“I can’t pinch the dough, and you won’t let me use a knife to cut it,” Eric Bennett said.

　　“Not mixing the filling? Not boiling water?” Grandma said.

　　“Zhajiang noodles,” Eric Bennett leaned against the doorframe, “I want to eat zhajiang noodles now.”

　　“You rascal, can’t count on you. Your second aunt will be here soon, I’ll just have her help me.” Grandma lowered her head, counting on her fingers.

　　“Isn’t my second aunt coming tomorrow?” Eric Bennett asked.

　　“She’s coming today,” Grandma finished counting, looked up, and raised her eyebrows, “She’ll be here soon.”

　　Eric Bennett went downstairs and ran into Ms. Harris who was coming up. He greeted her, “Ms. Harris, you caught a cold?”

　　“Ah, I was out in the wind this morning,” Ms. Harris replied. After he finished going down the stairs, she suddenly grabbed the railing in surprise and asked, “How did you know?”

　　Eric Bennett just smiled and said nothing.

　　“You’ve learned a lot from your grandma…” Ms. Harris marveled, “How did you know?”

　　Eric Bennett sighed. People were too easy to fool. He’d only heard Ms. Harris sneeze and let out a heavily nasal sigh while talking to Grandma at the door.

　　But sometimes Grandma really was a bit magical. As he walked out of the building, he ran into his second aunt.

　　“Second aunt, did you tell Grandma you were coming?” Eric Bennett immediately asked.

　　“No, I was just passing by while running errands today. I was supposed to come tomorrow,” Second Aunt said. “But since I’m already here, might as well come today.”

　　“Then how did she know you were coming?” Eric Bennett asked.

　　“She just counted on her fingers,” Second Aunt said. “You’re the one who’s learned the most from her in the family, and you’re asking me?”

　　Eric Bennett smiled and lowered his head, starting to count on his left hand.

　　“What did you figure out?” Second Aunt asked with a laugh as she walked upstairs.

　　“I’ll have a romantic encounter within a week.” Eric Bennett raised an eyebrow.

Chapter 2

　　Edward Clark didn’t stay home overnight. After eating noodles with toppings, he left, shutting his mom’s complaints behind the door.

　　The only thing to be grateful for was that today he only heard “your brother BLABLABLA” once.

　　When it comes to presence, no one in this family can compare to “your brother.”

　　Even though your brother isn’t in this house, his legend still gives him the highest status here.

　　On this ordinary, clear night, with a bright moon and scattered stars, lights shining in thousands of homes, on a night when every ambitious senior is buried in their books, Edward Clark spent half an hour at the claw machine, listened to a street singer for half an hour, even requested a song, and finally walked into his usual barbecue place.

　　“The usual!” the boss behind the skewers shouted.

　　“Yes.” Edward Clark nodded.

　　The usual meant one of each skewer, packed in two portions. He’d take one back to his dorm, and the other to the neighboring dorm. Although it looked like he was covering up some unspeakable motive, in reality, he just really liked barbecue. Even without the neighboring dorm, he could eat two portions himself—one slowly at night, one quickly in the morning.

　　He didn’t reply to the message on his phone. As usual, he never made a point of replying to every message.

　　Carrying the barbecue back to the dorm, he sped up, as always, darting past the dorm supervisor’s door.

　　Finally, as usual, he pushed open the door to the neighboring dorm.

　　All four people were there, turning their heads to look at him, glasses flashing with light.

　　Edward Clark pushed up his glasses as a greeting, then put the bag on the table by the door. “Just grilled.”

　　As he turned to leave, Brian Foster followed him out. “Hey.”

　　Edward Clark turned his head.

　　“Has anyone…” Brian Foster closed the dorm door, lowered his voice, “been rude to you? Said anything bad?”

　　“There are a few messages I haven’t read yet,” Edward Clark thought for a moment. His phone had gone off a lot today, but he hadn’t been in the mood to check it. “Why, were they all from you? Should I report you to the school for discrimination?”

　　“Bullshit,” Brian Foster laughed, but quickly stopped and frowned. “Don’t let those people get to you.”

　　“No one can get to me,” Edward Clark patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”

　　After Brian Foster closed the dorm door, Edward Clark went back to his own room.

　　There was suddenly a subtle change between the two of them, a little disheartening.

　　The others in the dorm had already come back from evening self-study and were hunched over their desks, starting a new battle.

　　When Adam Brooks came over to take the barbecue bag from him, Edward Clark sensed a bit of awkwardness in the air, but no one brought up the rooftop incident.

　　Their dorm usually didn’t discuss personal matters.

　　Of course, this fine tradition only formed after several group brawls.

　　So now, even something as public as coming out on the rooftop—if Edward Clark didn’t bring it up himself, the other three would never ask.

　　“My late-night fuel has arrived.” Adam Brooks opened the bag and started gnawing on a chicken gizzard skewer.

　　“From the same place?” Jason Reed also got up and came over, asking a question that was obviously just to ease the awkwardness.