He, on the other hand, takes leave at the drop of a hat—sometimes disappearing for a month or two at a time. Last year, he even took a break from school. No one knows if it’s because of poor health or just a dislike for studying. But it’s strange—he does really well in every exam he takes.

Edward Harris finished reading the message, then looked up, unconsciously glancing in Eric Wright’s direction. He was leaning against the back of his chair, wiping water from the side of his face with a tissue, staring intently at the screen, his eyes very large.

The burning flames in the movie reflected on his face, casting an ambiguous red over his overly pale features.

[Business-William Thompson: I heard he doesn’t like this major. Apparently, he applied to transfer in his freshman year, and it was even approved, but in the end he didn’t go through with it. I don’t get it—maybe that’s just the young master’s willfulness.]

[Edward Harris: Young master?]

[Business-William Thompson: I heard from others that he was born at the finish line—his family’s got power and money. I’m not sure, just overheard it, but his background is pretty solid. Who knows if he actually got into T University on his own.]

This kind of speculation directly contradicted what William Thompson had just said, Edward Harris thought.

If he’s done well in every exam he’s taken, then he can’t be someone who got into school through connections.

Even though those are exactly the kind of people he despises most.

There are all kinds of people in this world, and from the moment you’re born, it’s like you’re part of a gamble you can never turn back from. The game isn’t fair—some people are dealt a good hand from the start, while others get nothing but bad cards, and still have to play them.

His phone vibrated again.

[Business-William Thompson: Oh, and there’s something really funny. This guy… he looks pretty good, but the weird thing is, it’s not just girls who confess to him—a lot of guys do too. You know that anonymous confession wall, right?]

Edward Harris replied that he didn’t; he simply didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

William Thompson found it unbelievable and laughed.

[Business-William Thompson: No way, you’re a regular on there! I feel like it’s just you and Wright young master. Oh, and that new freshman in your School of Information, Computer Science Department, the quiet one surnamed Xia—his military training photos are everywhere.]

Edward Harris remembered that freshman—he’d been the one to welcome him. But right now, all he could think about was Eric Wright, even without looking at him.

[Business-William Thompson: Forget the anonymous confession wall—young master was chased by a guy from the School of Humanities for months, practically stalked, almost got cornered in the men’s bathroom. I just don’t get it—what’s so attractive about him?]

Edward Harris locked his screen and didn’t continue the conversation. William Thompson didn’t bring up Eric Wright again, just chatted about random things, like how his phone screen was so shattered and he still hadn’t replaced it.

But Edward Harris’s attention had already completely shifted.

In the dimly lit AV room, Eric Wright sat alone in the last row, looking isolated from everyone else—very quiet, very focused.

He had a face that was hard to forget.

Edward Harris used to think he’d never use words like “pretty” or “beautiful” to describe a man, but now he had to correct himself—Eric Wright could be described that way.

All those thoughts spun out from gossip left Edward Harris unable to focus on the movie.

It wasn’t until the film ended and the quiet discussions began that he snapped back to reality, going through the motions with the other club members, collecting feedback cards from them.

Maybe out of some subconscious impulse, Edward Harris walked toward the row where Eric Wright was sitting, collecting cards from the front row back. He kept a smile on his face, looking sunny and friendly enough.

When he finally stood next to Eric Wright, he saw a book on his desk, apparently just taken from the nearby shelf.

“Hey, have you finished your feedback card?”

Eric Wright looked up, meeting his gaze, his eyes innocent. “I haven’t.”

His voice was pleasant, with a slight upward lilt at the end, sounding completely harmless.

Only then did Edward Harris suddenly remember, “Sorry, I forgot you arrived late. I’ll get you a card now.”

He turned to head to the podium, but unexpectedly, Eric Wright reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“Wait a second.”

Edward Harris turned back, first glancing down at the hem being held, then looking up at Eric Wright.

Eric Wright let go and laughed. “You move way too fast.”

Seeing him open the book in front of him, Edward Harris realized there was a tissue tucked inside.

“Here.” He handed the tissue with writing on it to Edward Harris, his smiling eyes very cute. “This is my feedback card.”

“Thank you.” The soft tissue was still a bit damp, just like him—misty and wet. The ballpoint pen writing on it was neat and clear.

Edward Harris quickly caught the content written on it.

[Really liked the wind in the movie.]

“You’re welcome.” Eric Wright’s tone was gentle.

One by one, people left the AV room, until only a few remained.

This time, after taking the tissue, Edward Harris didn’t leave right away. He couldn’t say why—he just unconsciously lingered for a moment, until William Thompson called his name.

“Yixiao, are you done collecting?”

“Yeah.” Edward Harris turned his head and replied. Just as he was about to leave, Eric Wright stood up as well.