There were already quite a few parents gathered at the school gate. Quinn Shaw’s mom, wearing a sun hat, was sitting on her electric scooter chatting with other parents. When she saw her getting out of the car, she took an apple out of the front basket: “Are you hungry? What did you bring for the field trip? I’m telling you, don’t eat too many snacks.”

Most of these parents more or less knew each other. Luke Carter had already complained in the class group before, saying he didn’t know how his mom had managed to strike up a friendship with Sunny Bro’s mom at the school gate.

Luke Carter and the others walked over and greeted everyone with a string of “Hello, uncle, hello, auntie.”

Henry Howard got out of the car and glanced over from across the street.

Ethan Young didn’t have much to bring. The clothes he took home last weekend still hadn’t been brought back, but he still followed Henry Howard toward the dorm building.

When the kid followed him into the dorm room, Henry Howard finally realized something was off: “Aren’t you packing up?”

Ethan Young: “I don’t have anything to take.”

Henry Howard was just about to ask, then why did you come in, when he heard Ethan Young say again, “Just came to comfort my boyfriend a bit, then I’ll leave.”

This person had said before he wanted a hug, but after searching everywhere, he couldn’t find a place.

Ethan Young originally thought he’d just hug for a bit and then leave, but when they actually got together, he found it wasn’t so easy to walk away.

Henry Howard pressed down tightly, his hand slipping under the edge of his school pants without asking, then lowered his head and bit his neck: “Want me to help you out?”

Ethan Young let out a muffled groan, the sound making Henry Howard’s hand tighten, almost losing control of his strength.

Ethan Young’s fingers gripped the bedsheet, knuckles taut, the red string on his wrist making his skin look even paler, creating a vivid and lingering contrast.

Back when Henry Howard bought it, he never imagined it would look like this on Ethan Young’s wrist.

Damn, this is really killing me.

When it was over, Ethan Young let go of the bedsheet, raised his hand to cover his eyes. Henry Howard propped himself up on the bed, got up to pull a few tissues from the bedside, and handed them over.

Even the air was filled with a certain bodily fluid’s scent.

Ethan Young took them, wiped a few times to little effect, and decided to go home and change his pants. Then he remembered Henry Howard was still hard.

“I advise you not to touch me,” Henry Howard said hoarsely, “or you might not be able to go home and comfort your mom.”

“Well then,” Ethan Young’s hand was about to reach over, but after hearing this, he changed direction, propped himself up on the bed, and got up easily, saying, “Thanks for your hard work. Maybe try a cold shower.”

“”

When Ethan Young went out to catch his ride, there were hardly any people left at the school gate.

After getting in the car, he called Ms. Miller, who happily said “okay” several times on the other end.

Then Ms. Miller asked, “Did you have fun at the field trip? Are you hungry? What do you want to eat when you get home?”

“It was alright, just so-so,” Ethan Young said. “Just make whatever, it’s fine.”

After hanging up, Ethan Young suddenly thought that Henry Howard almost never went home on weekends.

His mom was abroad, but he hadn’t really heard Henry Howard mention his dad either.

What kind of parent isn’t worried when their kid’s grades are like that? Must have a big heart.

Thinking about it, Ethan Young sent a message to the person who should be done showering: Done yet?

Henry Howard replied quickly.

Not yet.

The thought of you makes it impossible.

By the time Ethan Young arrived at his stop, Henry Howard had just finished, drying his hair as he called: “Are you home?”

Ethan Young got off, walked forward, and said casually, “You sure took a long shower.”

Henry Howard laughed in a low voice: “Yeah, endurance.”

Ignoring Henry Howard’s dirty joke, Ethan Young asked, “Aren’t you going home?”

“No one’s home, what would I go back for?” Henry Howard sat on the bed, bit open a pen cap, flipped open a textbook and said, “My dad’s on a business trip, always traveling.”

“He doesn’t care about you?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t care, he just lets me figure things out myself. If I really want to do something, he won’t stop me.”

Henry Howard felt his dad was pretty rare. Back when he said he’d skip the high school entrance exam, he just did, then dropped out and stayed home, and Old He never scolded him, just analyzed the pros and cons, and let him decide for himself.

The thing he said most was: “Henry Howard, your life is your own.”

“I’m here, talk later.”

“Mm.”

But after Henry Howard said “mm”, he didn’t hang up.

Ethan Young stood at the door, leaning against the wall, a little amused: “If I don’t hang up, are you just not going to hang up either?”

“Then I’ll hang up,” Henry Howard said. “You go in quickly.”

As soon as Ethan Young got in and changed his shoes, Grace Miller handed him a fruit plate, heavy in his hands: “Go eat on the sofa, dinner will be ready soon.”

The fruit plate was cut very neatly, several kinds of fruit arranged on a glass plate.

Ethan Young picked up a couple of pieces with a toothpick, then walked over and leaned against the kitchen door to watch her.

Grace Miller finished cutting the vegetables, washed her hands, and turned to see what was on Ethan Young’s wrist: “When did you buy that?”

Ethan Young followed her gaze down, finally landing on his own wrist, and said, “Oh, this, just today during the field trip.”

Grace Miller didn’t think much of it. Mainly, she knew Ethan Young’s personality better than anyone—he usually didn’t like to interact with people—so she just said, “When you were little, you didn’t even like wearing the little gold lock I bought you. Every time I put it around your neck, you’d cry.”

Ethan Young didn’t say anything.

Gregory Cooper came home early tonight, so the three of them had dinner together. There wasn’t much conversation at the table. Ms. Miller and Gregory Cooper chatted about Mrs. Chen and Mrs. Lu, which Ethan Young had no interest in, so after eating a bit, he planned to go upstairs.

Grace Miller asked, “Don’t want to eat a bit more?”

Ethan Young said, “No, I’m full. You two take your time.”

Soon, Ethan Young found that once he was alone and quiet, he couldn’t help but think about a certain idiot’s excavator future.

He’d looked at Henry Howard’s midterm exam papers. It wasn’t hopeless—there were a few questions that Old Wu had explained countless times, and even the ones that would make Old Wu furious if anyone got them wrong, Henry Howard had answered correctly.

Ethan Young thought for a bit, turned on his computer, opened a Word document, and typed a line in the title: Key Points Summary for the College Entrance Exam.

Past eleven at night.

Henry Howard was in the dorm working through practice papers when a new email notification popped up on his phone.

—You have a new email.

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

66. Chapter Sixty-Six

Email subject: Sprint to the College Entrance Exam, Get Rid of Low Scores.

Henry Howard put down his pen, glanced at the sender—didn’t recognize it, new number, low level, not a contact.

His first reaction was spam.

When school first started, for the parent contact number, Henry Howard had put his own.

Those training centers somehow got hold of student info, and every few days he’d get several spam texts. After every exam, the ads would bombard him even more: Hello, parent of Henry Howard, we are xxx College Entrance Exam Sprint Class. We already know your child’s grades at school, and sincerely recommend our 80-day improvement class, one-on-one guidance from top teachers...

There were also always various education training agencies handing out flyers at the gate of No. 2 High School, and every few days they’d pull people over to do surveys.

He’d run into this once when he went out to eat with Ethan Young.

A few people holding forms stood at the intersection, watching, and as soon as they saw someone coming out of the restaurant, they’d approach: “Hello, student, could you—”

Ethan Young cut them off with just two words: “No way.”

“”

Those people were stunned for a moment, probably never having met someone like that.

When they came to their senses, they still didn’t give up, trying to say, “It’s like this, we’re—”

“I don’t want to know,” Ethan Young said. “Can you move? You’re blocking the way.”

Thinking of this, Henry Howard wanted to laugh again, thinking, his kid must be the type salespeople hate most.

Doesn’t even give people a chance to finish their pitch.

Super cold.

With the mindset of checking out spam, Henry Howard clicked in, only to find it wasn’t the 80-day improvement class he’d imagined.

—It was actually a study materials email.

Not a single line of advertising.

It was divided into sections by subject, all important points, the whole document was concise and clear, not a single wasted word.

Henry Howard skimmed through it, didn’t see any hard problems, looked more like it was for helping struggling students with the basics.

All in all, it was a pretty perfect basic knowledge summary.