At that moment, Andrew Bennett was shocked by his own shamelessness, only grateful that he hadn’t been a toxic solo fan before, because he realized he actually had quite a few different styles of Alpha saved on his computer hard drive.

It turned out that dreams and reality are indeed different.

Andrew Bennett had been so excited to attend the annual party, and now he felt just as disappointed—William Clark wasn’t even half as gentle as he was in his dreams, and might even be prejudiced against Omegas.

Andrew Bennett didn’t even want to be his looks fan anymore.

Come on, he really didn’t want to have those kinds of dreams about William Clark’s face anymore.

*

When Henry Foster came to Andrew Bennett’s room, his face had already brightened: “What did you say to William Clark last night? How did you manage to convince him?”

Andrew Bennett was sitting cross-legged on the bed, eating the breakfast delivered by room service, his cheeks adorably puffed out.

“What? I just wanted to borrow a phone.”

Henry Foster was delighted: “I heard from Little Ethan. Did you say something when you borrowed the phone that changed his impression of you? Early this morning, Ms. Cooper called and said it’s settled—William Clark said he’d consider it, and his attitude isn’t so absolute anymore.”

For an artist, good exposure needs a good starting point. Henry Foster wasn’t someone who nitpicked; nothing was more important than his career, and putting up with a little frustration now and then was totally within his acceptable range.

Andrew Bennett was stunned.

What?!

Things could turn around like this?

Could it be like those cliché idol dramas, where a casual remark from him made the male lead think, “Heh, woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention”?

Thinking back, William Clark did seem to question his view on Omega discrimination, and he’d said that, musically, it wasn’t like that.

He couldn’t even remember exactly how the conversation went.

Was it because of that?

Most of the company staff had already left.

After breakfast, it was time for them to go too. Downstairs, the protesters and media were still full of energy—they’d actually kept watch all night and hadn’t left, probably knowing that William Clark would be leaving the Fisher Hotel today no matter what. They were even more excited than yesterday, determined not to let William Clark slip away.

In the elevator, Henry Foster said, “Zhouzhou, you look a bit pale. Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not at all,” Andrew Bennett answered honestly. As if he could have slept well—he was practically drained.

“David Grant can be quite a handful,” Henry Foster misunderstood, reminding him, “But you still need to pay attention to your sleep. You’re young, but you’re an artist, so you have to take care of yourself. Look at David Grant, already twenty-six.”

Andrew Bennett was shocked—he thought David Grant was at most twenty.

Artists are all monsters, huh!

When they got to the parking lot, Henry Foster had just opened the car door for Andrew Bennett when Little Ethan came running over: “Mr. Foster!”

Little Ethan caught his breath and said he wanted to ask them for a favor.

The two of them chatted for a bit, but Andrew Bennett didn’t catch what they said—he just closed his eyes to rest. He really needed to catch up on sleep.

When Henry Foster got back in the car, he called out, “Zhouzhou, move over one seat.”

Andrew Bennett didn’t know why, but he shifted to the second row of seats anyway.

As soon as he sat down, a long leg stretched in.

William Clark, wearing a mask and a baseball cap, was probably trying to disguise himself, but even if he turned to ashes, Andrew Bennett would recognize him—let alone that unique S-class blazing sun pheromone.

It was scorching, almost searing.

He silently sat down in the seat next to Andrew Bennett, adjusting the seatback to get comfortable as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Fortunately, this luxury nanny van was spacious enough that someone as tall as him wouldn’t feel cramped.

Andrew Bennett: “……”

So, should he say hello or not?

Little Ethan followed right after, sitting in the front row with a cheerful smile, poking his head back: “Sorry to bother you! The paparazzi caught our license plate when we came in yesterday, so now Ms. Cooper is driving that car as a decoy. Since we happened to run into you, we’re hitching a ride—no one will guess we’re in your car. Zhouzhou, you don’t mind, right?”

That was true—right now, no media recognized Andrew Bennett’s car; they might not even recognize him.

Sarah Cooper really lived up to her name.

“I don’t mind,” Andrew Bennett glanced at William Clark.

William Clark had no intention of greeting them.

Fine, Andrew Bennett decided to just let everyone be silent together.

Henry Foster started the car: “William Clark, are you heading home or somewhere else? I heard Edward Hayes is happily living in the north of the city and even introduced you to buy a place there. Are you going over there?”

Edward Hayes! The Grand Slam Best Actor!

Andrew Bennett thought, so William Clark’s friends are all at this level. As expected, legends hang out with legends.

And him? At his peak, his only achievement was dragging his top-student roommate down to play the kids’ version of Link Link online with him.

“Home,” William Clark finally spoke.

Maybe because it was morning, his voice sounded a bit hoarse. “Thank you.”

No one brought up last night’s awkward encounter.

No, for Andrew Bennett and William Clark, it was two awkward encounters.

No one else spoke in the car. They smoothly passed through the bustling crowd outside the hotel without arousing any suspicion. They hadn’t driven far when someone suddenly shouted, “William Clark’s car!!!”

People swarmed forward, and as soon as Sarah Cooper’s car appeared, it was immediately surrounded.