Old Clark also chimed in quietly from the side: “Yeah, we’re not trying to interfere, just want to know if you two are just having a spat, or if you’ve already broken up…”

Eric Clark had drunk too much last night and barely slept, so he’d had a headache all day. After dinner it eased a bit, but it still hurt. He leaned back on the sofa with his eyes closed, massaging his brow. For over a year, he hadn’t explained things with Ethan Harris to his parents—he didn’t want to bring it up, for a simple reason: it felt humiliating. He was the one who had brought Ethan Harris home, making all sorts of bold promises, and now he was the one sitting here facing these questions.

Eric Clark kept his eyes closed, never opening them, and let out a long sigh: “He’s been over at the house, why don’t you ask him…”

“We did, but he didn’t say anything, did he?” Old Clark took a sip of tea, glanced at him, and continued quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t… We’ll ask again next time.”

“No need.” Eric Clark pinched the bridge of his nose again, ate a segment of orange, looked back and forth at his parents, and said, “We broke up a long time ago.”

It really had been quite a while. All those tangled emotions from back then were hard to recall now, so when he spoke, his voice was flat and calm, sounding like he didn’t care at all anymore.

The old couple had actually been prepared for this, and had already guessed as much. But now, they just looked at each other, mouths open, not knowing what to say.

“Fate’s run its course, grievances are over, the past can’t be rekindled, everything’s gone with the wind.” After saying this, Eric Clark even laughed at himself, ate another orange segment, and said, “That’s it, nothing more to say.”

The TV drama kept playing, but aside from that, the room was silent for several seconds. Finally, it was Dr. Turner who spoke first: “I told you before, relationships like yours are hard to keep stable. You both seemed pretty reliable before, but look how it turned out. You’re thirty now, so I won’t say much more. As long as you’ve thought things through for yourself, that’s enough.”

Eric Clark nodded: “Okay, Mom!”

Dr. Turner shot him a glare but didn’t say anything else.

This matter had weighed on Eric Clark for over a year; he’d never wanted to bring it up at home. Now that he finally had, it didn’t feel as relieving as he’d imagined. Instead, it felt like something was stuck inside, neither going up nor down. Eric Clark said, “If there’s still any of his stuff at home, just pack it up and throw it out, or you can arrange with him to come pick it up. And this watch—since you kept it, you return it, Ms. Turner. I’m not taking it.”

There was no room for negotiation with Eric Clark on this. He wouldn’t take it. Ethan Harris hadn’t even dared to give it to him in person, knowing full well Eric Clark would never accept it. Ethan Harris used to say to him, your name suits you—you really can be harsh sometimes.

Originally, Eric Clark had planned to stay at home that night, but now he just wasn’t in the mood. After chatting with his parents about other things for a while, he was about to find an excuse to leave when he got a call from Samuel Reed.

Eric Clark answered, “What’s up?”

Samuel Reed shouted in his raspy voice over the phone, “Come out and sing, Mr. Clark! I might drink tonight, and if I get too drunk, you’ll have to take me home!”

Normally, Eric Clark would never go, but tonight he was desperate to get out and get some air. So he asked for the address, said goodnight to his parents, and headed out.

The night wind was still hot and restless, adding to the unease in his heart. Eric Clark stopped by a convenience store to buy a pack of Green Arrow gum and a bottle of iced water.

After all these years, there were all kinds of chewing gum on the market, but Eric Clark still preferred this old-school arrow brand. Chewing the super-strong mint flavor for a couple of bites, then washing it down with a gulp of ice water—only then do you know what it’s like to have a handful of ice thrown down your throat.

All those messy thoughts disappeared, leaving only the coolness.

Cool to the core—so refreshing.

Samuel Reed sent him a location on WeChat, and Eric Clark replied: OK, wait for Grandpa Clark.

Chapter 4

Eric Clark was never intimidated by anyone in KTV; he had his own aura. Whenever Samuel Reed heard him sing, he’d call him Grandpa Clark.

After all, back when he was still young and inexperienced, Eric Clark had even entered a talent show once, sang a song, and got a direct ticket to the national top 300. He’d only gone because his roommate mentioned it and he wanted to join the fun, but when it came time to keep going, he wasn’t interested. He kept the ticket in his pocket for two and a half days before hurrying to withdraw from the competition.

He knew exactly how good he was—everyone has a couple of songs they’re good at. Making it into the top 300 was just luck, but he’d be eliminated soon enough, so why bother being cannon fodder.

Still, he definitely sang better than everyone else around him. That’s why, that night at the bar, he found the music unbearable. Following Samuel Reed’s directions, Eric Clark went upstairs, and as soon as he pushed open the private room door, he heard Samuel Reed’s booming voice: “Hey, Grandpa Clark is here! Whoever just said they could sing, get out here and lie down for me!”

“Eric Clark’s here?” Someone came over, patted Eric Clark on the shoulder, and greeted him.

The room was a bit dark, and coming in from outside, Eric Clark couldn’t quite make out who was who, but he could tell by their voices. This group was probably Samuel Reed’s high school classmates—a gathering of rich kids, a small clique that was both fractured and united, very strange.

Eric Clark was good friends with Samuel Reed, and sometimes hung out with them. After so many years, he knew them well.

“Who was just pretending to be a wimp? Get down and call me daddy right now, or you won’t even have your underwear left later! Go home bare-assed!” Samuel Reed was still shouting.