Little Ethan almost burst out clapping and laughing, while William Clark turned back to glance at those people, only parting his lips to say two words.

Andrew Bennett thought he said “idiots.”

But Andrew Bennett had no proof.

Just as he was thinking this, William Clark suddenly took off his mask and hat, completely relaxing, slumping against the seatback as if utterly exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes... looking rather frightening.

This superstar probably didn’t sleep all night.

“What are you looking at?” William Clark looked over.

Andrew Bennett: “???”

William Clark said coldly, “Stop staring at me.”

Andrew Bennett: “...I wasn’t.”

Henry Foster glanced at them through the rearview mirror. From his angle, he couldn’t see Andrew Bennett, only William Clark’s cold face as he rummaged impatiently through the large coat pocket.

Henry Foster kept feeling like they were about to start fighting.

Andrew Bennett didn’t dare look at William Clark anymore. He felt that William Clark was a bit irritable right now, maybe grumpy from just waking up, so it was best not to speak and to stay as quiet as a mouse.

For some reason, his gland started itching again, even worse than when he first woke up that morning.

He couldn’t help but reach back to touch it, and found a small patch of skin at the nape of his neck was burning hot, slightly swollen, as if waiting for something to pierce it.

A hand suddenly reached over.

The beauty of those fingers overlapped with the hand from Andrew Bennett’s dream.

Andrew Bennett looked up, confused, and saw what was in that hand.

It turned out William Clark had been struggling to fish something out of his pocket for so long just to pull out a pack of tissues.

Henry Foster, who had been secretly watching, twitched at the corner of his mouth.

William Clark handed the tissues to Andrew Bennett, saying flatly, “You have a nosebleed.”

Chapter 7

Andrew Bennett was wearing the same beige chunky-knit sweater he’d worn yesterday, making his skin look as smooth as milk—he already looked like he was made of milk, and if you poked his cheek with a finger, it would probably be soft and bouncy.

But he had a cold, indifferent face, and with a bit of red under his nostrils, he looked as ridiculous as could be.

Andrew Bennett instinctively reached up and, sure enough, felt fresh blood. His face turned visibly red in seconds: “...”

Damn it, what the hell!

William Clark handed him the tissue and turned his face toward the window.

Don’t bother me.

Andrew Bennett inexplicably understood the superstar’s body language at that moment.

He seemed to be disliked.

“Thanks.” Andrew Bennett hurriedly took the tissues and cleaned himself up in embarrassment.

So humiliating...

He almost wanted to cry.

Fortunately, aside from the throbbing patch of skin at the back of his neck and his now restless gland, only a single drop of nosebleed had actually fallen.

Before long, William Clark put his hat back on and closed his eyes to catch up on sleep.

No one else in the car spoke.

Andrew Bennett felt complicated. He wondered if, because of his nosebleed, he’d mess up William Clark’s rare act of kindness in agreeing to consider working together, and if Henry Foster would kill him for it.

*

The car drove quietly all the way to William Clark’s home.

William Clark’s family was far from ordinary; Andrew Bennett had more or less figured it out from the recent events. As the only son of a luxury goods empire, rumors online said William Clark debuted in defiance because he didn’t want to inherit the family business.

They passed through a high-end residential area, then by an artificial lake, and the car drove further and further into a sparsely populated area.

It wasn’t until they saw a villa complex halfway up the mountain that they were truly close to William Clark’s home.

Besides the driveway, there was also a gently sloping path, seemingly built especially for pedestrians or bicycles. It fit the healthy, active, low-carbon lifestyle ideals of the wealthy—even if they might never actually use it.

Willows stood on both sides of the path, but since it was winter, their withered branches looked rather bleak.

Andrew Bennett looked at the path, and suddenly some flashbacks surfaced in his mind.

Tender green willow leaves, rolling bicycle wheels, dirty canvas shoes, a bouquet of fresh daisies in the bike basket... The fragments disappeared too quickly for him to catch even a trace before the images vanished completely.

His temples ached.

He kept feeling like he’d been here before, more than once.

“Bro, don’t get out of the car!”

The car stopped at the entrance to a garden—apparently they’d arrived—but Little Ethan shouted nervously.

William Clark was already awake, a red mark on his face from sleeping on it, still as handsome as ever.

But he looked impatient. “What’s wrong?”

Little Ethan cursed and said, “There are paparazzi walking up the mountain, a bunch hiding in the bushes, and some right at your front door, damn it, lying in wait.”

Andrew Bennett pulled back the curtain and sure enough, saw a whole array of cameras outside—at least a dozen people waiting at William Clark’s door.

Without another word, Henry Foster started reversing the car. “We’re leaving.”

Paparazzi have a keen sense of smell. As soon as the car moved, they immediately realized what was happening and rushed over.

“William Clark! William Clark, come out and explain!”

“Is it true what they’re saying online about you being blacklisted? Why didn’t you attend Deep Sea TV’s New Year’s Gala?”

“William Clark!”

“William Clark! Did you fall out with Edward Hayes? He didn’t say a word for you this time!”