"No need to be so decisive. Isn't it a shame to stay this late and not have a drink?" The person still seemed unwilling to give up, lowered their voice a bit, reached out to tug at Eric Clark's zipper, and looked at him with a half-flirtatious, half-indifferent gaze: "I'm good either way, you decide."

This was whispered right next to Eric Clark's ear, so Adam Wright couldn't hear it; he could only see Eric Clark's furrowed brows. So when Eric Clark sat up straight, trying to avoid that person's mouth, Adam Wright coughed. He said, "Stop messing around, man, there's a living person sitting right here."

"Oh, you two know each other?" The person glanced at Adam Wright twice, straightened up and laughed, "Didn't see you talking, so... how about together?"

Adam Wright didn't look at him again, just said, "You can't take him, give it a rest."

In a bar, everything is about mutual consent. If someone isn't willing, no one forces it. The person shrugged regretfully and left. Adam Wright said, "Let's go home, teacher of the people."

Eric Clark took out his phone to check the time and nodded, "Yeah, it's time to go."

When they went to pay, Old Scott happened to be standing by the bar. Eric Clark had come alone, but was leaving with someone. Old Scott's gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment. People in this business never pry, he just smiled and greeted them, "Heading out?"

"Yeah, check please," said Eric Clark.

Since the two of them sat at the same table, naturally the bill was combined. Adam Wright took out a card and handed it to the cashier, "Card."

Eric Clark quickly pulled out his wallet and tossed over a card, "This one."

"Hey, don't fight over it," Old Scott smiled at them, "Doesn't matter whose card, it's all the same."

He'd known Eric Clark for a long time, so when Eric Clark gave him a look, he naturally took Eric Clark's card and handed it to the server, "Use this one, it's all the same."

Eric Clark stood by the bar waiting to sign the receipt, chatted with Old Scott for a bit, and when he turned around after paying, he found that Adam Wright had already left. Eric Clark said goodbye to Old Scott, who grinned and said, "Enjoy your spring night."

Eric Clark knew he was overthinking it, but didn't bother to explain. They'd been broken up for over a year—no need to act like he was saving himself for someone, or go out of his way to clarify. Eric Clark waved and left.

As he walked, he wondered if he should have left his number earlier.

But as soon as he stepped outside, he saw someone leaning against the wall by the door, head down, smoking. Eric Clark looked over, and the person raised a hand, "Over here."

Eric Clark walked over and asked, "Waiting for me?"

"Yeah," Adam Wright replied.

Eric Clark suddenly smiled, his eyes curving down, looking very attractive when he smiled. He said, "I'm not looking for a hookup, I'm a decent guy."

Adam Wright smiled too, slipped a business card into his pocket, and said, "Thanks for the drinks tonight. If you have time, look me up—I'll return the favor."

"No need to be so polite," Eric Clark waved a hand, "Thanks for drinking with me tonight too. It's my birthday today, at least I had some company."

Adam Wright paused, then said, "Happy birthday."

A chance encounter, a stranger standing in front of him saying happy birthday—it was a bit absurd, and Eric Clark genuinely wanted to laugh.

And he really did laugh, took out the business card and waved it, asking Adam Wright, "So what kind of favor are you planning to return?"

Adam Wright took a drag of his cigarette and said, "I don't know much else, but if you ever want a tattoo, come find me."

Tattoos were a distant thing for him, but he still thought being a tattoo artist was cool, and for some reason, it really suited Adam Wright. Eric Clark nodded, "Alright."

A brief encounter was about to end, and Eric Clark should head home. He was holding the business card, but didn't look down at it. As Adam Wright was about to leave, Eric Clark called out, "Hey."

Adam Wright turned back, one eyebrow raised.

Eric Clark asked, "Your surname is Zhou, Zhou what? I didn't catch it earlier."

Adam Wright looked at him and replied calmly, "Zhou Zui—'Zui' as in 'crime.'"

Chapter 3

When Eric Clark got home, it was already three thirty, almost dawn. He took off his leather jacket, and even his T-shirt underneath was damp. It was still hot at the end of August; leather jackets might look cool, but they're not breathable and feel stifling. He took a quick shower and collapsed into bed. It wasn't the weekend—he still had class the next day.

It felt like he'd barely slept before the alarm went off. Eric Clark hit snooze for ten minutes but finally got up, frowning as if his scalp was about to explode. After so much alcohol and only three hours of sleep, he was really pushing it.

During class, a student in the front row asked, "Mr. Clark, did you not sleep well last night?"

Eric Clark nodded, "Yeah, insomnia."

"Handsome Clark gets insomnia too? What are you worried about?" The student chatted with him from their seat. Eric Clark was young, so the students didn't feel distant from him.

Eric Clark said, "I'm worried about how you'll pass your finals. Judging by your assignments, even if I go easy on you, you still won't make it."

During the break, Eric Clark lay on the desk with his eyes closed, dozing. Talking about last night made him think of that absurd evening. It could have been a pretty sad night, but a stranger had completely scattered his emotions.

And that stranger... was actually really good-looking.