Very suddenly, he recalled when he was a sophomore. At that time, a certain professor for a core course had a fiery temper and often belittled students’ character—hardly anyone could stand him.

For that course, the final grade required both an exam score and a lab score. Compared to the hard numbers of the exam, the lab grade mostly depended on the professor’s subjective impression, so not many people managed to pass smoothly.

In order to get the GPA he wanted, Edward Harris showed immense patience. While almost everyone else was driven away by this thunderous professor—after all, no one could endure prolonged belittlement, especially in a place full of the so-called elite—Edward Harris could.

Faced with harsh words, he nodded and obeyed, complying with everything, and in the end, he got the grade he wanted.

Even that professor couldn’t help but say that Edward Harris was the most sensible and mature student he had ever met.

To this day, he still didn’t know if that counted as a compliment.

Lost in thought, Professor Martin and another student came in. Perhaps to liven up the atmosphere, they joked about the two of them.

“So your relationship is already this close? Looks like I don’t need to help break the ice.”

Seeing Professor Martin’s smile, Edward Harris felt a bit complicated inside. His gaze focused ahead—first on the passion fruit juice in Eric Wright’s clear cup, then on his figure just a short distance away.

Like a dream finally fading, the bruises on the back of Eric Wright’s neck were gone. His earlobes were thin and tinged with blood-red, with a small indentation from a piercing.

As he started to wonder when Eric Wright had gotten his ears pierced, he suddenly snapped out of it, realizing he was thinking too far and too much.

The premise of breaking the ice is that there needs to be ice to break.

Edward Harris could indeed feel that there was something between him and Eric Wright. It was strange—he’d never encountered a similar barrier in any of his previous social relationships. It was thin, as if they could reach out and touch each other, but at the moment of reaching out, the sense of danger was unmistakable.

The new student was called Michael Bolton, also from the finance department, and a star pupil of Professor Martin.

Top students love to get to the bottom of things. He was very interested in both the tool Edward Harris had developed and in Edward Harris himself, so he kept asking questions. Edward Harris did his best to be patient, but his attention was on Eric Wright, who was talking with Professor Martin.

When Eric Wright spoke, his tone was always light. Even when he led the conversation and spoke at length, he never came across as aggressive. On the contrary, he was always gentle and very engaging.

“By the way, when I attended a seminar, I heard someone mention your grandfather. I heard he hasn’t been well lately—how is he now?” Professor Martin asked with concern.

Edward Harris stared at Eric Wright’s back and heard him reply softly, “I don’t know either.”

Unlike others, who would have a polite answer ready at such times—like “He’s better, thank you for asking”—he honestly said he didn’t know.

Eric Wright smiled, tilting his head up to look at Professor Martin. “My grandfather is always very forceful in front of me. Even when he’s sick, he’s the same. I hope he’s okay.”

As they made eye contact, Professor Martin paused for a moment, then smiled. “Your grandfather does it all for you.”

Eric Wright didn’t deny it. “Yeah, for my own good.”

Neither of them continued. Professor Martin smoothly changed the subject and started the group meeting. He had a lot to say, and Eric Wright, worried that his thoughts would drift too quickly to keep up, took out his laptop to record the tasks Professor Martin assigned.

In summary, he hoped Eric Wright could help Edward Harris write an English paper, while Michael Bolton would be responsible for collecting enough data.

In the second half of the meeting, Eric Wright grew restless, tapping his leg lightly with his hand to ease the discomfort, until the meeting ended.

“Get along well, you two.” Professor Martin patted Eric Wright on the shoulder and said to him, “Edward is a very hardworking kid. Communicate with him more. Maybe by the time this paper is done, you’ll know how to code too.”

Eric Wright smiled on the surface, but inwardly he couldn’t be bothered to agree. He had no interest in learning how to code.

But he was very willing to spend time with Edward Harris.

On the way out, Michael Bolton was still asking questions, and Edward Harris answered them in a friendly and enthusiastic manner, explaining all the way.

Eric Wright followed behind the two, keeping a two-step distance, displaying a quietness that didn’t quite match this stage. He really wanted to go out to the campus lawn, get some fresh air, and lie down for a while.

“Now that you’ve explained it, I get it. Thanks, Edward.” Michael Bolton instinctively tried to put his arm around Edward Harris’s shoulder, but the height difference made it awkward. He scratched his head and smiled, “Hey, let’s eat together. I recently found a great place near the tech park. Can you eat spicy food?”

Eric Wright’s mind wandered, answering an unrelated question in his head—I can’t eat spicy food, really can’t. When I eat hotpot, I have to rinse it three times in plain water.

He wanted to get to the lawn right away, so he quickened his pace, planning to overtake the two and leave first.

But just as he was about to succeed, his arm was grabbed.

He turned around and met Edward Harris’s deep gaze.

Then came his soft voice, “Wait a moment.”