He was halfway through his shower when this guy called, asking if he’d finished his math homework, saying there was a problem that was kind of interesting.

At the time, Ethan Young was dripping wet, barefoot on the tiled floor, and didn’t even know why he was reacting this way: “Just for this?”

Henry Howard vaguely heard the sound of running water on the other end of the line, and before he could ask, the kid said, “I’m showering, don’t bother me if it’s nothing important.”

Ethan Young had just finished showering and came out feeling a bit cold, a chill lingering all over him.

Henry Howard kept watching, couldn’t help himself, covered his hand over Ethan Young’s, pressing down on the half-dry towel, and rather clumsily helped him dry his hair.

“”Ethan Young was distracted by his movements, staring at a problem for half a minute without taking it in.

Old Wu had specially marked this problem with a star, telling them to take a look if they had time, and not to force it if they couldn’t solve it—the most important thing was to get a feel for the type.

“Wanna make a bet?” Henry Howard touched Ethan Young’s hair through the towel, and as he leaned in, the scent of the other person filled his nose. “Five minutes.”

Ethan Young: “What’s the bet?”

Solve the problem in five minutes.

As for what to bet, neither of them had figured it out yet—they’d just bet and decide later.

Ethan Young sat right on Henry Howard’s bed, tearing off a sheet of scratch paper.

Outside, the night was as calm as water.

The window was half open, and the wind slipped in through the crack.

Ethan Young wasn’t wearing much; the sweater on him looked loose, and from the sleeve you could see the jut of his wrist bone.

Henry Howard handed over the jacket hanging on the back of the chair, thinking of the last time they competed to solve problems, and joked, “Want me to give you a minute head start?”

“”Ethan Young looked up and said, “You’re pretty cocky, huh.”

The numbers on the phone timer kept ticking.

Time passed, second by second.

The problem was novel in type, not too hard, but the key was to break out of fixed thinking. Five minutes was still too short; when the timer stopped, neither of them had worked out the final answer.

But Henry Howard was quick at mental math, and based on Ethan Young’s last step, he managed to go two steps further.

“Kid,” Henry Howard tossed down his pen, turned to look at him, “a bet’s a bet.”

Ethan Young kept his head down, still working, and only after he’d finished the answer did he say, “What’s the bet?”

“Let me think,” Henry Howard had a bunch of ideas flash through his mind, but couldn’t bear to bully him too much, so finally just said, “Call me ‘ge’—just call me ‘ge’ and I’ll let you go.”

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83. Chapter Eighty-Three

Winter had arrived. Although it didn’t snow much in City A, the damp cold still managed to seep right through sweaters.

Ethan Young put down his pen, still draped in the jacket Henry Howard had handed him earlier, looked up at him with a half-smile and said, “That’s all you want?”

Before Henry Howard could reply, Ethan Young called out “ge” without a care.

He’d caught a bit of a chill these past two days. Last time, after playing basketball, he’d worked up a sweat, stripped down to just a thin undershirt, and spent half a class period in the wind on the court. Now, his voice was a little hoarse at the end, carrying a casual, careless tone.

Henry Howard was almost distracted by that offhanded word.

Then Henry Howard buried half his face in his palm, leaned back in his chair, and sighed softly, “Who’s punishing who, really.”

Seeing it was getting late, Ethan Young raised a hand to rub his temples, planning to get up and leave, but before he’d taken two steps, his wrist was suddenly grabbed tightly from behind, and he heard Henry Howard say, “Don’t go.”

Henry Howard repeated, “Don’t go tonight.”

Ethan Young stopped, letting him hold on, not pulling away: “Call you ‘ge’ and you’ll let me go—who was the idiot who said that?”

Henry Howard said, “Yeah, who was the idiot.”

“”

The brightly lit dorm building lost power. The patrol uncle was downstairs, walking back and forth with a flashlight, the beam cutting through the night, occasionally sweeping past the windows.

The single bed was too narrow. Ethan Young took off his sweater, and when he lay down, he was practically pressed up against Henry Howard.

Ethan Young shifted uncomfortably, his leg brushing against Henry Howard’s through the fabric, their ankles touching. Henry Howard hissed and warned in a low voice, “Don’t move.”

Ethan Young opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him.

Sometimes, the two of them would spend the night in each other’s dorms.

When lights-out came, they’d say they were leaving but wouldn’t move for ages, or just never managed to leave at all.

Although No. 2 High was pretty accommodating about dorm changes—just submit an application and it’d be processed in three days—things were different for Ethan Young and Henry Howard.

Before, they’d worried about all the extra-curricular books and real exam papers in their own dorms, thinking if they moved in together, would they end up sneaking out of bed at night to do problems? Now that concern was gone, and they’d even thought about switching dorms.

But when Mad Dog got their application, he was so mad his head nearly split in two, banging on his desk and shouting, “You two, what are you up to—planning to play games all night? I’ve seen your little tricks a hundred times, I’m telling you.”

Henry Howard tried to defend himself: “Actually, we just want to study hard—”

Mad Dog tossed the application straight into the trash: “Cut the crap, don’t even think about it, not up for discussion. Get back to class.”

The result of squeezing onto a single bed was that Ethan Young woke up sore all over the next day, got woken up by Mad Dog’s broadcast, and was so annoyed he nearly kicked Henry Howard out of bed.

There was too much homework. The school gate had barely opened when Wanda and the others were already in the classroom, eating breakfast and swapping homework.

Wanda was halfway through copying when he keenly heard someone push the door open, looked up, first let out a sigh of relief, then froze, a half-eaten youtiao in his mouth: “Morning, Yu-ge, what’s up, back hurting?”

Ethan Young wasn’t in a great mood, his head a bit dizzy, and just walked to the back row: “No.”

“Hey, don’t turn the page,” Wanda ducked his head again, noticing that Luke Carter’s math workbook had already been flipped by Logan Wright, “I’m not done copying, wait a sec.”

The two of them copied in peace for a while. Wanda was so focused, he didn’t even look up when grabbing breakfast, just groped for it. After a while, Logan Wright finally couldn’t take it anymore: “Can you stop eating my buns?”

Wanda swallowed the last bite in his mouth: “I knew something was off, I didn’t even buy beef buns…”

Henry Howard was filling his water bottle in the back, and couldn’t help but laugh when he heard this exchange.

Laughing, he suddenly remembered that bizarre scene during PE class, and casually asked, “Last time, what were you guys doing, circling those two girls?”

Wanda paused mid-chew.

Logan Wright stopped copying, looked at Wanda for two seconds: “”

Their class’s famous “class couple” was known school-wide, and no matter how they tried to explain or do PR, it was useless. After they stopped two girls outside the basketball court last time, a new thread popped up on the school forum: “Someone in Class 3 says they’re just good brothers—who believes that?”

The comments were almost all: “This is the classic ‘there’s no silver here’ story, right?”

No one believed it.

Anyone who did was an idiot.

There were so many posts that the three of them couldn’t even reply to all of them with their accounts.

Henry Howard hadn’t thought much of it, just asked in passing, but the two of them reacted weirdly. After filling his bottle, he shoved it into Ethan Young’s hand and said, “Judging by your faces, something’s up?”

Logan Wright was so nervous he could barely speak: “N-n-no, nothing’s up!”

Since Luke Carter wasn’t there, Wanda had a flash of inspiration and dumped the mess on the class monitor: “It’s like this, Haozi was in the student council before, and they needed him for something.”

Logan Wright breathed a sigh of relief and secretly gave Wanda a thumbs up: “Nice one.”

Sounded reasonable enough, so Henry Howard didn’t ask further.

Meanwhile, Ethan Young took the hot water Henry Howard had handed him. His hand was half tucked into his sleeve, the exposed part red from the cold, and as he touched the cup, he asked, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Can you be a little more careful?” Henry Howard sighed. “Don’t you know you’ve caught a cold? Next time you play ball, try taking off your jacket again.”

Ethan Young really hadn’t been feeling well these past couple of days, but hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just a minor chill. After Henry Howard said that, he stood there holding the hot water, dazed for a moment.

In Ray Jones’s eyes, Ethan Young was the kind of guy who could have a fever and still grab a stick to go fight.

Once, Mrs. Gu told him to take his fever medicine and lie down for a bit, but Ray Jones didn’t know what was going on and came knocking: “Fight? That little brat from the next street—”