"Not bad, upper bunk and lower desk, all the facilities are pretty new," David Reed said. "603 and the water room are on either side, but since you guys are only half-occupying the dorm, it doesn't really matter."

Back at the dorm, Brian Clark had already returned and was sitting on the bed playing with his phone, with the corner of a plastic bag peeking out from the bed's edge.

As soon as David Reed saw him, he asked, "So, what's up with George Walker?"

"Not much, just had me talk about what I saw in the cafeteria at lunch yesterday. Anyway, Jack Harris isn't stupid," Brian Clark explained casually, glanced up at Laura Bennett, and patted the bed next to him. "The dorm supervisor auntie brought new sheets."

He had a box of cookies by his side, and after speaking, he tossed a stack into his mouth and started chewing.

Laura Bennett asked offhandedly, "Do you always record the sound of yourself eating?"

David Reed turned around, puzzled. "What did he record?"

"Nothing," Brian Clark said immediately. "David Reed, hand me a tissue."

David Reed responded with an "oh," grabbed a pack of tissues, and tossed it over.

Laura Bennett didn't pay much attention, stepped up two stairs to make his bed. The buttery smell was very tempting, and he couldn't help but glance at the plastic bag on Brian Clark's bed.

On the bag were five red characters: "小叶子西点" (Little Leaf Pastry). Inside, besides the butter cookies, there was also a box of strawberry daifuku—six cute little balls in total, with semi-translucent glutinous rice skin wrapped around a cream filling, packed in the same kind of plastic box as last time's dirty buns.

Brian Clark quickly finished chewing the cookies, just pried open the box of strawberry daifuku, and looked up to meet Laura Bennett's gaze, pausing for a moment.

After a second, he pushed the box toward Laura Bennett. "Want one?"

David Reed exclaimed in surprise, "That's rare! You, the food hoarder, are actually sharing?"

Food hoarder?

Laura Bennett mulled over the term, half-understanding, and suddenly remembered Brian Clark's WeChat Moments status—"Not sharing."

Brian Clark shook the box of pink treats. "So, do you want one or not?"

Laura Bennett hesitated for a moment but finally gave in to hunger, reached out and picked one up. "Thanks."

The strawberry daifuku was excellent.

The glutinous rice skin was thin and springy, the strawberry inside was sweet and tart and chilled, perfectly blending with the delicate, sweet cream.

The only pity was that it was a bit too small.

David Reed looked up from below and said, "Give me one too."

Brian Clark, scrolling on his phone, replied, "I might not have enough."

"Tch," David Reed laughed and kicked his bed ladder. "A leopard can't change its spots!"

Laura Bennett wiped his hands with a tissue and continued unpacking the sheets.

Brian Clark asked David Reed offhandedly, "What did you guys have for lunch?"

David Reed climbed onto his bed as he replied, "Pork rib stew. It's all Jack Harris's fault for holding us up for two minutes, we couldn't even find seats together."

Brian Clark just said, "Oh."

Laura Bennett finished making his bed just as the lunch break bell rang. David Reed put in his earplugs and went to sleep, and Laura Bennett lay down and closed his eyes too.

Brian Clark was still quietly playing on his phone in bed. After a while, Laura Bennett's phone suddenly buzzed.

A new WeChat message arrived.

-RJJSD: You don't eat spicy food?

Laura Bennett was taken aback.

He quickly ran through the past couple of days' conversations in his mind and was sure he hadn't mentioned not eating spicy food to anyone.

The only possible giveaway was yesterday at lunch, when among the two meat and one veggie dishes left in the cafeteria, there was a chicken dish with chili peppers that he hadn't touched.

Laura Bennett hesitated, then replied with a simple "Mm."

-RJJSD: Unbelievable, Samuel Grant is like a ZZ.

-文艺复兴: What's ZZ?

-RJJSD: ...Wise guy.

Laura Bennett was a bit confused and sent over a question mark.

Brian Clark didn't reply.

After a while, there was a soft clang from the iron railing above.

Then came the restrained rustle of a plastic box, and a good-looking hand poked the box of strawberry daifuku over, inch by inch, from the other side of the railing.

His phone buzzed again.

-RJJSD: For you, our picky little overseas returnee, to fill your stomach.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

-RJJSD: Hush money, don't tell my mom about the fight.

Laura Bennett: "..."

Did this guy forget he already paid hush money last night?

With that tattered sycamore leaf blown in by the wind.

Chapter 8: Sheep Intestine Alley

On the way to the classroom in the afternoon, Laura Bennett noticed that Brian Clark was limping a bit.

And it was a weird limp—sometimes on the left foot, sometimes on the right. Limping on flat ground, but not on the stairs. Limping when he saw a teacher, but not when he saw classmates.

Back at his seat, he finally couldn't help but ask, "What's up with your foot?"

Brian Clark was totally calm. "Forgot about the tailbone thing. Jack Harris asked me at lunch if I was better, so I have to keep up the act for two days."

"..."

All the teachers were grading papers, so the afternoon classes were all self-study. The class monitor, Crystal Ford, announced that the annual ranking would be out tomorrow.

Amidst a chorus of groans, Samuel Grant leaned back toward him. "Lan, I just thought of something—can your British stomach handle spicy food?"

"Not really," Laura Bennett said, flipping through his textbook. "Let's not order pork rib stew anymore."

Samuel Grant let out an "ah." "Sorry about that. Are you hungry now? I have some bread."

"It's fine," Laura Bennett said, head down, writing. "I had a box of snacks from Brian Clark at lunch."

"That's good," Samuel Grant breathed a sigh of relief.

A few seconds later, he suddenly turned to look at Brian Clark.

Brian Clark was propping his head up with one hand. "What?"

"You shared your food with him?!"