“Mm.” Andrew Stone nodded.

Eric Bennett picked an easy one: “Explain this problem to me.”

Andrew Stone regained a bit of energy. After explaining the problem to him, he finished the cake on the table.

Eric Bennett had no intention of helping him; he had just heard that at No. 8 High School, someone went crazy before the exam and stabbed their deskmate seven or eight times.

And Andrew Stone was a rectangular hulk, 196 cm tall and weighing 196 kg.

This was a form of self-preservation.

Every day has the same number of hours, but how long it feels can be very different.

For example, today, even though he was at school as usual, time passed especially quickly, because he would be going back to “his own home” tonight. If time had legs, he would have rushed over and grabbed it to make it go faster.

Actually, last semester he was still living on campus, which was quite comfortable, but his dad thought he was getting too comfortable and forced him to move out of the dorm and come home.

Most of the time, as soon as he opened the door, he could smell the aroma of food and see his parents’ smiles. It was pretty nice.

Just not comfortable.

Eric Bennett hadn’t spent much time with the two of them; at best, they were barely familiar strangers, especially in the past two years, when they weren’t even that.

He’d see them maybe once during the New Year, but the younger the child, the less their memory lasts, so by the next time, he’d already forgotten.

“You’re back,” his mom called out from the dining room, then turned to the housekeeper, “Ms. Reed, set the dishes on the table.”

Eric Bennett tossed his backpack onto the sofa and went to wash his hands.

All the dishes on the table were his favorites: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, five-spice duck, steamed meat patties, and pork rib soup. Every time he came home, these were the main dishes, with one or two others rotating in.

This menu hadn’t changed for two or three years, ever since his parents returned to China and asked his grandma what he liked to eat.

Sometimes Eric Bennett couldn’t quite understand their logic.

Even if he liked these dishes, after two or three years, he was about ready to be sick of them.

But when asked what he liked to eat, he couldn’t say.

He wasn’t picky and had no dietary restrictions.

For him, there wasn’t any dish he especially loved, had to eat, or that could improve their relationship if he ate it. He was just used to his grandma’s cooking.

“Is it good?” his mom asked.

“Yeah, it’s good.” Eric Bennett nodded.

“Did you go to school today?” his dad asked.

“I did.” Eric Bennett replied, burying his head in his food, catching a glimpse of both of them visibly relaxing.

“You still need to focus,” his dad said. “I called your Mr. Hill. You’ve skipped too many classes lately, and your grades have been dropping on every test…”

“Mm.” Eric Bennett responded cooperatively, hoping this positive attitude would cut his dad off.

But it didn’t work.

“You’ve always been smart,” his dad continued, “always recognized as a smart kid… Of course, your grades aren’t bad compared to others, but you could do even better, you…”

Eric Bennett scooped two spoonfuls of scrambled eggs with tomatoes into his bowl, mixed it with rice, and quickly finished eating. He put down his bowl and stood up.

“Where are you going?” his mom asked.

“Reviewing.” Eric Bennett walked to the sofa and picked up his backpack.

“You’re in a mood again,” his dad said.

“Let the kid finish eating before you start,” Ms. Reed sighed. “We never talk about the kids at the table, or they can’t eat well.”

“He only listens to us for a few minutes while eating,” his mom sighed too. “Grandpa and grandma aren’t as naggy as us, and look how he turned out…”

As Eric Bennett walked into his room, he suddenly slammed the door shut with extra force.

He stood behind the door for a moment, then sat down at his desk.

He had been a bit slack lately. He rubbed his stomach—he’d eaten too fast and felt a bit stuffed.

But slacking off was normal for him. Every so often, he’d feel too tired, and except for playing, nothing else interested him.

So his grades always fluctuated wildly; he was pretty reckless.

He lacked perseverance, wasn’t focused enough, and didn’t have efficient study methods.

He was careless and didn’t want to change.

All in all, he didn’t think he was that smart, and he hated being called smart—he didn’t deserve that word at all.

…Time to review.

He took a set of science practice tests out of his backpack, lay down on the desk, and started working on them with his arms as a pillow.

“You’re not even eating in the cafeteria today?” Adam Brooks looked at Edward Clark. “You’re getting wilder and wilder.”

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Edward Clark pressed his temples. “I’m going out for a walk, and maybe get something good to eat.”

“Remember to bring some back,” Adam Brooks immediately reminded him.

“I might be back early today,” Edward Clark said. “No barbecue this time.”

“We freeloaders aren’t picky. As long as there’s food, it’s fine,” Adam Brooks said.

Edward Clark smiled.

A few days ago, when he went to the little park, he saw a really cute shop across the street called “Even Dogs Come.” He was too lazy to cross the street, so he didn’t go.

Today, he planned to stroll over and check it out. Maybe there’d be something tasty, and after eating, his headache would be gone.

Maybe there’d even be some dogs to pet.

Edward Clark headed to the little park, full of anticipation.