“Mm.” Edward Clark responded. He didn’t feel uncomfortable at all; instead, he felt a bit guilty that his roommates were being so cautious around him.

Usually, when he brought barbecue back to the dorm, Adam Brooks and the others had to fight for it, otherwise none of them could out-eat Edward Clark.

This guy could eat half of everything even in a 1v3.

But today, Edward Clark was clearly not very hungry. He only ate about a third of a bag of barbecue before washing up and lying back down on his bed.

He didn’t plan to hide his emotions either—if he was feeling down, then so be it. There was no point in forcing himself to put on an act for these guys in the dorm. After three years together, who didn’t know each other by now?

Adam Brooks and the others didn’t bother him. Seizing this rare opportunity, they polished off all the barbecue.

Then the dorm quickly returned to calm. Except for Edward Clark, everyone else went back to their desks. Since the lights weren’t turned off in senior year, they usually stayed up until midnight. Sometimes, when Edward Clark got up at three or four in the morning to use the bathroom, he’d still see Jason Reed’s lamp on.

In the quiet atmosphere of late-night studying, Edward Clark’s phone chimed.

He rolled over, grabbed his phone, switched it to vibrate, and opened his messages.

It was a friend request. The profile picture was pretty ordinary—after all, more than half of the avatars in the crowd were various anime characters.

But the content of the friend request was anything but ordinary.

- Trash pervert

It took Edward Clark two or three seconds to process those four words.

He was being insulted.

He frowned, ignored it, and glanced at the next few friend requests. There were quite a few today, all in a row.

Aside from three normal requests that included class and name, there were four or five more.

- Didn’t expect you to be so disgusting

- Wanna hook up?

- Useless trash, watch yourself

……

Edward Clark didn’t bother reading the rest in detail. There were a lot of messages today, and apparently, they were all like this.

It was a bit surprising.

Some teenagers these days really express their likes and dislikes so bluntly.

When Brian Foster asked him earlier, he thought Brian Foster was just overthinking. Now it seemed he must have heard something bad.

Edward Clark tossed his phone aside, grabbed a workbook from the desk, and started reading with his arm as a pillow.

Adam Brooks reached over and turned on the desk lamp for him. “Do you think you’re so cool just because you have the mildest nearsightedness in our dorm?”

“Yeah,” Edward Clark said. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Not cool at all,” Adam Brooks replied. “You don’t even read books and you’re still nearsighted—that’s just tragic.”

Edward Clark laughed. “I do read, how could I not?”

“Read my ass.” Eric Bennett grabbed the big glass jar next to him, took a sip of the honeysuckle tea his grandma made, listened to the chair creak, and placed a piece on the chessboard in front of him.

“I’ve never seen a student like you. Even when I was in school, I wasn’t as careless as you,” David Reed frowned at the chessboard. “How did you even get into high school?”

Eric Bennett smiled. “Back in the day…”

“Check!” David Reed suddenly waved his hand, raised his voice, and slammed a piece onto the board. Smack!

The jar of honeysuckle tea in Eric Bennett’s hand almost went flying from the shock.

“It’s just Gomoku, do you have to get so into it?” He glanced at David Reed, put down the jar, picked up a white piece, and gently placed it on the board. “I win.”

David Reed stared at the three straight lines on the board, stunned for a while. “How is that even possible?”

“Anything’s possible,” Eric Bennett clapped his hands. “Wanna play again?”

“No way!” Mr. Brooks, who had been squatting nearby smoking, answered immediately. “You two have been playing Gomoku all afternoon, isn’t that enough? Give it a rest! If you want to play, draw it on paper. I’m waiting to play Go here! Mr. Thompson will be here any minute.”

“Mr. Brooks,” Eric Bennett waved at David Reed, signaling him to give up his seat, then turned to Mr. Brooks. “Grandpa Li isn’t here yet. How about you and I play first?”

Mr. Brooks immediately furrowed his brow, hesitating without saying anything.

David Reed couldn’t help but laugh on the side.

Mr. Brooks used to be the chess king of the nearby alleys, winning championship after championship at the local Go tournaments, where amateur players would fill every available space with pieces until there was no room left.

Until Eric Bennett showed up.

Back then, Eric Bennett, a middle schooler who only watched them play for a month, ended Mr. Brooks’s reign as chess king.

As long as Eric Bennett was sitting across from him, Mr. Brooks never won again.

When Eric Bennett went back to the world of Gomoku, Mr. Brooks was overjoyed—he almost wanted to present a banner in celebration.

“Hey, Mr. Thompson! You’re finally here! Hurry up!” Mr. Brooks suddenly waved across the street. “Come on!”

Eric Bennett looked back—sure enough, Grandpa Li had arrived. He smiled, took a sip of tea, hugged the big glass jar, and stood up. “Pengpeng, want to eat at my place?”

“Which place?” David Reed asked.

“My grandma’s.” Eric Bennett said.

“Let’s go.” David Reed clapped his hands.

“Come on, get going,” Grandpa Li walked over. “If you stay here, you’ll distract your Mr. Brooks.”

“It’s not that bad.” Mr. Brooks said.

“Then I…” Eric Bennett immediately stopped and turned his head.

“Go.” Mr. Brooks said.