That small city was in Europe, and it had legalized same-sex marriage more than a decade ago.

The Clark Family's actions could be considered a huge concession for their son.

The Clark Family had expected The Young Family to object and had prepared a whole arsenal of arguments, but after discussing it overnight, The Young Family agreed the very next day.

Evan Clark and Brian Young applied for immigration together.

In the second year abroad, Evan Clark's condition improved, and he was able to play the piano again. When he sat back down at the piano bench, he smiled like a child: “Old Yang, what do you want to hear? I’ll play it for you.”

That year, they got their marriage certificate and held a simple wedding in a church.

In the third year, Brian Young's career made great progress, and he suggested helping his parents immigrate. Evan Clark agreed.

In the fourth year, Brian Young became busier and busier. One day when he came home, Evan Clark noticed that the shirt he was wearing wasn’t the one he’d worn out the day before.

Evan Clark started taking medication again.

He didn’t know how to ask Brian Young, and he didn’t want to know the answer. As for The Young Family, they were always distant with him—not bad, but not good either. Even though they lived under the same roof, they barely exchanged a couple of words a day.

Brian Young was too busy, and Evan Clark stayed in a house with two elderly people he couldn’t talk to, feeling unbearably lonely.

But he didn’t want his parents to worry about how he was doing. Every time he called them, he forced the brightest smile and said, “I’m doing great, don’t worry about me.”

In truth, he wasn’t doing great at all.

After his illness relapsed, he often thought about dying, but didn’t dare to, afraid of letting his parents down, afraid of hurting Brian Young. So he tried hard to keep living, tried hard to pull himself out of the mire.

He wasn’t afraid of being covered in mud himself; he was only afraid of accidentally dirtying the people he cared about.

Until one day, when Brian Young was on vacation, Evan Clark planned to drive to the supermarket two kilometers away to buy groceries. Because he forgot his wallet, he turned back, and accidentally overheard a conversation between Young Mother and Son at the kitchen door.

Mrs. Young complained, “You don’t know, Little Clark is like a cricket with its mouth sewn shut. If he says five words in two days, I’d be grateful.”

After so many years, Brian Young still spoke in that gentle tone: “Little Clark doesn’t like to talk, Mom, don’t be mad at him.”

Evan Clark lowered his head in embarrassment.

…Actually, he used to be quite talkative.

Thinking this, he tiptoed over to grab his wallet from the table. Just as he turned around, he heard Mrs. Young say behind him, “Our family’s immigration visas are ready. When are you going to leave him?”

Evan Clark: “……”

His neck stiffened so much he couldn’t turn it, and he stood there with his head down, staring blankly at a spot on the floor, waiting for Brian Young's answer.

Brian Young was silent.

Evan Clark felt as if that silence was strangling him, making it impossible to breathe.

Mrs. Young continued, “Being with a man, you can’t have kids, that’s just not right. Your dad and I lied to our relatives, told them you went abroad for work, and everyone praised you for being successful. The other day your uncle called, asked your dad to bring back some foreign cigarettes and liquor, and asked about you—asked if you’d found a foreign wife and had a foreign baby. How am I supposed to answer that?!”

Evan Clark was shaken all over by those words, as if stabbed by knives, his stomach twisting in pain.

He bent over slightly, hugging his waist that had grown as thin as a sheet of paper, pressing hard against it.

“A foreign wife, could you handle that?” After a long pause, Brian Young's gentle voice sounded again. “Recently, a new girl joined our company, she’s Chinese. I get along well with her.”

Mrs. Young, satisfied, then thought of another problem: “How do you plan to tell Little Clark?”

This time, Brian Young was silent even longer.

Evan Clark didn’t get to hear Brian Young's answer, but he also didn’t let Brian Young struggle for too long.

That night, in the music room, he slit his own wrist with an art knife.

Because of this, Little Ford’s initial idea of running over Brian Young with a car was actually sincere.

Brian Young liked Evan Clark, but it was only just “like.”

Affection score: 72 points, 13 points short of passing, worth only a card, a single firework.

Little Ford went home with Brian Young.

The living room was playing city news, and occasionally the sound of Brian Young making or answering calls could be heard.

Little Ford changed into loungewear, went to the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, and washed the dishes that had piled up in the sink for two days.

When relaxed, Little Ford always wore a nonchalant expression. Standing in front of the sink clogged with food scraps, his eyelids drooped, letting the water run over his long, fair fingers. His whole body exuded a lazy calm and a natural air of nobility, which matched Young Master Clark's status perfectly.

But his dishwashing technique was surprisingly skilled, nothing like someone who’d never done chores before.

The system asked him, “You know how to wash dishes?”

Little Ford replied earnestly, “I can cook, too.”

The system didn’t believe him—after all, whenever Little Ford acted serious, he was usually up to something.

Because the next second, with a straight face, he asked, “By the way, is there any rat poison in the storage room?”

The system answered flatly, “No.”

At this point, it was seriously starting to suspect that Little Ford was so enthusiastic about housework just to scope out the crime scene.

Little Ford said, “Just asking.”

The system replied expressionlessly, “…Oh.”