After speaking, when the dean looked over again, his eyebrows furrowed: "And you! If you have nothing to do, go home. Don't wander around like some delinquent!"

Grace Bennett raised his hand and waved it perfunctorily, bidding the dean goodbye.

The surrounding students: "..."

Do you really think there's any part of him right now that doesn't look like a delinquent?

Watching the dean leave, Grace Bennett was about to turn his head back when the person walking with the dean suddenly turned around.

Grace Bennett raised his eyebrows, and the hand he was about to lower lifted again, boldly giving him an international friendly gesture.

When Anna Walker came back, this was exactly what he saw.

Anna Walker, panting, put the box on the table and asked anxiously, "Why did Fat Tiger come out? Was he here to catch you? What did you guys talk about?"

The dean's name is David Howard, but Anna Walker always calls him Fat Tiger in private.

"Just said hi," Grace Bennett glanced at him. "Why were you running? Didn't pay?"

Anna Walker let out a sigh of relief and sat down next to him: "I was across the street just now and thought you were about to get into a fight, so of course I ran over! Hey, who pissed you off just now? There was a tree in the way, I couldn't see clearly..."

As Anna Walker spoke, he looked toward the school gate, only catching a fleeting figure.

He paused, blurting out, "Brian Brooks?"

Grace Bennett: "You know him?"

"Isn't he from Class One..." Anna Walker stopped. "You don't know him?"

Receiving Grace Bennett's dumbfounded look, Anna Walker remembered that his buddy had been in the same class for three semesters and probably hadn't even memorized all the classmates' names.

But—

"Do you remember you read out six self-criticisms in front of the whole school last semester?"

Grace Bennett was silent for a moment: "Don't remember."

"Think harder," Anna Walker said. "Every time you finished your self-criticism, it was his turn to go on stage and give an award speech."

"..."

How are there so many awards to give out?

"And that grade ranking list, his name is always at the top... Oh, but you wouldn't know that, you never look at it anyway."

Oh, an honor student.

Grace Bennett understood now—no wonder he looked so annoying.

Anna Walker was so hungry his stomach was sticking to his back. He buried his head and ate a few bites of barbecue before remembering to ask, "So what did Brian Brooks do to piss you off just now?"

"Nothing much." Grace Bennett looked down at his phone. "Can you just eat quietly?"

"It's too spicy, I need to open my mouth to cool off."

Anna Walker glanced at the person next to him, then suddenly gasped and reached out to grab his sleeve: "Damn, what happened to your hand? How'd you get that cut? I didn't see that injury just now!"

Grace Bennett didn't even look up: "Scratched it by accident."

Seeing how unfazed he was, Anna Walker was shocked: "How is that an accident? That's a long gash... Doesn't it hurt?"

"Here, give me your hand, I'll blow on it for you." Anna Walker said, pretending to blow twice on the back of his hand.

Grace Bennett pushed his head away: "...Don't be gross."

He really didn't feel any pain. Although the wound was long, it was shallow. Maybe he hadn't gotten enough out of the fight earlier—when the blade cut his skin, he even felt a faint, subtle thrill.

Pretty strange. Grace Bennett stared at the back of his hand for a few seconds, and when he looked back at his phone, the super-long snake he was controlling had already crashed into the edge of the screen. Game over.

He lost interest, turned off the game, and stood up. "I'm heading back."

"So early?" Anna Walker said. "There's no one at your place anyway, it's boring to go home. Why not come to my place? I just bought a few new game cartridges."

"Not going." Grace Bennett refused flatly. He'd just gotten into a fight, was filthy, and there was still a faint metallic tang of blood in his nose. He lightly wiped his nose and said, "I'm off."

The weather in the southern city in February was unpredictable. It had been sunny in the afternoon, but soon turned into a steady drizzle.

Grace Bennett pulled up his hoodie, shoved his hands in his pockets, zigzagged through the streets, and finally walked into an old neighborhood.

Run-down little shops, low buildings, and a second-hand phone store playing some unlucky song's remix.

Grace Bennett turned into the old residential complex by the street and saw a small truck parked at the entrance. A few movers were carrying furniture upstairs, and two middle-aged women were chatting behind the truck.

Grace Bennett glanced at the blocked entrance, simply stepped aside, and decided to wait until the move was finished before going in.

The two women by the truck hadn't noticed someone behind them and were still chatting enthusiastically.

"If you ever need anything, just come upstairs and find me. The environment here isn't great, but the people are warm. Neighbors live close, and everyone helps out with little things when they can."

"Thank you, sis. I made some dumplings—once I finish tidying up, I'll bring some to each neighbor."

"No need to be so polite... Oh right, don't go to 201."

"Huh? Why not?"