David Clark said softly, “Don’t make trouble, just go do what you’re supposed to do. I don’t care what kind of mess you get into outside, but when you’re home, be a bit more filial to Jack Clark and grandma. Grandma nags a lot, but don’t get annoyed—every time she complains, just listen quietly to the end, it’s all for your own good. It doesn’t matter if you let outsiders down, and no one expects you to be a good person, but if you ever let down the Zhao family, I’ll smack you every time I see you, got it?”

The little brat responded with an obedient “Mm,” and said, “Bro, I’ll listen to you. I’ll go download a few classic H-manga now and upload them to your email via QQ later, make sure you check it.”

David Clark hung up the phone, helpless.

Chapter 5: Zero in English

After buying a total of 17 miscellaneous items as budgeted at the supermarket, David Clark finally completed his mission, spending a little over two hundred yuan, about 15% more than his initial estimate. This showed that Frank Thompson’s “rip-off” reputation was well-deserved. Seeing he still had enough left to buy two or three magazines, he headed to the newsstand and picked up a copy of “New Discovery” and an issue of “Economic Observer.” David Clark was never the type of bookish literary youth who read everything; he only subscribed to three magazines. Besides “New Discovery,” the other two were extremely serious and obscure overseas financial journals, rarely seen in China.

As for newspapers, he only read the relatively mainstream “China Business Journal” and “Economic Observer.” The former was also hard to find at newsstands. The writing style of “Business Journal” was pragmatic and focused on micro-level perspectives, which suited David Clark’s picky tastes. As for the “Economic Observer,” which was more popular among academic economists and government officials, it was a paper that Jack Clark insisted he read regularly.

A small incident occurred when buying the “Economic Observer.” Just as David Clark, his hands full of pots, pans, and all sorts of things, reached for the newspaper, a fair, delicate hand with bright crimson nail polish reached for a copy of “Xinwei.” The two hands brushed lightly by accident. The owner of the slender hand glanced at the country bumpkin David Clark, recoiled as if she’d caught the plague, and deliberately put some distance between herself and the unremarkable David Clark. He glanced at the heavily made-up beauty—maybe it was the abundance of plain girls at school that made her stand out so much. No wonder she was “reserved.” After paying, David Clark didn’t give it another thought. He always kept his distance from women who couldn’t be seen without makeup. In this regard, Emily Thompson did very well—her light makeup was just right, which still made David Clark occasionally think about her figure.

Back at the dorm building, a silver BMW 530 and a red BMW 320 were parked together, drawing a lot of attention. The 530, in particular, was the typical long-wheelbase version for the Chinese market. Chinese people liked their cars like they liked women’s chests—the bigger, the better. That’s why the BMW 7 Series was even more ridiculously over the top. David Clark was never interested in this, and he always looked down on Jack Clark for it.

The owner of the BMW 5 was a pair of parents, probably the parents of the young owner of the BMW 3. Rich people, huh. David Clark couldn’t help but take another look at the handsome, stylish fellow student, dressed head to toe in designer brands, dragging an LV suitcase that would make David Clark’s own luggage die of shame, wearing oversized Prada sunglasses that covered half his face, exuding a powerful aura. Some of the pretty girls passing by couldn’t help but steal glances. David Clark didn’t care much for these things, but one detail did make him see the guy in a new light. After entering the dorm, this young man—whose presence was already impressive for this school—asked the dorm manager for the room number, immediately offered a “Da Zhonghua” cigarette with a smile, and even helped light it. The dorm manager was so flattered he was nearly moved to tears, almost offering to personally show them the way.

David Clark followed the family up to the third floor, then walked into the same dorm room.

Is this what they call fate?

David Clark broke out in a cold sweat again. Could he really get along with such a rich kid in the same room? But the family’s good manners quickly put him at ease. They offered David Clark and Frank Thompson local specialties from Jiangsu and Zhejiang and invited them to lunch—truly down-to-earth people. David Clark was fine, but Frank Thompson was bursting with pride, just like the dorm manager, as if having an awesome roommate made him invincible. After the initial small talk and introductions, the guy with the even rarer name than David Clark, called Max Taylor, pulled out his laptop and started playing FIFA. His parents, satisfied with how tidy Frank Thompson kept the dorm, went to the balcony to call the counselor and school leaders to invite them to a meal.

David Clark didn’t really play soccer and was a total outsider. Frank Thompson, on the other hand, was a half-baked fake fan, so he pulled up a chair next to Max Taylor to act as an advisor, like a scheming strategist. He rattled off theory after theory, and even Max Taylor was soon convinced to see Frank Thompson as a trustworthy ally. After all this, the dorm atmosphere finally started to warm up. David Clark then took out a ballpoint pen and began doodling on his copy of the “Economic Observer” at the corner of his desk.