David Foster yawned, walked out of his little dark room, and half-heartedly practiced a set of boxing moves on the small stone terrace next to his pile of junk. For someone with his freakishly strong body, these boxing routines naturally didn’t help much. Still, David Foster was, after all, a monster-level genius. Although he thought of himself as just having an amazing memory—not necessarily high intelligence—he always knew to prepare to hide his true abilities. If he ever had to reveal his real skills, it would be better for people to find out he practiced boxing every day than to be dragged off to some abnormal human research center like a monster.

He thought about how he’d been following Emily Sullivan every day this week to write on the blackboard, and couldn’t help but gently rub his thumb and forefinger together, as if there was still some of that smooth chalk dust on his fingertips. For him, this was the feeling of happiness.

Saturday was always his favorite day. Not for any special reason—just that during the weekend’s big cleaning, he could openly follow Emily Sullivan downstairs to that huge blackboard and practice chalk writing for fun.

That blackboard was truly enormous. If you wanted to fill it all, it was honestly more exhausting than dragging scrap steel out of the junkyard every night.

But there was no helping it—after all, Emily was the publicity committee member of the student council.

He liked this kind of hard work.

※※※

The campus was a bit hot in the afternoon. The lush green trees all around, though deep in color, couldn’t block out the heat of the red sun above. There were patches of grass here and there, but by this time, all the students had finished the big cleaning and gone home, so there wasn’t a soul on the lawns. About ten steps past the sports field, there was a platform built from crushed stones, and on it stood a blackboard so big it was almost unbelievable. The blackboard had a rain canopy above it, which now blocked the scorching sunlight. Compared to the surroundings, the blackboard looked even darker and cooler. If it were spotless, it would surely look just like a piece of black cold jade... Unfortunately, at this moment, it was covered in red and white chalk writing.

David Foster and Emily Sullivan imitated the Monkey King, shading their eyes with their hands as they stared up at the huge blackboard, then suddenly glanced at each other and broke into silly grins.

This was the result of their week’s work. Although the content was nothing more than some foreign language learning, extracurricular activities, motivational essays—stuff as cliché as it gets—the densely packed chalk writing across the whole blackboard still filled these two young people with a sense of accomplishment.

David Foster pointed to the area with the densest white chalk in regular script and said, “Look, the piece by Maugham I wrote is still the best.” He softly recited, “Their singing is a painful moan, a sigh of despair, a wail of misery; it’s simply not a human sound. It’s the cry of an infinitely sorrowful soul, just with a touch of melodic harmony, and the final note is the last sob of a human. Life is too hard, life is too cruel, and the song is the last protest of despair. That is the song of the river.”

Emily Sullivan quietly listened to him recite the passage with feeling, and suddenly noticed his eyes were closed. She couldn’t help but smile, “Your memory is scary.” David Foster just smiled.

Emily Sullivan suddenly frowned and said, “Maugham’s other piece about lights is more positive. Isn’t the one you picked a bit too gloomy? Won’t Teacher Hu have something to say when she checks on Monday?”

David Foster shrugged indifferently and said, “Life is hard, that’s just a fact. As for being gloomy? Maybe the boatmen’s chants are just a way to find some fun in those tough days. But if people can still remember to make themselves happy in that situation, isn’t that positive enough?”

Emily Sullivan smiled, “I can’t win an argument with you.” After a quiet moment, she looked at him with concern and said, “You’ve had a tough time these years, haven’t you?”

David Foster grinned, showing his white teeth, and said, “Not at all! Living alone couldn’t be easier, and I don’t have parents nagging me all the time.”

Seeing his forced smile, Emily Sullivan sighed softly and didn’t say more, just smiled, “All done, let’s go.”

The two of them put the chalk and rulers back in the Youth League office on the first floor, then went to the bike shed to get their bikes. There was a long, straight road from the teaching building to the school gate, and David Foster and she walked along it, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, Emily Sullivan said, “Almost forgot—like we said last weekend, today I’m treating you to crispy skin.” She looked at him with a sweet smile.

David Foster felt a jolt in his heart, his face full of happiness, “That couldn’t be better.” Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure flicker near the school gate in the distance.

Anyone else probably wouldn’t have seen clearly, but David Foster was the type who could kill mosquitoes by moonlight without turning on the lights at night. With just a glance, he saw it was Henry Carter from his class. He frowned, thinking there weren’t many students left at school at this hour—who was Henry Carter waiting for? He’d heard classmates say Henry Carter was pretty close with some local thugs... At this thought, David Foster suddenly felt uneasy, as if something unpleasant was waiting for him.

He looked at Emily Sullivan, who was still chatting and laughing beside him, then suddenly stopped and said gently, “Emily, you go on ahead today. I just remembered I have something to do at school.”

Emily Sullivan looked around in surprise and said, “There’s hardly anyone left at school. What do you need to do?”