Brian Foster was smoking very cautiously himself, but after glancing at Chris Brooks, he commented with a grunt, “Little Brooks, your smoking posture is pretty cool.”

Chris Brooks was a seasoned smoker—even the way he flicked his ash had a certain rhythm to it.

“Practice makes perfect, that’s all.”

Chris Brooks replied indifferently. Brian Foster grew even more envious; at this moment, Chris Brooks’s expression was both pretentious and infuriating, but honestly, he did look quite handsome.

Before they even finished their cigarettes, a group of people rode over on bikes from not far away. Brian Foster quickly stubbed out his cigarette and reminded Chris Brooks, “Hurry up and throw it away.”

Brian Foster’s action startled Chris Brooks as well. “Are there teachers among them?”

“No teachers, all our classmates,” Brian Foster explained.

Chris Brooks almost tossed his cigarette too, but after hearing this, he changed his mind and held back. He had a lot of respect for teachers, but what was there to care about with high school classmates? They’d all graduated—what could they do now?

This group of students was probably also here to pick up their admission letters, full of anticipation and longing for college life, chatting and laughing along the way. When they passed by Chris Brooks and Brian Foster, they all stopped.

Chris Brooks looked extremely disheveled now, with the fatigue of a hangover and the confusion of a new life. He sat there sloppily, legs sprawled, a cigarette dangling from his lips. If not for his 18-year-old face, he’d look just like a greasy middle-aged man.

The classmates all stared at Chris Brooks in shock. At Gangcheng No. 1 High School, which focused on education, even female students weren’t allowed to have long hair, so smoking was pretty much seen as a sign of degeneration.

“Are you all here to pick up your admission letters?”

Brian Foster felt it was necessary to say something.

None of the students replied; instead, they shifted their gaze to a girl in the middle.

This young girl was truly beautiful. The hem of her floral dress, falling below her knees, fluttered gently in the summer evening breeze, radiating a bright liveliness. She was at least 1.67 meters tall. Because of the heat, her cheeks were tinged with a faint blush. She had a straight nose, rosy lips, a fair chin, and clear, bright eyes beneath thick lashes. Her smooth hair naturally draped over her shoulders.

As the girl stopped her orange bicycle and walked over, Chris Brooks could even catch a faint scent of lilies.

“Chris Brooks, how can you smoke!”

Her voice was quite pleasant, though tinged with anger.

Chris Brooks had no idea who she was. He could only turn to look at Brian Foster, but Brian Foster didn’t get his meaning and just stared back at him, wide-eyed. With no other choice, Chris Brooks asked, “Who are you?”

“Wow.”

The group of soon-to-be college students let out a collective gasp, especially the girls, who couldn’t help but shake their heads. Just like in TV dramas, men really do change their hearts quickly—confessing to someone last night, and now pretending not to know her just because he was rejected.

“Chris, you shouldn’t be like this.”

Another boy stepped out from the crowd, tall and with a warm smile. “Smoking isn’t your style. I hope you can move on from the shadow of heartbreak and embrace a bright future. We’re all looking forward to your progress.”

His words sounded like comfort and encouragement, but there was an unmistakable air of hypocrisy and condescension. Chris Brooks had been a boss for many years. Though he wasn’t arrogant by nature, he didn’t like others stepping on him to show off—especially when they barely knew each other.

Even though Chris Brooks was sitting on the ground, he lifted his head, straightened his chest, and stared calmly and silently at the boy until the latter grew uncomfortable. Only then did he say, with a scrutinizing tone, “And who the hell are you?”

A successful man has both a fearless attitude and an accumulated authority that these kids who haven’t entered society can’t match. Even in terms of posturing, this guy couldn’t hold a candle to Chris Brooks, so he immediately lost his momentum.

“You’re such a disappointment.”

The boy threw out this harsh but hollow remark, then turned to the pretty girl and said, “Julia, let’s go. Don’t bother with people like him.”

The girl didn’t listen. She took a few more steps toward Chris Brooks and said, “If you want to pretend you don’t know me, there’s nothing I can do. But I made it very clear last night—I don’t want to date anyone before graduating from college.”

“If you smoke again, I’ll tell your mom.”

Chris Brooks was stunned for a moment. He had just come back to eighteen years ago and didn’t want to greet his parents in this way. Plus, today was the day to pick up the admission letter, and quite a few students passing by had already stopped to watch.

After thinking it over, Chris Brooks obediently threw away his cigarette.

The girl smiled slightly, with a hint of pride. She took a bottle of mineral water from her bike basket. “Wash your face. We’ll go get the admission letter in a bit.”

“Thanks, I have my own.”

Chris Brooks refused directly.

“Pfft, the same old hard-to-get routine—acting cool after a failed confession,” the boy from earlier said disdainfully.

But the girl was quite stubborn. Even though Chris Brooks didn’t want it, she still placed the water by his feet, snorted coldly, and pushed her cute orange bike into the school.

After they had completely left, Chris Brooks suddenly realized, “She’s Julia Bennett, isn’t she?”

“Don’t pretend in front of me.”