She struggled to undo the buttons and put it on. The helmet was so big it covered her entire face, not even her eyes were visible.

Standing to the side, Jason Harris found it amusing. He reached out and lifted the helmet off Samuel Clark's head. Samuel Clark's face was flushed from being stifled, and she was now puffing her cheeks, taking deep breaths.

“Wait for me a second.” Jason Harris tossed out the words.

Jason Harris walked into the house, the voice-activated lights flicked on, and soon he came back out, holding a bright yellow helmet in his hand.

“Try this one.” Jason Harris handed the helmet to her.

This helmet was clearly a size smaller, and when Samuel Clark put it on, it fit perfectly. Wearing the bright yellow helmet, Samuel Clark's doe eyes were clear and bright, and on top of her head was a Marvel logo.

She, who was always so well-behaved, now looked a little fiercely cute.

Jason Harris glanced at her, unable to hide the smile on his face. Samuel Clark felt a bit strange and asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“This helmet was added by Ethan, he bought it when he was in sixth grade. Back then, he was Marvel’s number one fan.” Jason Harris's voice was low, tinged with laughter.

“I’m one sixty-five centimeters tall.” Samuel Clark defended herself in a small voice.

Just as Jason Harris was about to ride off, he felt something tugging at his pant leg. Turning around, he saw that his German Shepherd had somehow slipped out and followed him.

“Mind if I have a cigarette?” Jason Harris asked.

Samuel Clark nodded. She watched as Jason Harris walked to the base of the wall, fished a cigarette out of the pack, tapped it against the box, then bit it between his lips. He lowered his head, cupped his hands to light it, and smoke rolled from his thin lips.

The German Shepherd lay obediently at Jason Harris's feet. He took the cigarette from his mouth, squatted down, and patted its head with his large hand. The dog licked his palm in response.

The streetlight was dim, and Jason Harris's expression was relaxed. For a moment, the rebellious edge on his face completely vanished, and Samuel Clark saw gentleness there.

“What’s its name?” Samuel Clark couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s called Kratos, one of the ancient Greek gods of war.” Jason Harris said, cigarette dangling from his lips, smiling as a bit of ash fell to the ground at his feet.

But this easy atmosphere didn’t last long. The phone in Jason Harris's pocket started vibrating. He pulled it out and his expression instantly changed.

He didn’t answer, but the phone kept ringing persistently. Jason Harris finally picked up, not even bothering with pleasantries, his tone icy: “What is it?”

Mr. Harris was a bit displeased at being cut off, but forced down his anger: “Come home for dinner next week. It’s my birthday, the whole family can be together and happy…”

At the words “the whole family,” a shadow passed over Jason Harris's face, his brows and eyes darkening with hostility. He cut in directly: “I’m busy. Save your fatherly and filial moments for your son.”

Without waiting for a reply, Jason Harris hung up. He gestured for the dog to go back inside and stood up again. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under his shoe until the last ember went out.

Jason Harris rode his bike to take Samuel Clark back to school.

He was clearly in a bad mood. The wind howled past, and Samuel Clark, sitting on the back of the bike, couldn’t see Jason Harris's face, but she could tell from his whole demeanor that he was in a foul mood.

Jason Harris rode fast, leaning forward and accelerating all the way. The wind rushed past their ears, the scenery on both sides flying by like a movie on fast-forward.

Samuel Clark's heart was pounding in her throat. She had never ridden so fast before—nervous and scared. He went faster and faster, and soon everything in her field of vision was a blur.

She knew Jason Harris was venting, so she could only silently grip the bars on either side of the bike.

At last, Jason Harris seemed to have let out his frustration. Suddenly, he felt Samuel Clark behind him go completely stiff. Wearing his helmet, he glanced back and saw Samuel Clark's fingertips turning white from gripping the bars so tightly.

His heart skipped a beat, as if something had stung him.

Unconsciously, Jason Harris eased off the throttle and slowed down. Even he didn’t realize that this was an unintentional compromise.

As the speed dropped, Samuel Clark felt the tension in him slowly dissipate, and he returned to his usual nonchalant self. Summer had long since passed, and though the night breeze was a bit chilly, it felt pleasant.

Most of the ride was already behind them. Even though he had slowed down, Jason Harris could still sense Samuel Clark's unease. His deep voice came through the wind: “Are you afraid of me?”

“Ah, no,” Samuel Clark replied quickly.

It’s just that being with you makes me so nervous. I always want to say something to you, but I’m afraid you won’t like it, Samuel Clark thought to herself.

“Then why are you so stiff?” Jason Harris asked, emotionless. He squinted ahead. “It’s downhill now, hold on tight.”

That was his favorite stretch of road. It always felt like life was accelerating, but it belonged to him alone.

Samuel Clark carefully reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Jason Harris took her with him as they dove downhill. His back was broad, his shoulder blades especially prominent as he hunched forward. Samuel Clark caught the scent of smoke on him, mixed with a faint bitterness of basil—sharp and unique, slowly filling her senses.

A gust of evening wind blew by, messing up Samuel Clark's hair. A stray lock landed on the back of his neck, ambiguous and uncontrollable.