Henry Howard brought over this set of "Selected Gaokao Questions". Ethan Young didn’t really pick through them; the difficulty was about the same. He casually tore off a sheet, glanced at his phone to check the time, and after looking, tossed the phone straight onto the floor.

Half an hour, papers would be collected at about eleven.

Before seeing what Henry Howard could actually answer, Ethan Young still held a skeptical attitude, even though a faint, unbelievable thought kept surfacing in his mind.

Henry Howard wrote two questions, his mood drifting.

Holding the pen, his knuckles stood out. He stared at the ugly, wild scrawl on the test paper, paused, and then switched the pen from his right hand to his left.

Ethan Young finished before eleven. He looked up and saw that idiot on the steps had just put down his pen too, resting the test paper on his knee and looking at him.

The two of them quietly stared at each other for a moment.

Ethan Young walked up the steps with his test paper. When he went to take the one on Henry Howard's knee, Henry Howard pressed down on the paper with one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other, saying in a low voice, "Um, can you let me off this time?"

"Weren’t you pretty cocky just now," Ethan Young said, pulling the test paper bit by bit from his hand. When it got stuck halfway, he added, "Let go."

Ethan Young had been telling himself it was impossible, but when he saw the test paper, he was speechless.

Except for the first few lines of ugly handwriting, the rest of the paper, though still wild, was sharp and bold, the strokes strong and forceful—a kind of unruly beauty that looked nothing like the earlier lines, as if written by a different person.

Ethan Young didn’t know what to say. He flipped the paper over and looked again, making sure he wasn’t seeing things.

"I’m left-handed," Henry Howard explained, a little nervous. "But my right hand isn’t bad either, just a different style. The right is more unrestrained and free."

He’d used his left hand since he was little, but his family had deliberately made him practice with his right, hoping to correct it while he was young. Over time, the "left" wasn’t so obvious anymore.

"Let me correct you. It’s dogshit."

Ethan Young thought, this guy came here with the title of question king, so it’s not surprising his handwriting suddenly looks good—his skills are top-notch. But he still felt inexplicably annoyed, so after speaking, he added, "You might have some misunderstanding about what ‘unrestrained and free’ means."

Half an hour was a bit tight for answering. Henry Howard skipped steps in his solutions, condensing three steps into one. He only used half the answer area, did the calculations in the scratch space, then circled the answer as the final step.

Ethan Young carefully checked from the first question to the last, and found that except for a missing decimal point due to a slip of the pen on the last problem, there were basically no mistakes.

Henry Howard was also looking at his.

With a glance, he saw his boyfriend really left the first ten questions blank.

He said he’d give up ten questions, and he really did. So cocky.

Looking further down, every answer was clear and concise.

Henry Howard had seen that "x-god" do problems before—logic doesn’t lie. Whether it was the way he chose his approach or his habit of underlining key conditions, it was exactly the same as what was shown on this test paper.

After checking the answers, even if he didn’t want to believe it, the facts were right there.

—It was only now that Ethan Young felt something uncontrollable surging out of his mind. Hard to describe, but besides shock, the most direct feeling was that the other guy looked like an idiot, and he himself looked even more like one.

Henry Howard opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Ethan Young was already rolling up his sleeves, saying, "I don’t know what to say right now. Let’s just fight for ten minutes first."

Henry Howard: "That’s probably not a good idea. Violence can’t solve the problem. Why don’t we sit down calmly—"

He hadn’t finished saying "and talk it out" when Ethan Young already started swinging.

Henry Howard pushed himself up from the steps with one hand, moved aside, but before he could steady himself, another blow came at him.

Fast as the wind, showing no mercy.

The hallway was small, so neither of them could really move. They weren’t playing around, even if they weren’t going all out. Especially Ethan Young, who’d always solved problems by pinning people to the ground since he was a kid—the Blackwater Street boss who never wasted words when he could use his fists.

As Henry Howard took the hits, he thought to himself, Damn, my boyfriend, the type who just goes for it without a word, is so damn cute.

Ethan Young started off fierce, but gradually eased up. Henry Howard took the chance to pull him into his arms, held down the unruly kid, and kissed him without giving him a chance to protest.

The boy was stubborn and proud, but his lips were so soft.

Ethan Young’s back was against the wall, his loose hoodie covering his forehead, blocking his view a bit. The strongest sensation was the hand gripping his waist, and the way the other’s tongue invaded his mouth, wild and aggressive.

The narrow hallway.

A few people were moving on the floors below, their footsteps echoing up the spiral staircase.

"I don’t know what to say either."

Henry Howard didn’t let go completely, his lips brushing against Ethan Young’s, especially as he spoke, deliberately tugging Ethan Young’s hood down: "How about this, let’s kiss for twenty minutes first."

"Get lost."

After all this, from meeting at the Century City gate to seeing the other’s near-perfect test paper, that overwhelming feeling finally started to fade.

The two of them sat side by side on the stairs, each organizing their thoughts.

Ethan Young rubbed his fingertip at the corner of his mouth, which still hurt from the kiss. After a while, he asked, "Got a cigarette?"

"Kids can’t smoke," Henry Howard pulled out a lollipop from his pocket, pink wrapper, ridiculously flashy. He held it by the stick and asked, "Will this do?"

Ethan Young took it and unwrapped it.

"What’s your deal, anyway," Ethan Young was halfway through unwrapping, then remembered the study materials he’d spent so much effort organizing not long ago, and added, "Do you even know how much work I put into that—"

Henry Howard cut him off: "Second to last in the grade, what’s your deal?"

Mentioning those two study emails, Ethan Young stopped mid-sentence. Then he recalled the "Complete High School Textbook Guide" that had mysteriously appeared on his desk, and suddenly sensed something was off, catching a clue.

"You bought the book?"

Henry Howard pondered the word "organize", then realized: "You sent the emails?"

""

Ethan Young didn’t say anything, just crumpled the candy wrapper into a ball in his palm.

Damn, what a mess.

After all that, they’d both been worrying for nothing.

Henry Howard propped his palm on the step, the edge digging into it, and suddenly wanted to laugh: "I thought the main thing was that Wanda and the others’ analysis sounded pretty convincing."

Ethan Young said, "Convincing my ass, you actually believed that nonsense?"

The footsteps from the lower floors finally stopped.

The hallway felt a bit empty.

Henry Howard put away his smile, sitting on the steps, looking down from above. His gaze dropped, and after a moment of silence, he finally said, "Do you remember, last time when we were eating near the e-sports club, we ran into that Ji-ge?"

Ethan Young bit the candy, his mouth full, and mumbled an "mm".

Henry Howard thought that was something he’d never be able to talk about, that it would always be buried in his heart.

Buried until it rotted.

Stuck, unable to go up or down.

It had actually been years. Many details had faded, but every time he thought he could finally forget, he’d wake up in a cold sweat some night.

When he finally finished telling the story, he still didn’t dare look at Ethan Young’s face.

All he could think was, would the kid think he was a terrible person, would he be disappointed, would he—

Henry Howard got so lost in thought, he didn’t notice his palm was still pressed against the step edge, leaving a mark.

Ethan Young didn’t say "It’s okay, it’s not your fault" or "You really were wrong". No blame, no comfort.

As Henry Howard grew more and more uneasy, Ethan Young pinched the thin plastic stick, took the candy out of his mouth, and held it out to Henry Howard.

"Bro, want some?"

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

75. Chapter Seventy-Five

Henry Howard had his head down, staring unblinkingly at the steps below, his mind a mess. When he heard this, he suddenly looked up.

Ethan Young didn’t seem to react much.

The only reaction was that before Henry Howard could say yes or no, he shoved the candy straight into his mouth.

Henry Howard froze.

Then the taste of fruit candy slowly spread.

Sweet.