Eric Clark walked over with his hands in his pockets and kicked Samuel Reed: "What are you up to?"

Samuel Reed threw an arm around him: "Grandpa Clark! I've already lost over ten thousand! Help me beat them!"

Eric Clark was a bit confused: "How did you lose?"

"Lost at singing!"

"......"

Eric Clark was speechless. It took him a while to figure out that these idiots had been gambling based on the scores given by the system. With that broken, raspy voice of Samuel Reed, it would be strange if he didn't lose. Eric Clark ruffled his hair and muttered quietly beside him, "Are you stupid? These scores are totally random, even if you sing well you might not get a high score. Did a dog eat your brain?"

"Anyway, if I don't sing well, I definitely won't get a high score. You're way better than me, Grandpa Clark! Just go for it, losing is fine, I just wanted you to come out and have some fun, shout a bit. Did you really think I wanted you to sing for me?" Samuel Reed whispered back.

"Alright." Eric Clark smiled and said to him, "How could you bear to see me upset?"

"Got it." Samuel Reed bounced off to pick a song.

He knew Eric Clark's rules—starting with "How Could You Bear to Let Me Be Sad," one of his best songs. He'd sung this at a talent show back in the day.

But Eric Clark hadn't sung it in a long time. This song only sounded good if you sang it with feeling. After breaking up with Ethan Harris, he didn't dare sing it—not because he was afraid of getting emotional, but because he was worried people around him would overthink it. After all, the song title and lyrics were pretty pointed, as if he couldn't get over his old flame.

Begging and pleading for someone to stay was never Eric Clark's style. Since the breakup, he hadn't thought about going back even once. Samuel Reed said that, if you really looked at it, Eric Clark was actually pretty cold-hearted, and Eric Clark agreed. He quite appreciated that about himself.

Living like this was cool—it meant he'd never look pathetic.

After singing, Eric Clark only got an 85, but it was enough to help Samuel Reed win back a bit of money. Someone nearby said, "You guys are such cheaters, even bringing in outside help!"

"Well, you can get help too, no one's stopping you," Samuel Reed stuffed a slice of apple into Eric Clark's mouth, "Rest your voice, Grandpa Clark."

That night, Eric Clark sang three rounds, just three songs. He didn't help Samuel Reed win any money, but at least he won back what he'd lost earlier. But that wasn't the point—Samuel Reed didn't really care about the money. After all, listening to Eric Clark sing love songs was genuinely enjoyable.

Eric Clark didn't drink a drop of alcohol, just had a glass of juice. He gave two people a ride home along the way, and in the end, only Samuel Reed was left. He sprawled out in the passenger seat, humming and insisting on going to Eric Clark's place.

Eric Clark didn't mind. The two of them had known each other since middle school and grown up together. Whenever Samuel Reed drank too much, he often took him in.

After getting him settled on the sofa, it was already past midnight. Eric Clark took a quick shower and lay down. He'd only slept three hours the night before and had stayed up late again today. Getting older, he really couldn't handle it anymore. He wasn't that energetic guy in his early twenties—nowadays, he just couldn't pull all-nighters. Before falling asleep, he even thought he should put on a face mask when he woke up.

Samuel Reed spent the whole night rolling around on his sofa and slept soundly. When he opened his eyes, it was already broad daylight. He reached for his phone on the coffee table and glanced at it—it was already eleven o'clock.

"Eric Clark?" He yawned and called out again, "Grandpa Clark?"

"Here." Eric Clark came out from the balcony, holding a watering can. "The sleeping god is finally awake?"

"Damn, I really didn't know it was already eleven. I thought it was only seven or eight." Samuel Reed rubbed his eyes. "You made me sleep on the sofa again. I don't get you—there's a spare room, but you insist I sleep on the sofa."

Eric Clark put down the watering can and said, "I'm afraid you'll puke on the bed, and then I'd have to wash it."

"That logic," Samuel Reed slipped on his slippers and headed to the bathroom to run the water, talking as he walked, "You should be glad I didn't puke. If I really did, at least you can wash the bedsheets. If I puke on the sofa, wouldn't it be even harder to clean?"

"I wouldn't bother cleaning it," Eric Clark grinned at him, "I'd be happy if you puked so I could get a new one."

Samuel Reed kept the water running and said, "So that's what you're waiting for."

Actually, Eric Clark had only just woken up himself. He was seriously sleep-deprived and it was already past ten when he opened his eyes. He couldn't be bothered to make breakfast, so he just ordered delivery. By the time it arrived, both of them had finished getting ready.

Samuel Reed munched on a youtiao, chatting idly with Eric Clark, asking if he'd finished that project.

Eric Clark said it was almost done.

They hadn't seen each other for a while. Recently, Eric Clark had been tied up with experiments, busy as a dog every day. Samuel Reed, on the other hand, was a laid-back employee at a state-owned enterprise, living as carefree as he pleased. He said to Eric Clark, "What are you after, really? Back then I asked you to start a company with me, but you refused and went to be a lousy teacher. What's so great about that?"

"I only know how to do experiments. How could I start a company with you?" Eric Clark replied expressionlessly, sipping his soy milk. "As long as you make it big, that's enough. If I ever can't make ends meet, I can always rely on you."

"I know even less than you. My dad's always nagging me to go back to the company, and pushing me to get married." Samuel Reed frowned at the thought. "Life these past two years isn't what it used to be—it's been really tough."

Eric Clark couldn't really contribute to this topic. He didn't have these worries. Even though he wasn't young anymore, his family never pressured him to get married. He just drank his soy milk in silence, then said after a while, "Why don't you just come out to your family?"