"You just never take anything seriously..." she said.

"I'll definitely be serious this time. Actually, I've been working really hard these past few days..." he said.

"Spacing out in class, sneaking glances at me, even getting caught by the teacher, and then making up nonsense to the teacher—do you call that working hard?" she said.

There was no way to argue with that. Henry Thompson thought for a moment and lowered his head.

Grace Miller shot him a glance and said, "This time, aim for a score of 460. For the final exam, try to get 490, okay? As long as you get 490, you can stay in our class. Then I... then I won't go to the capital, okay?"

Henry Thompson quickly waved his hand, "Don't say that, you should go if you need to. If you don't go, your sister will come back and freeze me to death with her glare! Besides, I'm sure I can get 500 points, don't worry!"

Hearing this, Grace Miller seemed a little disappointed. She turned her head to look at the distant street view and fell silent.

Henry Thompson turned to look at her.

Her student haircut was ear-length, black and fluffy, her expression calm, looking very well-behaved.

Her profile was a bit thin, but not bony, still quite full—very pretty.

Her earlobes were round and thin—very pretty.

Her neck was long, fair—very pretty.

Her collarbone was slightly visible—very pretty.

A white camisole nightdress with blue flowers... very pretty.

Henry Thompson sniffed and hurriedly looked away just before she turned her head.

"By the way, did your sister tell you what you'll be tested on when you apply to the film academy?"

Grace Miller was silent for a moment, then replied softly and casually, "A lot of things, but my sister said that for appearance and figure, I'll definitely pass easily. For the talent show, my piano is definitely fine. The only thing is the improvisational performance—my sister says I'm too shy, and when I get nervous in front of the examiners, I'll be even less able to let go, so I need to prepare in advance and go to the capital to find some teachers for private lessons..."

Henry Thompson leaned back, put on a disdainful look, and glanced at her, "Come on, what do you mean you'll easily pass the appearance and figure part? You think being pretty gives you special privileges? Let me tell you, for an actor, being pretty or not really isn't that important! Because film is an art that can create beauty..."

"Besides, it's said that when the art exams come around, there are tens of thousands of beautiful girls of the right age gathering in the whole capital and Shuntian Prefecture. They're like groups and groups rolling in, and you—this little flower—only your sister thinks you're pretty. Put you among those beauties, and you wouldn't stand out at all..."

Listening to Henry Thompson belittle her so disdainfully, for some reason, Grace Miller felt that the little bit of disappointment she had just felt suddenly disappeared. She couldn't help but smile slightly.

A little shy, a little happy... very pretty.

Chapter 8: Father and Son

They were almost at the entrance of the neighborhood when Samuel Thompson stopped again.

By the roadside, "Old Liu's Audio & Video Store" had set a big speaker at the door, blaring out passionate love songs—suddenly, Mr. Thompson remembered the song Henry Thompson sang that day.

Of course, he wasn't there to appreciate the singing, but the lyrics.

In his view, the songs young people like these days are all about love and romance, shouting back and forth, but actually empty and boring, never getting to the point! Not just that—even the works published in those literary magazines are getting more and more restless, as if all that's left between the lines is money and nudity, as if without those, it's not real life—economy is getting more developed, but the spirit is getting more and more impoverished.

Good literary works are getting rare.

In this era, it's rare that someone can actually write lyrics with some care, which made Mr. Thompson very interested.

He parked his bike at the shop entrance and pushed the door open.

Behind the counter sat a young man, who looked up when Mr. Thompson came in. "What would you like to buy?"

Mr. Thompson said, "Recently I heard from a friend that there's a song called 'Hidden Fragrance' that's pretty good. Do you have it here?"

"'Hidden Fragrance'?" The young man looked a bit confused, paused, and asked, "Who sings it?"

"Uh... I really don't know."

The young man lowered his head, frowned and tapped his forehead, then shook his head and said, "Can't think of anyone who sang a song called 'Hidden Fragrance.' I spend all day in this shop, and not to brag, but I've listened to all the songs on the tapes and CDs sold on the market, but as for 'Hidden Fragrance'... never heard of it."

Mr. Thompson was stunned for a moment, let out an "oh," and only after a while did he come back to his senses and walk out the door.

But after pushing his bike just a few steps, he stopped again, muttering to himself, "A song like this, not sold in audio stores? No one likes it? That's strange, that shouldn't be! These young people nowadays, really... I just don't get it!"

Turning his head, he saw another audio store not far across the street.

So he pushed his bike and headed straight for it.

He went in and asked, "Do you know the song 'Hidden Fragrance'? Do you have the tape?"

Answer: Don't know, never heard of it.

He came out, feeling very puzzled.

Could it be that no one really listens to or likes this song? Is that why all these audio stores, as if by agreement, just don't stock it?