

The homeroom teacher’s face was a bit blurry, but the woman was clearly smiling: “I know you, I know you’re a good kid. This was just an accident, and you didn’t mean it—don’t overthink it.”

Henry Howard slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again. Ethan Young was already getting up, ready to go back to the dorm to sleep.

Henry Howard didn’t know what he was thinking, but he grabbed the hem of Ethan Young’s shirt, wanting to pull him back. As soon as his hand touched the soft fabric, he realized and let go.