This was left by the housekeeper. Martin Bennett is often not home, and without any parents around, William Bennett's meals are always irregular. Whenever she can't get the door open, the housekeeper leaves some food suitable for midnight snacks, making it convenient for him to come downstairs and find something to eat. Gradually, this became an unspoken routine.

Given Martin Bennett's schedule, he was definitely already asleep by this time.

William Bennett didn't even bother with his slippers, silently going downstairs in his socks. As soon as he opened the fridge and stuck his head in to rummage for food, he heard Martin Bennett's low voice coming from the terrace outside the glass.

He paused, holding a bunch of grapes as he made his way over. Martin Bennett was on the phone, one hand holding the phone, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked utterly exhausted, but his tone was very gentle.

Martin Bennett said to the person on the other end, "I checked with the school dormitory, you can only apply after the official start of the semester. Little Edward wants to move in, but it probably won't work for now."

"Yeah, it's better to stay here for now."

"Actually, I'd be happier if you stayed here long-term. The morning after tomorrow, I'll take Little Brooks to help you move your things. You can tell Little Edward that the two sides of this courtyard are symmetrical, each with a bedroom, living room, and bathroom. He can think of it as the two families co-renting, just sharing the kitchen."

William Bennett choked on a grape, his ears turning red.

He had expected that after this meal, those two would move in soon, but he didn't think it would be this fast—so fast that he had three nightmares in one night.

He dreamed of being chased by a blank exam paper, chased by a dog, and chased by Edward Harris.

The weekly exams at the affiliated school were brutal: five subjects in one day, starting at 7 a.m. and going until 9 p.m. The first subject was math, probably to help them wake up their brains.

The proctor stood at the front counting the test papers, dividing them into groups and having the first desk in each group pass them back. Samuel Wright in the front row drew a paper, handed the rest to him, and casually asked, "What are you planning to do?"

William Bennett gave a dry laugh and said, "Just wing it. If it really doesn't work, I'll just fill in C for all the multiple-choice questions. At least I can get a few points as a safety net."

"You—" Samuel Wright glanced at him, hesitated, then shut his mouth and sat up straight under the proctor's gaze.

What?

William Bennett was puzzled for a moment, but the next second, he understood why Samuel Wright had that expression. Because when he glanced at the paper in a hurry, he realized...

Math! There were! No! Multiple-choice questions!

As he sat there numbly, someone poked his shoulder twice. Edward Harris's low voice came from behind: "You could also try filling in C for all 14 fill-in-the-blank questions."

"......"

Are you crazy?

William Bennett turned to glare at him. "I'll fill it in however I want, what's it to you? And why are you poking me?"

Edward Harris looked at him and suddenly opened his palm. "I poked you because I wanted to ask, how long are you planning to keep my test paper?"

William Bennett froze. "…Oh, I forgot."

Author's note: Just landed and got online, sorry for the wait.

Thank you all so much for your support, I'll keep working hard!

Chapter 4: Small Goals

This was the longest exam ever.

There were still 30 minutes left. William Bennett twirled his pen around his index finger twice and set it on the desk. The movement was slight, but it still drew quite a few glances—curious, gossipy, sympathetic, and some just casual.

When you're a teenager, rumors spread fast. Young people have no secrets; everything can become common knowledge.

Overnight, it became common knowledge that the handsome new transfer student in Advanced Class A was going to bomb all five exams, and his scores would probably be in the single digits—how tragic! Even the proctor from another class couldn't help but glance at him a few more times.

The bell rang at the very last second. The proctor clapped his hands and said, "Alright, time's almost up, put your pens down. Hey, the boy by the window in the first group, stop writing. You're all from Class A, do you really care about these last ten or twenty seconds? Leave a little hope for the students from other classes."

Everyone chuckled, and the boy blushed as he let go of his pen, rubbing the sweat from his hands.

"Look how nervous you are, it's just the last question. The new guy is even calmer than you." The classmate behind him kicked his chair and joked. Everyone looked over at William Bennett.

This kind of teasing wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't malicious either. It was just because he was new—people subconsciously put newcomers outside the group. This was almost always how every transfer started. William Bennett was used to it, and even smiled and replied, "Exactly."

No one expected him to respond like that, and they were momentarily stunned.

"Alright, enough chatter. The last student in each group, collect the papers from the back to the front," the proctor said, and the classroom filled with the sound of chairs moving.

Edward Harris stood up with his test paper, tapped his fingers twice on William Bennett's desk to signal him to hand over his paper.

William Bennett glanced at him, about to pass his paper over, when Samuel Wright took the chance to turn around and ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," William Bennett said.

"Wow, you can still smile." Samuel Wright gave him a thumbs up. "That's some attitude. If I were in your situation, I'd probably just shut down."

Getting questions wrong isn't a big deal, at least you kept writing. Not knowing anything and having to tough it out for two hours—that's real torture.