Evan Clark trembled as he leaned into that solid, warm chest, like a drifting duckweed finally finding something to cling to in the wind.

He listened to the heartbeat so close by, his ears tingling and burning, as if this was the safest place in the whole world.

With a sense of security, fire burst forth in Evan Clark’s bloodshot eyes. Weakly, through gritted teeth, he said, “I can’t just let this go. I’m going to report Helen Turner, I want to…”

Brian Young froze.

He stroked Evan Clark’s back. “Little Clark, you’re too worked up right now. Don’t make decisions at a time like this.”

But Evan Clark couldn’t care about any of that anymore.

His migraine was acting up badly. Before Brian Young came back, he’d taken two pills, but the medicine still hadn’t kicked in. The pain and anger tormented him, making his whole body shake, cold sweat pouring down: “Why? This is my song, I can’t let her steal it and then frame me—”

Brian Young frowned, pushing him away and raising his voice slightly: “Little Clark, calm down and listen to me. You can’t report her.”

Evan Clark opened his mouth silently, looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

Brian Young sighed deeply. “…This whole thing, it was Little Ann who messed it up.”

Brian Young’s cousin Ann Young had gotten into a second-tier teachers’ college in the same city as her cousin a year and a half ago, and Third Uncle Young had entrusted her to Brian Young’s care.

She often came to Brian Young’s place for meals, was the first in the The Young Family to know about her cousin’s orientation, and had even used “keeping it secret” as an excuse to get Brian Young to treat her to several big meals.

The The Young Family family all had good looks, and Ann Young wasn’t bad either, with a fair, oval face. She liked music, enjoyed writing little tunes and songs, and posted them online. Her lyrics resonated with bright yet melancholy girls, earning her nearly ten thousand fans. She was quite proud of this, calling herself a talented woman.

But Evan Clark didn’t really like her.

Every time she came over, she’d pester Evan Clark about how much a song could sell for, or if he had any connections to sell songs. Evan Clark didn’t like this, always brushing her off, but Ann Young never seemed to notice, and would even act cute with Brian Young, saying, “Cousin, look, Little Clark has connections but won’t help me, so boring.”

Little Ann lived in a four-person dorm, and the other three girls were all locals. She didn’t want to fall behind, so she bought makeup and brand-name clothes.

With her spending, of course money was tight, so she often borrowed from Brian Young, who always lent her money without ever refusing, even going a whole month without daring to order meat at the company cafeteria because of it.

Evan Clark felt deeply sorry seeing this. That was when he started learning to cook.

Evan Clark stared blankly at Brian Young, confused: “…What are you saying?”

Brian Young said with some frustration, “Just now, right after I hung up your call, Little Ann called me. Do you remember? Last time when Mom, Dad, and Third Sister came to the city, you moved out. Her phone died, so she used mine to browse Taobao, and while scrolling, she accidentally opened the demo you wrote. She liked it a lot, asked if you wrote it, and kept praising you.”

Evan Clark’s eyes widened slightly.

Brian Young braced himself: “I didn’t think much of it at the time and said yes, you often write songs. She just acknowledged it and kept playing with the phone. I didn’t expect her to…”

Evan Clark finally understood, disbelief in his voice: “She stole my song to sell? And you just let her?”

“Don’t put it so harshly,” Brian Young said helplessly. “I didn’t know about this. Little Ann… she just liked your song. She told me she needed money and wanted to earn it herself, but her own songs weren’t good enough for companies, so she wanted to try submitting yours along with hers. She didn’t expect it to get picked, but all six songs sold at once. ‘Words from the Heart’ and ‘Autumn Thoughts’… were chosen by Helen Turner.”

“‘Just liked’?” Every nerve in Evan Clark’s body bristled. “She asked me what I planned to name my song, and I told her I’d already decided on ‘Words from the Heart’ for one of them.”

He grabbed his phone, lit up the screen, and showed Brian Young a line from Helen Turner’s album: “…Old Young, tell me, what is this?! She even copied the name? How is that not intentional?”

“…You’ve written so many random songs and never published them. She didn’t think you’d submit this one.” Brian Young’s tone was uncharacteristically stern as he reached out to hold Evan Clark’s wrist. “She never wanted things to get this out of hand. She was scared when she called me, even cried.”

Evan Clark thought numbly, Why is she crying.

Brian Young pleaded earnestly, “She knows she was wrong now. But she’s still young, you have to let her make mistakes. If you report her and this blows up, how will she face people at school? How will I explain to the family?”

It was as if a bucket of cold water was poured down Evan Clark’s back. He grabbed Brian Young, groaning in pain, “…What about me? What about me? How am I supposed to face people?”

Brian Young gently cupped Evan Clark’s face. “It’s okay, I believe you. Those people online don’t know the truth, they’re just arguing for nothing. As long as you unplug the internet, no one can hurt you.”

Evan Clark had always had a smooth life, never faced anything big, and now it felt like the world was collapsing. His mind was in chaos, and Brian Young’s certainty shook him: “…Really?”