“What are you thinking about? I’ve already moved on, he’s the only one left now. I’m not stupid enough to pick up sesame seeds and drop a watermelon. In a while, I’ll have him go with me to buy a car. After that, the two of us can drive out to the countryside for some fresh air.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you.”

……

“Hey, Lily, hahahahaha…”

“What’s the good news? You sound so happy.”

“Lily, you know what? He just called and asked me to go to that KTV on Jianguo Road, and he was acting all mysterious about it.”

“Is he planning to give you a surprise?”

“Oh, these young guys nowadays, they’re just too inexperienced, still trying to hide things from me. I think he’s going to propose, because last night when we were together, I saw receipts for cake and flowers in his wallet.”

“Congratulations, looks like you’re about to be taken.”

“I’m already at the KTV… Hello, excuse me, which way to the Emperor Suite? That way? Okay, thank you, bro.”

“Aha, give me a glass of Love Potion, so I won’t shed a tear tonight…”

“I’ve gotten used to your sudden self-centeredness, so carefree, seeing through everything in life…”

“So noisy, seriously, why propose at a KTV?”

“You’re showing off, aren’t you? Don’t forget, I’m still single.”

“Alright, alright, Lily, don’t worry, I know a few of his buddies, all from rich families. I’ll introduce you to one soon, you’re not lacking in any way.

Whew… finally found it. Okay, I have to pretend I don’t know anything, hahaha, I need to act surprised;

Dating a younger guy really is like being his mom, you have to think of everything for him.”

“Creak…”

“Here they come, here they come!”

“Wow!!!!”

“Welcome, welcome!!”

“Wow!!!”

“Looks like there are quite a few people here. Did you invite all your friends to witness this, Grace? Congratulations.”

“Welcome to the club!”

“Welcome to the club!”

“Welcome to… the AIDS Club!”

Chapter Two: Endings and Beginnings

On a bench, a man in a worn leather jacket closed the comic book in his hands and set it beside him.

The comic’s cover showed two women on the phone, one in formal attire, the other with a slightly disheveled look. In the corner of the cover, blood-tinted snowflakes drifted down, creating a funereal, oppressive atmosphere.

The man in the jacket took out a cigarette, bit it, lit up, exhaled a smoke ring, then pursed his lips, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

A Lamborghini drove over, braking just as it passed the bench and coming to a steady stop.

A man in a wine-red suit got out of the car. After getting out, he exchanged a glance with the man in the jacket—they clearly knew each other, but neither was in a hurry to greet the other.

The man in the suit pulled out an e-cigarette, loaded a cartridge while casually glancing around, and finally his gaze landed on the comic book on the bench.

“Is this the boss’s new work?” the man in the suit asked.

“Yeah.” The man in the jacket nodded. His hair was greasy and heavy, and even the winter wind couldn’t budge his bangs.

“How’s it taste?”

“Bland.”

Hearing this, the man in the suit narrowed his eyes, reached out, and started flipping through the comic.

The art, composition, and design were flawless—definitely the boss’s level.

Especially the final page, a large illustration spanning both sides. Whether in terms of plot or the shift in art style, it delivered a huge impact.

The initial scar literature narrative and the neon city art style both reversed at the end, creating a double twist. A good story, and a good comic.

But the man in the suit still nodded in agreement:

“It really is too bland.”

They knew the boss’s works—he liked to pursue that ultimate sense of rupture, whether in plot or visual rendering, always creating intense pressure, making you even breathe carefully as you read.

But this comic, compared to the boss’s previous works, was like a chef used to making heavy dishes suddenly serving up a plate of broccoli, seasoned with just a pinch of salt.

“You guys are early.”

Across the street, a man and a woman were walking together.

They were siblings. The younger brother wore a black down jacket, hat, and scarf, hunching his neck and shuffling his feet as he walked, shivering a bit—clearly not used to the cold outdoors.

The older sister wore a white down jacket and sky-blue jeans. She didn’t have an oval face, but was a bit round, though her features were delicate, giving off a very pure vibe.

“Emily, Lucas, you’re here.”

The man in the suit greeted them warmly, especially enthusiastic toward the girl.

“Mark Bennett, wipe your drool.”

Every little brother has a natural hostility toward any man trying to be his sister’s boyfriend, and Lucas Carter was no exception.

But every prospective brother-in-law is always extremely tolerant of his future brother-in-law;