After thinking for a moment, he stuffed the remaining half pack of Daming Lake into his pocket, turned around as he walked away, and called out behind him, “I’ll take this half pack of cigarettes, I’ll pay you back with a whole box tomorrow! I’m not feeling well, I’ll head off first!”

A miserable wail came from behind.

“Don’t, come on, at least leave me a few...”

“Henry Thompson, go quickly, we’ll cover you!”

……

Following the memories in his mind, Henry Thompson quickly rode his bike back home.

This was a neighborhood called Shengshi Garden. He’d lived here ever since he could remember.

Arriving downstairs, he locked his bike and didn’t rush upstairs. Instead, he looked up.

Pleasant piano music, tinkling like spring water, flowed out from a window left slightly open... Hmm, if it were the old Henry Thompson, he definitely wouldn’t have known what piece was being played, but as luck would have it, the current Henry Thompson did—“The Girl with the Flaxen Hair,” a classic by Debussy.

And it was played note for note exactly as Henry Thompson remembered.

Henry Thompson instinctively reached for a cigarette, but after a moment’s thought, put it back—this was his own neighborhood, everyone was a familiar face. If someone saw him smoking and told his parents, that would be trouble.

The roar of an engine grew from distant to near, the manhole cover clanged once, then again, and the car turned the corner... Henry Thompson withdrew his gaze from above and turned his head, only to see a red convertible sports car. But when he saw the two bold, old-style Chinese characters on the car’s badge, he was instantly thrown for a loop...

Great Wall!

Hey, Chairman Wei Jianjun, did you know the Great Wall over here is making sports cars now? Do you really have to keep relying on the H6 for sales? How do you even manage?

With a screech, the car stopped in front of Henry Thompson.

Only at this moment did Henry Thompson finally manage to tear his gaze away from those two “Great Wall” characters and glance up.

An extremely beautiful face.

She got out, closed the door, and tossed her long, straight black hair...

Even without heels, she must be close to 1.7 meters tall.

Hmm, but her gaze was a bit cold.

After just one look at her, Henry Thompson quickly looked away.

In his memory, he seemed a little afraid of this woman.

Probably because, when he was a kid, Henry Thompson tricked her little sister with candy for a kiss, only to get a good beating from this older sister. That grudge was set then and there, and after more than ten years, her icy face had almost become a shadow in Henry Thompson’s heart. Even now, the current Henry Thompson was affected—his first instinct on seeing her was to avoid her.

The convertible top slowly rose. The woman walked over and stopped not far from Henry Thompson, listened to the piano music, looked up at the third floor, then glanced coldly at Henry Thompson.

“Jingxue-jie, hello.”

If it were the old Henry Thompson, he’d probably have pretended not to see her and stayed as far away as possible, but now, Henry Thompson took the initiative to greet her.

Olivia Miller nodded, said nothing, brushed past Henry Thompson, and went upstairs.

Her figure was so striking it was hard to look away.

Henry Thompson gave a helpless, bitter smile.

After she’d gone up for a while, Henry Thompson glanced again at the “Great Wall” logo on the oval badge, muttered something under his breath, and finally went upstairs.

Henry Thompson’s home was also on the third floor, right across from Olivia Miller and Grace Miller’s place.

When he got upstairs, the piano music from across the hall had stopped. Henry Thompson took out his key and opened the door, and was immediately hit by a choking smell of smoke. He poked his head in, and sure enough, in the study, Samuel Thompson was holding a cigarette in one hand and writing furiously with the other.

Henry Thompson blurted out, “Hey, Dad, got inspiration again?”

Through the haze, Samuel Thompson glanced at his son. “Ah, couldn’t sleep last night and thought of that tree in the old house’s yard. So, I’m writing about it now, almost done.”

Henry Thompson closed the door, changed into slippers, and walked over. He looked up at the study ceiling and said, “Dad, Mom went grocery shopping, right? She’ll be back soon?”

Samuel Thompson found this a bit odd, but still took a moment from his busy writing to glance at his son, then followed his gaze to the ceiling. Suddenly realizing, he quickly stubbed out his cigarette and hurried to open the window. “Oh, I forgot!”

Henry Thompson smiled, said nothing, closed the door, and left.

Although calling a stranger “Dad” should have felt awkward, it seemed the memories in his mind had an effect. When he called out “Dad,” it didn’t feel difficult at all.

After a shower, Henry Thompson sat in the living room, turned on the TV, and zoned out on the sofa.

This world, both strange and familiar, left him a bit lost.

Second year of high school, seventeen years old, mom’s an accountant, dad’s a Chinese teacher, published a novel when he was young—of course, it didn’t sell much. Oh, and there’s a little celebrity living across the hall, but somehow their relationship is in the negatives...

Wait, hold on!

Henry Thompson’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if he’d just remembered something. He rushed to his bedroom, and soon dug out a double-disc CD from the small bookshelf by his bed—this was a gift from Grace Miller—one disc was a CD with ten songs, the other was an MV disc with two lead singles.