Ethan Young’s foot might not be working well, but his fighting power was still pretty impressive. As soon as Mad Dog left, Class Three’s classroom immediately became lively and noisy. Both Ethan Young and Henry Howard’s chairs had already been knocked over, lying on the floor. People passing by who didn’t know the situation might have thought something serious had happened.

“Old Young, you can hit me,” Henry Howard said as he dodged, “but we have to think about the other classmates. If Mad Dog comes back to check, we can’t drag them down with us, you know what I mean?”

No matter how much Ethan Young lost his temper, Henry Howard never let go the whole time. Ethan Young couldn’t shake him off and was so annoyed he got a headache: “Like hell I know.”

Wanda’s “no need for supervision” was something Luke Carter didn’t get at first.

After watching for a while, he finally understood, then patted Wanda on the shoulder and said, “You really are a master, you can predict everything.”

Wanda clasped his hands in a fist: “You flatter me, I just know too much.”

The fight didn’t last long.

Henry Howard was just busy supporting the little limper, afraid he’d lose his balance and fall.

The boy was dressed lightly, leaning against the wall, one hand still holding Ethan Young’s, the other on his waist. He lowered his head and said, “Alright, alright, stop moving around. I won’t dodge, hit me however you want.”

His tone was really like coaxing a little kid.

Then, just as Henry Howard wished, he got pinned down and beaten up.

“Bringing you into Class Three, Grade Eleven, I am your most beloved class monitor,” Luke Carter had taken quite a few photos and short videos during the two-day sports meet, and even brought his camera from home. He first took a bunch of selfies, then turned the lens to the class, sweeping from left to right, finally stopping at the back corner of the classroom, “In the corner, our Bro Henry, achieving the daily ‘getting beaten up’ milestone.”

Luke Carter hadn’t filmed for long when Wanda’s face suddenly popped up, filling the whole frame: “Hello everyone”

Wanda had only said three words before Luke Carter pushed his head aside in disgust: “Go cool off somewhere else.”

There were still nearly ten minutes before class ended.

Teachers from each subject came by to assign homework, filling up almost half the blackboard. At least it diluted the wild, unbridled atmosphere from two days off for the sports meet.

“That much?”

“Isn’t that too much homework?”

After the English teacher finished writing, she put the chalk back in the box, clapped her hands to dust off the chalk powder, and said, “This is to wake you all up, so you don’t all go crazy playing.”

The English teacher gave a few more reminders and was about to head back to the office, when she suddenly remembered that some people hadn’t handed in the test paper assigned the day before yesterday. So she stopped at the classroom door and asked, “Henry Howard, where’s your homework?”

Henry Howard replied loudly, “Give me a little more time.”

The English teacher wanted to say, ‘Then just don’t hand it in,’ but was caught off guard when she saw Henry Howard and Ethan Young holding hands: “What’s going on with you two?”

Ethan Young kept a straight face and coughed, while Henry Howard wisely kept quiet.

In the end, it was Luke Carter who said, “Teacher, the two of them are holding hands because Manager Jensen told them to hold hands until class ends.”

The English teacher asked, “Why? Are you two in love?”

“Yes, yes, yes, it shows the spirit of unity and friendship in our class.”

Although Henry Howard gave in quickly when it came to fighting—so quickly it was almost undignified—he was still stubborn about the hand-holding, refusing to let go no matter what.

Ethan Young was really fed up: “Mad Dog isn’t even here.”

“He’s unpredictable,” Henry Howard said, “we have to be ready at all times.”

“”

“I need to copy homework,” after a while, Ethan Young moved his fingers, making an excuse, “Let go, I haven’t finished copying yesterday’s homework.”

Ethan Young was sitting on the left, and it was his right hand being held. He couldn’t write with his left hand.

But Henry Howard demonstrated a principle with his actions: you have no idea how shameless Flirty Bro can get when he’s being shameless!

“Let’s switch seats,” Henry Howard said, “you sit here.”

In the end, the two of them really did switch seats.

Ethan Young sat in Henry Howard’s seat, pen in hand, copying a few lines from Wanda’s math homework. After finishing one problem, he realized he’d copied the wrong one.

Meanwhile, Henry Howard sat next to him, playing on his phone with his left hand.

Neither of them said a word.

But why was the atmosphere so weird?

The noisy sounds in the classroom seemed to fade further and further away. Ethan Young felt the hand he was holding with Henry Howard getting hotter and hotter. He didn’t know whose palm was sweating, but it was sticky.

Ethan Young stared at the problem he’d copied wrong, dazed for a while, and finally just closed his homework notebook.

Henry Howard wasn’t doing much better. His phone screen was on a game, but he lost in less than ten seconds, and then just stayed on the game over screen without moving.

Sean Parker was playing with him in a team, and when he saw Henry Howard lose, he sent several private messages: Bro Henry why are you so bad today?? You’re leaving me to face this dangerous world alone? Huh? You’re too cruel.

He’d never felt ten minutes drag on so long, but when the bell finally rang, Henry Howard thought, damn, ten minutes is so short.

Henry Howard stared at his own palm for a long time, then looked up to see his deskmate already holding the wall, walking to the back door of the classroom: “Where are you going?”

Ethan Young said, “Bathroom.”

Henry Howard had just said “I—”, and hadn’t finished saying “will go with you” when Ethan Young cut him off: “No need.”

As cold as ever.

Henry Howard sat at his desk, legs crossed, watching him, and casually asked, “So is it convenient for you to pee?”

Ethan Young casually replied, “You want to help me hold it?”

“”

Neither of them thought much when they said it, but after, they realized the topic was a bit weird.

Henry Howard didn’t know what he was imagining, but suddenly his throat felt dry. He opened his mouth, and after a long time finally said, “Then, uh, go ahead.”

After a while, Henry Howard quit the game, opened Penguin, and stared at his personal status, which was just a string of “ah”s. He thought for a long time, then went in to edit it, and added a few more “ah”s to the end.

Posted the status.

After posting, Henry Howard went back to his friends list and saw a little red dot on his contacts. He clicked it, and a notification popped up.

—“Your Jay” requests to add you as a friend.

Henry Howard’s finger paused on the screen.

After using the bathroom, Ethan Young also went to the cafeteria to eat. His foot injury wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t walk, just made him a bit slower. He didn’t really want to see Henry Howard’s face for a while—it was just annoying, couldn’t say exactly why, but it made him want to hit someone.

For the sake of Henry Howard’s safety, Ethan Young just went downstairs.

When he came back, Henry Howard’s seat was already empty.

“Bro Henry got a call and went out,” Wanda had come back early, holding a Fudan milk tea. Seeing Ethan Young glance at Henry Howard’s seat a couple of times, he explained, “He said he left you a note.”

Ethan Young glanced over the desk and sure enough, there was a note, held down by the corner of a textbook.

Wanda watched as their class’s big boss Ethan Young said “None of my business,” while pulling out the note and staring at it for a long time.

“What did he write?” Wanda leaned over to ask.

Ethan Young put down the note, thinking, what the hell is the point of leaving this, might as well not have.

Seeing Wanda was really curious, Ethan Young folded up the note and said, “No idea, can’t read it.”

Wanda: “”

Ethan Young couldn’t help but mock, “What the hell is this.”

Your Jay was Jay Ray’s online name, his little internet alias, and it had never changed all these years.

Back when Ray Jr. dropped out, Jay Ray also blocked him, and they hadn’t been in touch for three years.

After adding him as a friend, Jay Ray only sent one message: What’s your phone number?

Then a call came through.

“I’m at your school’s back gate, the really run-down one,” Jay Ray was probably smoking, his exhale heavy, voice rough, “Come out for a bit.”

No. 2 High had two back gates, one of which had been closed for years, overgrown and rusting.

Since he said the really run-down one, it had to be that one.

Jay Ray came alone.

He was squatting at the back gate, and only when he saw Henry Howard coming did he stub out his cigarette on the ground, grinding it out.

Henry Howard walked up and asked, “Why meet here?”

Can’t get in or out, not convenient for fighting either.

Jay Ray was still squatting. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, and he looked at him through the iron fence. He said, “Not here to fight you. Henry Howard, I just have two questions, then I’ll go.”

Then Jay Ray asked the first question: “Why did you come to No. 2 High?”