Eric Clark thought about the way that person last night said his name was “Adam Wright”, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression indifferent. Eric Clark rubbed his head against his arm, making no attempt to hide his appreciation for the man’s looks. For so many years, even with someone by his side, he’d always restrained himself from looking at others, feeling guilty for even glancing twice at a handsome guy on the street. After the breakup, he hadn’t met anyone he clicked with, so now that he finally saw someone he liked, he couldn’t help but savor it for a few days.

After class, Eric Clark went to the lab to look up some data, then checked on the tiny transparent fish in the incubator. He didn’t have any more classes, so he wanted to go home and sleep.

His phone rang. He glanced at it—it was his mom, Dr. Turner.

“Are you coming home tonight, Brian Clark?”

Eric Clark was exasperated. “Don’t tease me, boss. What’s with the ‘帅’? If you have instructions, just say it.”

“No instructions. It’s the weekend, so I’m just asking if you’re coming home,” came the reply.

“I’ll come home, I will,” Eric Clark answered.

“Alright then, see you tonight.”

Dr. Turner hung up crisply. Eric Clark had planned to go home and sleep, but that clearly wasn’t happening now. Usually, when Dr. Turner asked if he was coming home, it meant she wanted him to come, and besides, Eric Clark hadn’t been home in a while. He didn’t mind going home—he got along well with his parents—but ever since he and Ethan Harris broke up, Dr. Turner would always bring it up, which left him a bit helpless.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home, it was just that when it came to Ethan Harris, he really didn’t want to hear about it anymore.

He spent half an hour circling downstairs looking for a parking spot, which left Eric Clark feeling completely calm. By the time he got upstairs, dinner was already set on the table. His dad was sitting at the dining table, hands neatly placed on the table, looking at his phone.

“Why are you sitting so straight?” Eric Clark asked as he changed his shoes.

“Mm, I’m trying to protect my cervical spine. My neck’s been hurting these days,” his dad replied.

“To protect your neck, you should tilt your head back. Sitting this straight and craning your neck down—you’re just making your spine even straighter.” Eric Clark walked over and touched the back of his dad’s neck, frowning. “It’s pretty bad. I’ll book you a massage for tomorrow, and you have to go on time every day after that.”

“I do need a massage. I’ve been feeling a bit dizzy lately.” His dad put down his phone and glanced toward the kitchen. “Is it ready yet? Can I eat?”

Dr. Turner came out carrying a plate of lamb chops, set it on the table, and said to Eric Clark, “Saw you circling downstairs for ages—must be starving? Go wash your hands and eat.”

“I was hungry, but after three laps I’m full. Next time I come home, I’m not driving—finding a parking spot is exhausting.” Eric Clark said as he washed his hands. The hand soap smelled strongly of milk; after rubbing it in, the sweet scent was obvious. “Dad, you bought this hand soap?”

“Ah, a student gave it to me. It’s pretty good. You can take a bottle with you later.” His dad straightened the chopsticks on the table, making no attempt to hide his eagerness to eat.

“Alright, you’re even accepting gifts from students now, huh, Old Clark?” Eric Clark laughed as he sat down and took a bite.

“I didn’t plan to, but it really does smell nice.” His dad chuckled too.

Mr. Clark Sr. used to be a teacher, a high school homeroom teacher for many years. Former students often came to visit him after graduation. If they brought food or daily necessities, he’d accept them, but anything more expensive—cigarettes, alcohol, tea—he’d always return.

Their family had two teachers and a doctor, all intellectuals, so communication was never a problem. Growing up, Eric Clark’s parents gave him a lot of freedom, so much so that when Eric Clark came out to his family, his mom was in utter disbelief, then angrily asked, “Did we give you too much freedom and spoil you?”

That was the angriest Eric Clark had ever seen his parents. They panicked and refused to talk to him. But since they were both highly educated and open-minded, Eric Clark was able to talk to them calmly and rationally, and they listened. With time, there was nothing they couldn’t accept. Being gay wasn’t a huge hurdle at home; the atmosphere was just gloomy for a while, but things gradually returned to normal.

He and Ethan Harris had been together for over five years. In the last two years, Ethan Harris was so comfortable at his house it was like his own, and he got along well with his parents too.

After dinner, Dr. Turner cut up some fruit and placed it on the coffee table along with a square box. Eric Clark looked up at his mom, asking with his eyes what it was.

She looked down at him and said, “Little Ethan brought it over last week. Birthday present, I guess. I’m giving it to you. I don’t want to get involved in your business—he should give it to you himself, but he just dropped it off and left.”

Eric Clark’s face was expressionless as he took it and opened it. One look and he smiled—Engineer Harris was really generous. This watch cost just over eighty thousand domestically, and even abroad it would be sixty or seventy thousand. Eric Clark asked, “He’s back?”

“He came to the house, so he must be back. But I didn’t ask if he’s leaving again. Didn’t want to ask too much—it’s awkward.” Dr. Turner peeled a tangerine in her hand and glanced at Eric Clark.

Eric Clark nodded. “No need to ask.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. I’m just passing the stuff along, no need to be on guard.” Dr. Turner smiled, placing the peeled tangerine in Eric Clark’s hand. “It’s been so long and neither of you has given me a straight answer. What’s going on with you two now? I’m not allowed to ask, and you won’t say anything yourselves. Makes it look like we have nothing better to do than keep prying.”