Evan Clark was pinched and jumped up, acting coy: "…Brother."

"Brother, brother, brother—being your brother is the worst luck ever." Jack Clark shoved his hands into his pockets. "Let’s skip the soy milk, then? If not Yonghe, let’s go to that porridge shop over there."

As he spoke, he glanced around casually and asked, "Where did you park the car?"

Evan Clark replied naturally, "He drove it to work. I came by bus."

Jack Clark was stunned for a moment, his eyes widening. Evan Clark immediately became alert, hugged his head, and darted five steps away.

Jack Clark really did want to give him a beating to teach him a lesson, but it was work hours and right in front of the company, and Mr. Clark cared about his image. So he strode over, hooked Evan Clark by the neck, and dragged him back into his arms: "What are you running for?"

Evan Clark thought he was about to get hit and shrank his neck in fear: "Bro, there are people, people."

Noticing the panic in his brother’s eyes, Jack Clark softened a little, loosening his grip on his shoulders.

Even so, as soon as he opened his mouth, he was merciless, sarcasm flowing out effortlessly: "Evan Clark, you’re something else, getting pretty skilled at keeping a pretty boy. Try a bit harder, earn yourself an apartment, get a set for each of life’s needs, and then he can handle the house while you work outside, he does embroidery, you farm the land, and you two can live happily ever after—how nice."

Evan Clark lowered his head: "Don’t say that, bro. He needs transportation for work, but I’m at home all day, I don’t need it."

Jack Clark was so angry he nearly fell over backward, but remembering Evan Clark said his stomach was upset, he held back his temper.

He dragged Evan Clark toward the porridge shop: "…What kind of porridge do you want? Century egg and lean pork, plain rice?"

"Century egg and lean pork porridge."

"Still picky, huh."

"Thanks, bro."

"Thank my ass. Century egg and lean pork, you wish. Your stomach’s upset, just drink millet porridge for me."

After a few spoonfuls of hot porridge, the whiteness in Evan Clark’s frozen face faded, and except for his still-reddened nose, his cheeks regained a rosy glow, looking especially pinchable.

Jack Clark took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and mixed a dish of vinegar for him: "So, what do you want from me?"

Before Evan Clark could answer, Jack Clark quickly said, "If it’s about him, do me a favor and don’t even start."

"It’s not about him… well, sort of." Evan Clark picked up a crab roe bun, looking troubled at Jack Clark’s words: "…Bro, can you not tell Mom and Dad about this?"

Jack Clark’s face was expressionless: "Depends."

Evan Clark dipped the bun in the vinegar, speaking softly: "Bro, do you have a spare apartment?"

Jack Clark’s eyebrow twitched: "…What are you planning?"

Evan Clark hurriedly waved his hands: "It’s not what you think, bro. I just want to borrow your place for a week, just me, no one else."

Jack Clark: "Did you two really have a fight?"

Evan Clark looked a bit down, biting the edge of the bun, mumbling, "No, it’s just that his parents are coming, and he wants me to avoid them for a bit."

Jack Clark slapped the table.

With a bang, half the people in the shop looked over.

Jack Clark couldn’t care less: "His parents still don’t know about you two?!"

Evan Clark froze, immediately speaking up to explain for Brian Young: "No, no. Old Young’s parents have been frugal all their lives, they definitely wouldn’t want to stay in a hotel. If I move out, it’s more convenient for them…"

"Is that what I asked? Cut the crap!" Jack Clark didn’t listen to Evan Clark’s explanation at all. "Just tell me, does he have any intention of letting you meet his parents?"

Evan Clark poked the bottom of his bowl with his spoon.

"…Still not made it clear?!"

"He’s not ready yet…"

"What, when does he plan to be ready? Wait until he’s married with kids or dead and buried?"

Evan Clark stayed silent, for once not defending that person.

Seeing his brother looking so dejected, Jack Clark suddenly softened, raising his hand as if to pat his head, but after hovering in midair for a moment, it turned into a not-too-hard slap on the back of his head, making Evan Clark shrink his neck.

Evan Clark said, "If it really doesn’t work, I can just stay in your office."

Jack Clark was impatient: "…Stop overthinking, just eat."

Evan Clark looked up: "Don’t let Mom and Dad know…"

"This mess of yours, it’s only a matter of time before they find out." Jack Clark was blunt. "You’d better pray for yourself."

With that, he took his phone and went out to find a place for Evan Clark to stay.

Little Ford quietly lowered his head, biting into a crab roe bun. The rich aroma of crab and the tang of aged vinegar filled his mouth, hot and a little scalding.

In his previous life, Evan Clark never came to Jack Clark for help, just crashed at a friend’s place for a week.

He always felt his family sheltered and controlled him too much, but he didn’t realize what he was losing was a fortress always willing to shield him from the storm.

While reviewing the original Evan Clark’s memories, Little Ford deliberately shifted the timeline forward a bit and saw Jack Clark coming abroad to handle his affairs after Evan Clark’s death.