Brian Clark let out a snort, picked up a piece, and set the box on the nightstand. “I’ll give you one. Happy birthday, and may you be safe and well every year.”

He shuffled back to the next room in his slippers, raising his foot to kick the door shut.

The sign that Helen Carter had just flipped over was turned back again, now reading “Closed for the day.”

Laura Bennett stared at the sign for a while before closing the door.

The phone was the previous model, top configuration, still in excellent condition—seemed a bit wasteful to retire it.

Data sync was estimated to take an hour and a half. He set the phone aside, his gaze falling on the plastic box next to it.

Layers of cocoa powder and chocolate sauce were stacked enticingly under the light, making the luxurious noodles from dinner seem like nothing in comparison.

He’d settled in, accepted the phone—what was there left to fuss about?

He grabbed a napkin, used it to pick up the bread.

The chocolate was indeed rich—bittersweet, filling, and satisfying.

Laura Bennett stared at the data progress bar, unconsciously finishing the bread, then wiped the crumbs off the table, planning to take a shower first.

As soon as he turned on the bathroom light, a handsome face appeared in the mirror, looking like a ghostly mess.

“Oh my...”

His entire mouth was pitch black.

“...”

Laura Bennett stared blankly, pressing his lips tightly together in the mirror.

At one in the morning, the phone finally finished restoring data from the cloud. Laura Bennett set the system language to Chinese and downloaded WeChat to register an account.

He racked his brain for a nickname—at first he wrote “Renaissance,” but then checked the dictionary and changed it to the Chinese characters “文艺复兴.”

No profile picture for now.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated.

A little red “1” lit up in the chat list.

—“RJJSD” from “People Nearby” has greeted you, leaving the message “Brian Clark.”

He didn’t recognize either character, but the profile picture was a bean, and Helen Carter seemed to call Brian Clark that, so it was probably the neighbor.

Wasn’t business supposed to be closed for the day?

“You are now friends. Start chatting!”

The chat box was dead silent. No one said anything. Ten minutes of silence.

Laura Bennett casually tapped into his Moments. Content was set to be visible for only three days—completely empty. The background photo was a plane tree shot from below, with a two-character signature at the bottom.

“Not giving.”

Laura Bennett looked for a while, then exited. The chat box was still blank.

Was business really over?

He thought for a bit, followed the prompts to link his card, found the transfer function, and tried sending 3999 over.

The orange envelope lasted only two seconds before quickly turning gray.

It showed “Received.”

“...”

Looks like business was over, but finance was still online.

*

*

The next day, Class 24 of the British-Chinese Main Building got a hot scoop.

Samuel Grant burst into the classroom with smoke trailing behind him, and with a shout, silenced the chattering students moving their desks for the exam.

“A handsome guy went into Jack Harris’s office with Brian Clark!”

The class fell silent. After a moment, the room exploded. “What handsome guy?”

“With Brian Clark?”

“Did they just run into each other or were they walking arm in arm?”

Samuel Grant spread his hands. “Not arm in arm, but they kept a bit of distance. Still, didn’t look like a coincidence, you know?”

Everyone below nodded vigorously.

Samuel Grant squeezed past the students in the aisle, jogging over to the class monitor David Reed. “Did Bean say anything? Did he get into a fight?”

Class monitor David Reed was tall and thin, wearing silver-framed glasses, with a row of bottled coffees lined up on his desk.

“He didn’t say.”

“Ah, come on—”

The boy sitting behind David Reed glanced at Samuel Grant with droopy eyes. “You still have time to gossip? The test starts in ten minutes. Move your desk.”

“Coming.” Samuel Grant pulled his small desk out half a meter, but couldn’t help glancing back at the rear door, raising his eyebrows. “Brian Clark’s here—wait, the handsome guy’s here too!”

The whole class whipped their heads around, over forty pairs of eyes staring out the door.

Standing at the back door, Laura Bennett suddenly felt a chill down his spine. He turned around to see forty owl-like death stares.

His knees nearly buckled.

The grade director for the second year was named Jack Harris—stern expression, cold tone, clothes and hair perfectly neat, exuding a kind of difficult aura recognizable to both Chinese and Westerners.

She cleared her throat at the back door, and over forty pairs of eyes instantly snapped back, everyone sitting up straight and facing forward.

Laura Bennett thought he heard Brian Clark give a low chuckle beside him.

He turned to look, only to see Brian Clark’s expression calm, meeting his gaze as if nothing had happened.

Jack Harris said, “I’ve explained the basics to you. Today is the placement test. Brian Clark told you, right?”

Laura Bennett nodded.

“The school doesn’t know your level yet. There’s quite a difference between the UK and here. This test is for class placement, to separate students into tiers, so it’s pretty tough. Just do your best,” Jack Harris said. “Results will be out in about three days. Even if you end up in another class, three days is enough to get used to the environment.”

Laura Bennett understood part of it and nodded again.