He mumbled a greeting to Samuel Grant, walked over to stand between Brian Clark and Laura Bennett, bent down and whispered, “That guy doing the competition seems to have run into some trouble.”

Brian Clark grunted in response, reached out to pinch the foil tray of his egg tart, tilted his head back, and dumped the tart into his mouth.

Three seconds later, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and the egg tart vanished like a magic trick.

Laura Bennett: “?”

Did he just drink something?

Brian Clark snapped his fingers in front of Samuel Grant, “Take my plate away.”

“You still have one egg tart left.” Samuel Grant turned back. “Where are you going?”

Brian Clark casually put the second egg tart onto Laura Bennett’s plate. “See if there’s any trouble to meddle in.”

David Reed smiled, coaxing the restless Samuel Grant in a tone used for little girls: “Eat your food. You want to keep failing science too?”

Faye Young, who had been sitting with his head down as if already asleep, suddenly lifted his eyelids. “Where?”

“Behind the cafeteria, in that dead corner,” David Reed said. “Don’t follow, too many people and—”

He was cut off mid-sentence. Laura Bennett hadn’t really understood, but still instinctively looked toward the door.

At the cafeteria entrance stood three people. Two wore white T-shirts so messy it was hard to believe they were actually white, covered in swirling graffiti. One had a buzz cut, the other long hair. Their vibe was obvious at a glance—schoolyard punks, the kind you find all over the world.

The third was more unique. No one at Yingzhong wore the school uniform pants, and for good reason… one look at those pants and you’d understand. But this guy was wearing the full set—shirt and pants. His skin was dark, jacket zipped up to his chin, a bit of red sweater poking out at the collar, making the uniform look as unfashionable as possible.

The three shoved their way over, or more precisely, the long-haired one was pushing the uniformed guy along like spinning a top—every few steps, he’d give him another shove. The uniformed guy’s steps were quick and choppy, but he kept himself from straying outside the range of that arm, getting shoved forward again and again.

When they got close to the turnstile, he finally turned and asked, “What are we eating?”

His voice was hoarse and off-key. The long-haired guy didn’t say a word, just raised his hand and smacked him on the head!

With a loud “smack,” the wide T-shirt sleeve swung across his skull. It didn’t hurt much, but the humiliation was intense.

“Country mutt.” The long-haired guy kept slapping his head with his sleeve. “Didn’t they train you to shut up? Don’t you know your accent is grating?”

The one called “country mutt” didn’t dodge or make a sound, just raised his hand to point at the window, asking with his eyes.

The long-haired guy said, “Just eat whatever’s left. If it weren’t for having to deal with you—”

“Ahem.” The buzz-cut guy cleared his throat.

The long-haired guy glanced at a nearby staff member and changed his tune, “Shut up and get the food. Bring it over.”

The “country mutt” stayed silent, turned, and went to the window to get the food.

“Damn.” Samuel Grant slammed his chopsticks down and was about to get up.

Brian Clark reached out and pushed him back down. “Eat your food.”

“How can you just watch this? That guy’s the math whiz Old Ma recruited from Z Village, the one who’s supposed to do competitions with us.”

Faye Young poked at his scrambled eggs indifferently. “He’s not even in our class yet.”

Samuel Grant glared. “How can you say that?”

“The thing is, nothing’s actually happened yet. Wouldn’t it be awkward if you went over?”

Samuel Grant froze, then after a moment suddenly remembered and looked at David Reed, “You saw this outside already?”

David Reed glanced at Brian Clark. Brian Clark said nothing, his long fingers playing with the egg tart’s foil tray, as if he’d suddenly developed a deep interest in it.

Not far away, the “country mutt” had already gotten three meals—two piled high, and one with just some greens. When he swiped his card, he pulled a piece of floral cloth from his pocket, unfolded it several times, and revealed a temporary card just like Laura Bennett’s.

He looked perfectly calm, as if none of this mattered to him at all.

Laura Bennett snapped out of it, just in time to hear Brian Clark mumble a reply to Samuel Grant, “Can’t make the first move.”

David Reed added, “Guys, don’t go looking for trouble, got it?”

Samuel Grant nodded helplessly, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Our Douzi isn’t an ordinary guy—he’s got a million-strong army, gotta watch his image.”

“What?”

Laura Bennett’s chopsticks paused. He asked Brian Clark, “What million-strong army?”

“Oh,” Samuel Grant said with interest, “You didn’t know? He’s a top Bilibili uploader, just hit a million followers. You know Bilibili, right? It’s kind of like your YouTube abroad.”

Brian Clark was silent for two seconds. “Speaking of B, that reminds me—was the answer to the last math question B?”

“Huh? B?” Samuel Grant’s face fell instantly. “I hesitated between A, B, and C for ages and finally picked A.”

David Reed couldn’t help but laugh. “There were only four options, man.”

Laura Bennett couldn’t bring himself to smile.

Because he remembered yesterday at the airport convenience store, Brian Clark had been talking into his phone.

A vague sense of unease crept up on him.

There was basically no break at noon on exam day—by the time you shook off your food coma, it was time to go. Three minutes before the papers were handed out, Laura Bennett glanced at the empty seat next to him, planning to quickly run to the restroom.

The teaching building was a deep U-shape, and unfortunately, Class 4 was at one end of the U, while the boys’ restroom was at the other. Luckily, Samuel Grant said he could use the nearby staff restroom—since all the male teachers for the second-year group were at the other end, they never came over here.

Laura Bennett had just strolled to the entrance of the men’s room when he caught sight of a familiar tuft of long hair through the little window in the door.