It’s not that I envy Brian Clark for his talent, strength, or popularity. I just envy Brian Clark’s fearlessness—he’s never afraid of anything, always carefree wherever he goes, and never thinks that living alone is a terrible thing. No matter where Brian Clark ends up or who he’s with, he quickly becomes close, arms around shoulders, calling people brothers, drinking and playing games. Because his grandfather was in poor health, Brian Clark became self-reliant early on, like a king among children—catching snakes, fishing, raiding bird nests, all with great skill. Wooden bows, fishing rods, slingshots, bird cages—Brian Clark seems to know how to make them all. Especially when it comes to catching loaches and fishing for eels in the country fields, he’s undoubtedly the best in town. In fact, when Brian Clark dropped out of the village school, Mr. Qi even went to see Brian Clark’s bedridden grandfather, saying he wouldn’t charge a single coin, but Brian Clark stubbornly refused, saying he just wanted to make money, not study. Mr. Qi even offered to pay Brian Clark to be his page, but Brian Clark still wouldn’t agree. The truth is, Brian Clark is doing just fine—even after Old Carter died and the dragon kiln was shut down, within a few days he was picked up by the blacksmith from Riding Dragon Alley, and started building a thatched hut and furnace on the south side of town, keeping himself busy.

Brian Clark watched as Ethan Brooks blew out the candle and set it on the table, then asked in a low voice, “Have you ever heard any strange sounds in the early morning, like…”

Ethan Brooks sat on the bench, waiting quietly for him to continue.

Brian Clark hesitated for a moment, then, for once, blushed slightly. “Like a cat yowling in spring.”

Ethan Brooks asked, “Was it Jason Smith imitating a cat, or Evan?”

Brian Clark rolled his eyes, no longer wanting to waste his breath, braced his hands on the bedboard, slowly bent his elbows, then straightened his arms, lifting his butt off the bed and his feet off the ground. Suspended in midair, he sneered, “What Evan? It’s clearly Henry Cooper. That Song kid has always liked to show off. Who knows where he saw the name ‘Evan’ and just used it without caring if it meant anything good. Henry Cooper ended up with such a young master—must be karma from a past life, or she wouldn’t have to suffer by Jason Smith’s side.”

Ethan Brooks didn’t echo the tall boy’s opinion.

Still holding that pose, Brian Clark snorted, “You really don’t get it? Why did Henry Cooper stop talking to you after you helped her carry a bucket of water? I bet it’s that petty Jason Smith, getting jealous and threatening Henry Cooper not to flirt with you, or else he’d punish her with family discipline—not just break her legs, but throw her into Mud Bottle Alley…”

Ethan Brooks couldn’t listen anymore and interrupted Brian Clark, “Jason Smith isn’t bad to her.”

Brian Clark snapped, “What do you know about good or bad?”

Ethan Brooks’s eyes were clear as he said softly, “Sometimes when she’s working in the yard, Jason Smith will sit on a bench reading some county gazetteer, and when she looks at Jason Smith, she often smiles.”

Brian Clark’s eyes went blank.

Suddenly, the flimsy wooden bed couldn’t hold Brian Clark’s weight and broke in half, sending the tall boy crashing to the floor.

Ethan Brooks squatted down, holding his head in both hands, sighing and looking a bit headache.

Brian Clark scratched his head, stood up, and, without a word of apology, just lightly kicked Ethan Brooks and grinned, “Come on, it’s just a lousy little bed. I came today to bring you some great news—worth way more than this broken bed!”

Ethan Brooks looked up.

Brian Clark said proudly, “After my master Ruan left town, he suddenly decided to dig a few wells by the creek to the south. He didn’t have enough people, so he needed help. I casually mentioned you—said there’s a short guy with decent strength. Master Ruan agreed and said you can just go over yourself in the next couple of days.”

Ethan Brooks jumped up, about to thank him.

Brian Clark raised a hand, “Stop right there! No need for thanks! Just remember it in your heart!”

Ethan Brooks grinned.

Brian Clark glanced around—the fishing rod leaning in the corner, the slingshot on the windowsill, the wooden bow hanging on the wall. The tall boy seemed to want to say something, but in the end held back.

He strode over the threshold, his boots deliberately avoiding the ashes of the talisman papers.

Ethan Brooks watched that tall figure’s back.

Brian Clark suddenly turned around, facing Ethan Brooks inside the doorway. The tall boy bent his waist, feet planted, charged forward a few steps, then threw a heavy punch, straightened up, and laughed loudly, “Master Ruan told me in private, if I practice this boxing for just a year, I’ll be able to kill a man!”

Brian Clark, still not satisfied, did a strange kicking move and laughed, “This is called ‘a good kick always hits the crotch—knock out a stubborn mule!’”

Finally, Brian Clark stuck out his thumb, pointed at his own chest, and boasted, “When Master Ruan taught me boxing, I shared some of my thoughts with him—like my insights into Old Carter’s unique porcelain-making skill, the ‘jump-knife’ technique. Master Ruan praised me as a martial arts prodigy seen only once in a hundred years. From now on, just stick with me and you’ll be living the good life!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brian Clark saw the maid next door had already entered the room, and instantly lost all interest in playing the hero.