Michael Bolton's father had remained silent throughout Michael Bolton's account, not saying a word. Only now did he nod, look up at Michael Bolton, and say, "You did the right thing."

A warm feeling filled Michael Bolton's heart. Although he had known all along that his parents would definitely agree with his decision, hearing it with his own ears still made him even happier.

Michael Bolton's mother picked up the groceries she had just bought from the floor and headed toward the kitchen. "Since you've resigned, just stay at home for a few days. There's no rush to find a job for now. Your dad and I can easily afford to feed you for a while longer."

Hearing his mother's words, Michael Bolton suddenly felt like crying.

Chapter Two: The Disappeared Person (Part One)

At dinner, his parents didn't mention work again, afraid it would affect Michael Bolton's mood. They just casually chatted about things from Michael Bolton's childhood. His father, who never touched alcohol, even made an exception and went downstairs to buy two bottles of beer, drinking one each with Michael Bolton.

After dinner, Michael Bolton insisted on helping his mother clear the table, but she pushed him away. "Go watch TV and relax after eating, let me handle this. By the way, Little Michael, since you rarely come home, why not take these days to unwind? Go see your old classmates and friends, have a meal together or something. If you don't have money, I'll give you some."

As she spoke, Michael Bolton's mother turned back to the sofa to rummage through her purse to give Michael Bolton money, but Michael Bolton quickly stopped her.

Michael Bolton sat on the sofa with his father, watching TV. The prime-time historical drama "Emperor Fusu" was playing on the national channel, but he didn't take in a single thing. Michael Bolton's father kept smoking one cigarette after another at the coffee table, not going out to the balcony as usual, and even Michael Bolton's mother, who would normally chase him out, didn't say a word this time.

Though they tried to appear calm and composed, deep down they were still worried about Michael Bolton.

Feeling truly down, Michael Bolton quickly took a shower and returned to his room. Although he worked out of town and his younger brother was away at school, every time he came home, nothing in the room had changed. In the small room, there was a bunk bed, and on the wall above the headboard was still the Ronaldinho poster that he and his brother had been obsessed with as kids. Even though Michael Bolton hadn't slept there for half a year, the sheets were still clean and tidy, without a speck of dust—clearly, they were still being washed and changed regularly.

Michael Bolton lay on his bed on the lower bunk, still feeling gloomy. After a moment's thought, he took out his phone and called Steven Harris.

Steven Harris had been Michael Bolton's classmate since elementary school. They went to the same school and were in the same class all the way through middle and high school. It wasn't until after the college entrance exam, when they got into different universities, that they were no longer inseparable. Even so, every time they came home for the holidays, meeting up for drinks and a chat was a must.

For more than ten years before college, Steven Harris was the closest person in Michael Bolton's life besides his younger brother Jason Bolton. They collected snack cards together, pooled money to buy comic books, skipped class to play games, and even liked the same pretty girl in their class...

After graduating from college, Steven Harris returned to their hometown, where his family arranged a job for him at a local public institution. The pay was good and the work was easy. Thinking about it, it had been half a year since Michael Bolton last saw Steven Harris. Lately, he'd been feeling down, and Jason Bolton hadn't chatted with Steven Harris on WeChat either. So why not take the chance to meet up today?

But strangely, when Jason Bolton dialed the number, the operator's message said, "The number you have dialed is not in service."

That was impossible!

Not only had Steven Harris never changed his number, and even if he had, he would have told him. Even if the number had changed, at most the old one would be turned off or suspended, but it couldn't possibly become an invalid number so suddenly.

Michael Bolton tried sending Steven Harris a message on WeChat, but got no response. Checking his Moments, Michael Bolton realized Steven Harris hadn't posted anything for three months.

What was going on? Michael Bolton was suddenly full of questions. Now that he thought about it, it had been about that long since he'd last been in touch with Steven Harris. What... had happened to him?

Just as he was puzzling over it, Michael Bolton's phone suddenly rang. Looking at the caller ID, it was his high school classmate Brian Lee.

Michael Bolton answered, and immediately heard Brian Lee's excited voice on the other end: "Hey, man, guess what I'm doing!"

Brian Lee's speech was already a bit slurred, and after he finished, he burst out laughing. Michael Bolton said, "Drinking, right?"

Brian Lee laughed even harder. "That's right! A bunch of us from high school got together, and we just happened to be talking about you, so we decided to give you a call. How about it? Jealous that we can still hang out back home? It's a shame you're not here—several of the girls said they wanted to see you!"

Michael Bolton was surprised at the coincidence and paused for a moment. "Are there a lot of you?"

"Not that many, just seven or eight of us who used to hang out together. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, just those of us who still live nearby. That's already a pretty good turnout! It's just a pity you're not here. But that's okay, we'll drink and you can watch, wahahaha!"