Ethan Carter took him back to the dorm. Although Henry Foster was exhausted, his mind was restless. After showering, he sat silently at his desk and opened his sudoku book, gripping his pen and quietly calculating, filling in the blanks one by one. Gradually, his mind calmed down. When he finished the sudoku, Henry Foster got into bed and pulled up the covers. Sleepiness crashed over him like a tide, drowning him in an instant. He didn’t know how long he’d been out when, in a haze, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Henry Foster? Henry—Foster—”

  He struggled to open his eyes, and a face covered in a sheet mask was right in front of him. Henry Foster blinked twice, as if focusing a camera, then burrowed back under the covers, mumbling, “What time is it?”

  Caleb Grant tore off his own face mask. “It’s already time for afternoon tea!” As the main vocalist and high note specialist, his shout was piercing. His cold hand reached under the covers and dragged Henry Foster out. “Don’t sleep anymore, bro, something big happened!”

  The words “something big” pricked at Henry Foster. He woke up, wiped his face, and got out of bed. “I’ll go wash up.”

  “How is this guy always so calm…” Caleb Grant sat up and ran back to the living room. On the living room sofa, two guys were sitting side by side: kaleido’s main dancer Owen Clark and sub-rapper Brian Harris. The two of them were huddled together, staring intently at the laptop screen.

  “Awake?” The captain Samuel Reed was holding a soft cloth, having just finished wiping the guzheng in the corner of the living room. “I’ll go heat up some soup for him. He hasn’t eaten anything after sleeping so long.”

  Caleb Grant nodded quickly, his eyes following Samuel Reed as he walked to the kitchen. “Mr. Samuel, I want a bowl too!”

  Owen Clark exclaimed, “These girls are seriously amazing! How can they talk so much?!”

  Next to him, Brian Harris teased, “Dalian’s most handsome, please speak Mandarin.”

  Owen Clark: “I am speaking Mandarin!”

  Caleb Grant squeezed in with a grin, imitating his accent, “Of course, super standard!”

  “Get lost!”

  As they were making a racket, Henry Foster walked out. The three on the sofa all looked up at once, their expressions subtle.

  Henry Foster knew what was up. Before anyone could speak, he apologized first. “Sorry, I dragged you all into this again.”

  The three on the sofa looked at each other, then at Henry Foster, faces full of question marks.

  “Wait, shouldn’t we be thanking you?” Brian Harris laughed. “Didn’t expect our group to go viral like this.”

  Thank?

  Henry Foster vaguely sensed that things weren’t as he’d expected. “What’s the big thing you’re talking about?”

  Caleb Grant spun the laptop around to face Henry Foster. “The fan-taken video of you and Little Logan at the airport is trending! Look, it’s already been reposted thirty thousand times!”

  With Logan Brooks?

  Henry Foster narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at the video playing on the screen. It was footage of him and Logan Brooks at the airport waiting area two days ago.

  In the video, Logan Brooks was wearing a black overcoat and sunglasses, striding over to Henry Foster, who was looking down at his ticket, forcing him back against the wall. The nearly 1.9-meter-tall presence was overwhelming. He lazily snatched the ticket from Henry Foster’s hand, held it, and grinned at him, seemingly saying something. Then he raised his hand and lightly tapped Henry Foster’s cheek with the ticket, again and again.

  The sharp, straight edge of the ticket slid across his fair cheek, the paper brazenly colliding, testing each other’s limits.

  Classic Logan Brooks bad behavior.

  But no one expected this scene to be caught on camera.

  On screen, Henry Foster lifted his head slightly and stared at Logan Brooks, only to see the smirk on his face grow even more arrogant. He remembered the atmosphere at the time, and also that Logan Brooks was actually forcing him to switch seats. He’d stuck to his usual rule when dealing with Logan Brooks—avoid him if possible, never cause trouble. So he simply took the ticket back, held it in his mouth, straightened his clothes with both hands, then looked up and gave the group’s youngest troublemaker a soulless smile.

  Leaning on Henry Foster’s shoulder, Caleb Grant silently watched him study the video, noticing the living Buddha’s serious expression. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

  “Are netizens saying Logan Brooks is bullying me in the group? Has the company done PR yet?”

  The teammates: ……

  “Henry Foster, wake up!” Caleb Grant shook his shoulder hard. “They’re shipping you and Logan Brooks as a CP!”

  “Shipping…” Henry Foster was stunned.

  How could anyone ship the two people with the worst relationship in the group?

  Dalian’s most handsome Owen Clark grabbed the mouse and clicked open the comments. “You have to see what these netizens are saying, it’s wild.”

  [Arctic Circle Sugar Licker: Aaaaaaah, the pheromones are overflowing from the screen!!! (whispers: the pretty guy in the white knit hat leaning against the wall, is that an injury at the corner of his eye or a birthmark? So good-looking!)]

  Just reading the first comment, Henry Foster already understood what “wild” meant.

  [First-Class Member of the Roast Duck Association: How can a single plane ticket be played with in such a suggestive way by these two?]

  [77&77: Oh my god, the guy in the black coat is so tall and handsome! Who is he!?]

  [Player12: I’m shocked, the guy in black is so dominant, the ticket-to-the-face move is amazing…]

  [Has Kaleido Come Back Today: fjx really is the only one among current male idols with that cool, aloof look. Holding the ticket in his mouth—cold and seductive, an absolutely stunning sight.]