Adam Wright still didn’t respond to him. Jack Morgan said, “Actually, I think Brother Clark is pretty good—he looks great, his figure and appearance are both top-notch, and his personality isn’t bad either.”

Jack Morgan was just messing around, coming over to get a few glares from Adam Wright. But Eric Clark really was exactly Adam Wright’s type, and he wasn’t wrong about that. In fact, the first time Eric Clark came by with his friend to get a tattoo, Jack Morgan already thought there was something there. After all, it was his big bro who took the initiative to give out his contact info. If his big bro really didn’t have any interest, he probably wouldn’t have handed over his business card.

But after observing for a while, he realized his big bro was still the same lukewarm self, showing no other intentions, which left Jack Morgan a bit disappointed.

All these years, Adam Wright had never had anyone by his side, and Jack Morgan knew the reason. It wasn’t his big bro’s fault, but he still hoped there could be someone for him, someone who could pull him up. But after so many years, it never happened, and gradually he just let it go and stopped thinking about it.

As for Eric Clark, there was basically no progress, but he still chased after him every day with enthusiasm, feeling like his whole mindset had gotten younger.

The past two years had been dull and flavorless, and he hadn’t been interested in anyone. Now that he’d met someone, all his fighting spirit was stirred up again, and it felt like he was back in his twenties, still in school.

Every year during the National Day holiday, he was used to going out for a bit—not too far, never squeezing onto a plane with the crowds, just driving himself to nearby places for a spin. This year, just to pursue Adam Wright, he didn’t go anywhere, spending the whole few days in the shop.

But all that waiting didn’t amount to much—Adam Wright only stayed in the shop for three days, and didn’t come by the rest of the time.

Ryan Turner told Eric Clark, “Boss doesn’t come every day. He schedules one job a day, but sometimes if a client has something come up, the times get shuffled around, and if he has free time, he might just not show up.”

Eric Clark said, “It’s fine, doesn’t matter.”

While he was hanging around the shop, someone who came in to book a tattoo even asked him, “Hey handsome, are you a tattoo artist here too? Can I book with you?”

Eric Clark smiled and shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Aww, what a shame,” the other person said. “I was thinking if the tattoo artist was this handsome, maybe the distraction would make it hurt less.”

Eric Clark smiled and reassured her, “Don’t worry, Mr. Wright is way more handsome than me.”

“Oh, come on, I’ve met Mr. Wright.” The girl looked pretty young, probably a college student, and she was quite chatty. “Last time my roommate got a tattoo, Mr. Wright kept a straight face the whole time—so serious. No matter how handsome, it was scary, and being nervous made it hurt even more.”

Jack Morgan had been talking to her about designs and roughly when she’d be scheduled, but hearing this, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “So what do you think of me?”

The girl looked up and gave him another careful look, a bit embarrassed, and said, “I’d still go with Mr. Wright.”

“……” Jack Morgan was a bit hurt and asked, “I’m not handsome?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that we’re too close in age, I’d get shy,” the girl said, touching her nose.

Eric Clark chuckled, and Jack Morgan was a bit helpless too. But honestly, he didn’t really like tattooing girls—it was troublesome. Girls always felt a bit awkward with male tattoo artists. If it was just the arm, it was fine, but for any other area, there was always some discomfort. After so many years in the business, they could work anywhere without a stray thought, but the girls still felt uneasy, especially with places like the upper thigh or chest.

After saying that, the girl worried she’d hurt Jack Morgan’s feelings, so she added to make up for it, “Mr. Wright is a bit older, kind of like an uncle, so it’s a little less awkward.”

Jack Morgan laughed at that, but Eric Clark wasn’t so pleased—this was a blow to a fanboy’s heart. Imitating Ryan Turner, he said, “You’re not allowed to talk about my idol like that.”

The girl was so amused she covered her mouth, laughing nonstop. Jack Morgan glanced at him and said, “Brother Clark, your idol will be thirty-six in two months. Let’s face it, he’s not exactly young anymore.”

Eric Clark rolled up the magazine in his hand and knocked it on Jack Morgan’s shaved head, then left their room to wait for takeout in the front hall, tossing back, “When the rabbit heads arrive, don’t eat any. All the spicy rabbit heads belong to my thirty-five-year-old idol.”

Rabbit heads were what Jack Morgan specifically wanted to eat—he just loved that spicy kick. That day, Eric Clark left before Adam Wright showed up. He was just used to dropping by when he had free time, not necessarily to see anyone.

Chasing someone at thirty isn’t the same as when you’re around twenty. Back then, he liked to go all out, but now that he’s older, he doesn’t like that anymore. He just wants to show up from time to time, leave a little mark in the ordinary days.

Come to think of it, back then Ethan Harris was someone Eric Clark had pursued openly. At that time, Ethan Harris was already working at a design institute. Ethan Harris was quiet and reserved, while Eric Clark was playful and outgoing—they made a pretty good match. Eric Clark often gave flowers in public; whenever they went for a walk and passed a flower shop, he’d definitely go in and come out with a bouquet of roses—bright and passionate, just like Eric Clark himself, burning and dazzling.

Thinking about it, he realized he hadn’t given any flowers yet. How can you chase someone without giving flowers?

It’s fine to be low-key and understated, but not giving flowers is just too half-hearted—a pursuit that’s way too perfunctory.