Michael Bolton looked up in astonishment, sweeping his gaze over the other classmates at the table. Everyone shook their heads, saying they had never heard of this person. When his eyes returned to Brian Lee's face, Brian Lee had already shrugged and was grinning smugly. “I’m telling you, Mike, you’d better stick with me these couple of days since you’re back. Drink a bit more every day, and your tolerance will come back.”

Michael Bolton couldn’t believe it and looked around the table at his classmates again, finally fixing his gaze on Brian Lee. “I! Damn it! Am not drunk! You’re all the ones who are drunk!”

There were already two boxes of empty bottles on the floor. Given the number of people at the table, it wasn’t that much, but aside from this explanation, Michael Bolton really couldn’t think of any other reason.

Brian Lee laughed heartily, waved his hand, and said to Michael Bolton, “Alright, you say he was our high school classmate, then pull up a photo and let us see what this guy looks like!”

“Fine.” Michael Bolton nodded, then took out his phone and started scrolling through Steven Harris’s Moments.

But strangely, even though he had just sent Steven Harris a WeChat message before leaving home, which should have put the chat at the very top of his list, now, no matter how he searched—whether in the chat list or his contacts—he simply couldn’t find Steven Harris’s name.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find it?” Brian Lee teased, leaning over to look at the phone next to Michael Bolton’s head.

Sweat was already starting to bead on Michael Bolton’s forehead. He quickly exited WeChat and opened Weibo. But again, he couldn’t find Steven Harris’s name in his following list.

This was absolutely impossible! From the moment he sent that WeChat message to Steven Harris until now, Michael Bolton’s phone hadn’t left his pocket, yet now, all content related to Steven Harris on any social account had mysteriously vanished!

Brian Lee slapped Michael Bolton on the shoulder. “Come on, stop pretending. At worst, we’ll let you drink a little less for the rest of the night. Boss! Bring us another case!”

“No… this can’t be… this can’t be happening!”

Michael Bolton’s face had turned deathly pale. He looked up, sweeping his gaze over his classmates one by one, but every single person looked at him with confusion, puzzlement, and concern.

“I… I’ll check one more time.” Michael Bolton took a deep breath, staring hard at his classmates in front of him. “Answer me seriously—are you all in on this, playing a prank on me? If this is a joke, you can stop now.”

Seeing Michael Bolton’s expression, Brian Lee immediately grew a bit anxious, no longer joking around as before, his face turning serious. “Mike, we’re not joking. We really don’t know this person!”

“Yeah, yeah! Michael Bolton, are you alright?”

“Seriously, never heard of him!”

“I, Daniel Thompson, swear to the heavens, I’ve never known anyone named Steven Harris in my life. If I break this oath, may I be struck by lightning!”

The other classmates also realized that something was really wrong with Michael Bolton and all started chiming in, looking at him sincerely.

Michael Bolton staggered to his feet, gave everyone a bitter smile, shook his head, and turned to leave. Brian Lee quickly stood up and hurried after him. “Hey! Mike! What’s going on with you!”

“I…”

Michael Bolton turned his head, looking at the concern in Brian Lee’s eyes, his face still pale as a sheet. It was already past nine in the evening, and though the summer street was bustling with people, he felt a bone-chilling cold and fear.

“I’m not feeling well. I’ll go home and rest. You guys keep drinking.” Michael Bolton sighed, patted Brian Lee, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Brian Lee looked at Michael Bolton’s face for a long moment before nodding. “Alright, then go home and get some rest. If anything comes up, call me.”

Michael Bolton nodded, said nothing more, and walked home.

Chapter Four: Traces of Existence

Michael Bolton returned home to find his parents still awake, sitting on the sofa watching TV. When she saw him come in, Michael Bolton’s mother asked in surprise, “Why are you back so early? Didn’t you say you were having a late-night snack with friends? Come, have a bowl of mung bean soup first.”

With that, Michael Bolton’s mother stood up and was about to head to the kitchen, but Michael Bolton stopped her. “Mom, let me ask you something. Do you remember Steven Harris?”

Steven Harris’s family had always lived not far from Michael Bolton, only moving away in high school. When they were kids, he would come to wait for Michael Bolton downstairs almost every morning so they could go to school together, and coming over to play on weekends or holidays was a regular thing. Even if those classmates had somehow forgotten Steven Harris, Michael Bolton believed at least his parents would never forget.

But Michael Bolton’s mother thought for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. “I don’t remember that name.”

Looking at his mother’s face, the fear in Michael Bolton’s heart grew even larger, and he couldn’t help but shout, “Mom! Steven Harris! The one who grew up with me, who was my classmate in elementary, middle, and high school! He always came over for dinner and always praised your cooking! You really don’t remember at all?”

Michael Bolton’s mother frowned, thought hard, then shook her head and smiled apologetically. “Xiaoyu, Mom’s getting old. I really don’t remember.”