Looking into those eyes, David Carter snapped back to clarity.

Time passed as quickly as pulling a lemon soda from the fridge on a sweltering afternoon.

David Carter composed herself and walked up to Henry Clark.

She patted the boy in front of her, who was watching Henry Clark, signaling for him to make way.

Henry Clark was listening to another girl’s question at the front of the classroom, his gaze shifting away, no longer looking at her.

After the girl finished her question, Henry Clark picked up a pen from the lectern and began writing slowly on the scratch paper.

His fingers were long and slender, with a callus on his middle finger that couldn’t be more obvious. Line after line, he wrote out the solution process with meticulous care.

The girl went from confused to suddenly understanding, and happily thanked Henry Clark.

Henry Clark nodded. Since there were too many people around, that was the end of it—he moved on to the next question.

Even though he was just substituting for a class and the environment was noisy, he showed not a hint of impatience toward the underclassmen.

This was how things ought to be, so he did his duty well.

David Carter stayed by his side for a while and could sense Henry Clark’s attitude.

Perhaps influenced by Henry Clark’s earnest focus, the atmosphere in the lecture hall gradually calmed.

Those who just wanted to watch Henry Clark sat in their seats, those with questions lined up at the front, and some people left. Order was restored, and it became just another ordinary class.

Chapter 4: Far Away

More and more students came up to ask questions. Henry Clark retreated to the blackboard, erasing each board after he finished, chalk dust falling like snowflakes.

When it was David Carter’s turn, she no longer felt the nervous excitement she had when she arrived.

Under Henry Clark’s calm gaze, she briefly explained her purpose.

“What’s the question?” Henry Clark asked.

Her heart skipped a beat again. Why does his voice sound so nice? David Carter wanted to rub her ears.

Suppressing her excitement, she pulled the question sheet from her pocket and handed it over.

Henry Clark’s strong, elegant fingers pressed the paper. He glanced at it, set it down, took half a step back to face her, pinched a piece of white chalk with three fingers, and with a questioning look, wrote a number on the blackboard—16.

Three seconds, five seconds to solve it? He hadn’t even taken half a second.

David Carter stared in shock. Henry Clark still held that questioning look. She realized he was asking if the answer was correct, so she quickly nodded.

Seeing this, Henry Clark pressed his palm to the blackboard, casually wiped away the answer, and replied seriously, “For someone who’s studied math for a long time, this problem isn’t difficult. But it tests your thinking and analytical skills, so for those who rarely deal with math, it’s quite interesting.”

“So, is it suitable?”

Henry Clark nodded.

David Carter was delighted. Though the answer was brief, it was clear he’d thought it through—Henry Clark was a very serious person.

A gentle breeze drifted in. She thanked Henry Clark, tucked her wind-blown hair behind her ear, and, with no reason to linger, turned to leave.

All the student council members from various schools were at the back of the lecture hall.

David Carter walked over and was immediately surrounded and asked about the result.

She repeated exactly what was said.

Someone caught on quickly: “Was the answer Henry Clark just wrote on the blackboard?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not human!”

David Carter agreed wholeheartedly.

They chatted by the back door for a while, and basically finalized the questions for the quiz competition.

David Carter took the opportunity to watch Henry Clark a bit longer.

She watched Henry Clark’s meticulous, focused expression, watched his wrist as he wrote, watched the starry-eyed girls looking at him, watched this remarkable classmate of hers...

But as she watched longer, David Carter gradually realized that Henry Clark and she were not from the same world.

From start to finish, Henry Clark was always calm and polite, never condescending. Yet the girlish feelings she’d built up before coming now felt empty.

She suddenly glimpsed the deep, unbridgeable gulf between herself and Henry Clark. A gulf formed by one side’s years of unwavering focus and accumulation, and the other’s years of muddling through and waiting for life to pass.

It wasn’t enough to make her feel ashamed, but it left her deeply disappointed.

Even the red clouds on the horizon faded, and the students lining up to ask questions in the classroom had mostly dispersed.

Henry Clark picked up the jacket draped over the corner of the lectern and began packing up his things.

“Shall we go too?” William Scott said.

David Carter nodded. She’d already spoken to Henry Clark, and stared at him for so long—there really was no reason to stay any longer.

It felt like she’d fulfilled a wish.

She watched her feet move across the concrete floor, but her mind was filled with scenes from shoujo anime—she suddenly turned and shouted, “Henry Clark, I’ve liked you for ten years!”

But she didn’t do it, because she didn’t have the courage.

More and more people were leaving together, through both the back and front doors.

The sound of fabric brushing together felt so real.

Suddenly, a bright voice rang out: “Senior Henry Clark, can we... ask you a... rather personal question?”

David Carter stopped as if saved, turning toward the voice.

Henry Clark was quite straightforward: “Sure, but if it’s too personal, I reserve the right not to answer.”

He put one hand in his pocket, the other holding test papers and scratch paper, the sheets drooping and fluttering in the breeze.

“Are you leaving?” the younger girl asked. “I mean... studying abroad?”