Walking to the doorway, Eric stopped, turned back and asked, “By the way, Adam, is there any rat poison in the main storage?”

Adam’s eyebrows jumped. “Huh?”

Eric coughed. “…I was just asking.”

Little Ford slept through the night, while the system watched movies all night.

When the effect of the hypnosis card wore off, Little Ford woke up right on time.

The system checked the time. “It’s only five o’clock, it’s not even light out yet. Go back to sleep for a while.”

Little Ford got out of bed, leaving Brian Young alone, and went to sit on the piano bench in the living room. “Once I’m awake, I can’t fall back asleep.”

With this piano, the already small living room felt even more cramped.

Little Ford stroked the piano lid absentmindedly, lost in thought.

The system took the initiative to speak to him: “There’s no rat poison in the main storage.”

Little Ford lifted the piano lid. “…You still remember that? I was just joking.”

He silently caressed the black and white keys, feeling the creative urge and endless inspiration left within him—unique treasures belonging to Evan Clark, all stripped away by Brian Young, who then casually complained they were too much of a burden.

“One dose of rat poison and it’d all be over—too easy for him,” Little Ford said. “If he doesn’t experience everything Evan Clark went through himself, wouldn’t that be too unfair?”

When Brian Young woke up, he originally wanted to cuddle with Evan Clark for a while, but he got up a bit late and didn’t have time for any more intimacy. He just gave Evan Clark a quick hug and left with his laptop.

Before leaving, he took the new car keys and said, “I have to meet with the client at noon, so you don’t need to bring me lunch. I’ll bring groceries back tonight and buy your favorite marinated chicken liver. Oh, and don’t forget to eat breakfast.”

Brian Young’s good point was that he was truly gentle—he never got angry at Evan Clark.

During the years when Evan Clark was depressed, he still spoiled Evan Clark with endless patience, as if nothing could ever truly make him angry.

—To put it bluntly, as long as Evan Clark’s interests didn’t conflict with his family’s, he could stay this gentle forever.

As soon as Brian Young left, Little Ford followed out the door.

He had already checked the route in advance and got on the bus to Jack Clark’s company.

Evan Clark really did get motion sickness on buses. The bumpy ride made him feel awful, clutching the handrail and unable to speak.

As soon as the bus arrived at the stop, he rushed off, grabbed the nearest trash can, and dry-heaved, his little face turning pale as a sheet.

The system wanted to help him adjust, but suddenly thought of something and only helped lower his heart rate to ease the internal discomfort.

Little Ford finally managed to straighten up, wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes, took out his phone, and, facing the building occupied entirely by the Cheng Corporation, dialed a number. His eyes were red, his face pale, but he forced a smile: “…Bro, it’s me. Can you come down for a bit?”

Chapter 6: The Genius Cannon Fodder’s Counterattack (Six)

Ten minutes later, a man in a light gray wool suit coat appeared downstairs at the company.

His younger brother Evan Clark was huddled in a short down jacket, the tip of his nose and the bit of neck exposed outside both pale and pink, his eyes rimmed red, looking like he’d been frozen badly.

Jack Clark frowned, a bit annoyed, and reached up to loosen the wool scarf around his neck.

Soon, the warmth carrying a hint of men’s cologne wrapped around Evan Clark.

But Evan Clark restlessly stretched his neck. “It’s stifling.”

Jack Clark glared. “If you dare take it off, I’ll beat you.”

Evan Clark’s legs trembled and he immediately behaved.

Jack Clark really would beat people.

At the age of seven or eight, when even dogs disliked him, Evan Clark was much more delicate than other kids. The reason was that whenever he misbehaved as a child, his brother would grab whatever was at hand and give him a violent lesson, training him to be obedient and soft.

With a domineering father and brother and a weak mother, it was no wonder that after meeting the gentle Brian Young, Evan Clark fell head over heels and wouldn’t look back no matter who tried to pull him away.

Without another word, Jack Clark grabbed Evan Clark’s hand. The icy coldness made his expression even worse.

He alternated pulling off his gloves and tossed them into Evan Clark’s arms, mocking, “Is he so poor now? Can’t even afford gloves?”

Evan Clark tucked the scarf down to reveal his mouth.

He explained, “I just don’t like wearing them.”

That was true—Evan Clark didn’t like wearing scarves or gloves, especially scarves. After a while, they made him feel stifled.

Evan Clark wanted to say more, but as soon as he met Jack Clark’s eyes, he chickened out.

“Go on, keep talking,” Jack Clark sneered. “I say one thing about him, and you can argue ten. You really have no ambition—pick up a… stone and you’ll treat it like a treasure.”

Playing Evan Clark, Little Ford took a moment to whisper to the system, “I suspect he was about to say dung ball.”

The system thought Little Ford was absolutely right.

The fact that Jack Clark swallowed his words showed he didn’t want to fall out with Evan Clark right from the start.

He looked at the redness under Evan Clark’s eyes and the still-wet traces at the edge of his lashes. “…Did you have a fight with him?”

Evan Clark was a size smaller than Jack Clark, and could warm both hands inside one of Jack Clark’s gloves. “No, just my stomach’s a bit upset.”

Jack Clark: “Didn’t eat breakfast?”

Evan Clark smiled. “Dieting.”

“Diet my ass.” Jack Clark pinched his waist. “You’re skinny as a stick—does that look good?!”