The student in the No. 6 Middle School uniform was still sitting on the ground, trembling. When Samuel Clark squatted down, his first reaction was, “I really don’t have any money left, really…” TAT.

Samuel Clark: “…”

Do I really look that much like a robber?

Samuel Clark didn’t say anything, just stuffed the wad of cash into his hand, stood up, and walked back, pushing open the internet café door before tossing out a sentence: “Don’t come to places like this again.”

Samuel Clark stayed in the internet café until almost nine before logging off.

It was already completely dark outside, the streetlights on both sides of the road stretching out along the street.

The school gate was locked at 6:30, and the dormitory building stayed open until ten, but if you couldn’t get into the school, it didn’t matter if it stayed open until dawn.

Samuel Clark, familiar with the place, made his way around to the back gate of the school.

The back gate was right next to the dormitory building, kept closed all year round, a rusty iron gate secured with a thick iron chain. The whole wall just happened to enclose the boys’ dormitory building, and the building closest to the wall was the one for the second-year students, almost directly facing the back gate.

He stepped onto a stone at the base of the wall, braced himself, and climbed over. The teenager was tall and long-legged, making it effortless; his back arched in a curve as he let go, one leg swinging down, just about to jump—

When he saw someone walking over from the other side.

That person was very tall, carrying a backpack over one shoulder, the cuffs of his school uniform rolled up to reveal half his wrist. The gray-blue school uniform, ranked third-worst in the district, looked somehow different on him.

It was too far to see his face clearly, but when the person walked under the streetlight, Samuel Clark realized there was a more important problem.

He cursed under his breath.

Damn.

What luck.

His flawless record of sneaking in and out of school was ruined today.

Chapter Three

Climbing over the school wall without permission was a serious offense, bolded and highlighted on the very first page of the school rules. Anyone who broke the rule had to write a self-criticism in front of the whole school and would be punished.

Although Samuel Clark often broke the rules, he was rarely caught in the act. If there was no solid evidence or witnesses, he could usually bluff his way out, brazenly denying he’d ever done such a thing, and the teachers couldn’t do anything about it.

Back in his first year, he even had a pretty decent relationship with the teachers.

Although the first reaction of every subject teacher to the name “Samuel Clark” was a headache, relationships between people are strange—sometimes even scolding can build a bond.

After so many trips to the teachers’ office, it was hard not to get familiar.

In short, he wasn’t really afraid of this, but it was still a hassle.

Samuel Clark half-sat on the wall, stuck between jumping and not jumping.

At night, the noisy cicadas of the summer noon had quieted, the streetlights stretched out the shadows, and the boy on the wall hesitated for a moment, one hand on the edge, before finally jumping down.

“You didn’t see anything, and no one jumped over this wall,” Samuel Clark brushed the dust off his hands and walked forward, speaking in a tone that was anything but negotiable, “…understand?”

Now that he was closer, Samuel Clark could finally see what the person looked like.

He was a bit taller than him.

His uniform was worn perfectly, buttoned all the way to the top, so proper it was almost over the top… But did the No. 6 Middle School uniform really look that good? Samuel Clark’s thoughts drifted.

Other than that, there was just one word: cold.

That coldness didn’t come from his looks, but from an indescribable aura that kept people at a distance.

In fact, the person in front of him was quite good-looking. The boy’s eyes were deep, with a pronounced double eyelid, black hair falling over his forehead, adding to the chill. Samuel Clark always considered his own standards high; in the whole school, the only people he’d admit were “good-looking” besides himself were the teachers and directors he’d occasionally have to flatter with a “You look great today.”

But the person didn’t even look at him, just walked past toward the dormitory building.

The dorm manager, hearing the noise, opened the window. He seemed very familiar with the student in uniform and greeted him warmly, “Back already? Everything okay at home?”

“It’s fine.” His voice was cold, but also a bit low.

“That’s good,” the dorm manager flipped open the attendance book and handed over a pen, “Cancel your leave, just sign here and you can go up.”

“Sir,” after signing, the student in uniform said, “there’s one more thing.”

“Is it the dorm window screen that’s broken?” the dorm manager asked. “A lot of people have told me about it these days. I’ve already reported it to the school today—they said they’ll fix them all in a few days.”

“It’s not that.”

Samuel Clark had just stepped onto the first stair when he heard the student in uniform say, “That guy over there, the one not wearing a uniform.”

The next sentence: “He just climbed in through the back gate.”

“…”

Samuel Clark almost missed a step.

With things said so plainly, how could the dorm manager not get it? He took the attendance book, slapped it on the table, and shouted, “The student not wearing a uniform, stay there, come over here.”

Two minutes later, Samuel Clark was herded into the dorm manager’s office.

Standing next to him was the student in uniform.

Only, he was the one being interrogated, while the student in uniform was just there as a witness.