Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife-Chapter 943: What Did the Ear Do Wrong?

Mary Scott and James Jerome paused in their tracks. Not far away, Adam Piers, Zoe Thatcher, Brian Joule, and Stella Murray also stopped when they heard James was composing poetry. They gathered around, but the mountain path was so narrow that they could only stand in a single line. Now, every single one of them was eagerly watching James.

The cameraman at the back found the scene hilarious and made sure to capture everyone standing neatly in line. It had a vivid "sit together and share fruit" vibe.

The livestream viewers, initially uninterested in this old-fashioned poetry hobby often associated with seniors, couldn’t help but grow curious seeing all these celebrities and actors so expectant. They began to wonder if James might just come up with a phrase for the ages.

Curiosity created anticipation. As the camera drew back and panned across each person’s face, the audience’s expectation only kept building higher and higher.

When James finally finished writing the final character, he lifted his head in satisfaction. But then he noticed something felt off around him. Looking left, then right, he said in confusion, "What are you all doing?"

"Of course, waiting to admire your masterpiece." Stella replied, breathing warm air into her hands, clearly chilled to the bone.

Seeing this, James realized that everyone had been standing here for quite a while, just waiting for him. His face flushed instantly. "Oh, well... that wasn’t really necessary."

"Oh, it’s definitely necessary," Zoe exclaimed cheerfully. Having been paired with Adam Piers for the day, she’d been in high spirits all along and responded enthusiastically to James.

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Even Lambert Norman, standing off-screen, let his lips curl into a mild smile.

James shot an aggrieved look at Mary Scott. Damn this girl! He had just mentioned it casually, yet here she was, dragging so many people over.

Mary caught James’s resentful gaze and tried to stifle her laughter as she urged him, "Mr. Foster, hurry up, everyone’s freezing here."

"Oh, now you’re concerned? Hmph." James snorted haughtily on purpose, then cleared his throat theatrically while lifting up his phone. "Alright then, prepare for some mediocrity!"

"Bring it on," Adam teased.

James’s face grew even redder, but being a seasoned old trouper, he maintained composure. "Listen carefully now! Ahem! Ah..."

"Cough, cough, cough!" Before James could finish his first "ah," Mary, who was closest, broke into a coughing fit, tears streaming from her eyes. She probably hadn’t expected Mr. Foster to compose modern poetry — the kind that started with dramatic "ah"s — and was transported back to her middle school days.

Her reaction drew everyone’s attention. James also looked her way. Mary quickly waved her hands. "It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Please continue, Mr. Foster!"

James gave her a look of mild disapproval that screamed "like a disappointed school principal," then began again: "Ah..." This time, no one else could hold it in.

Adam’s amber eyes, which resembled Brandon Piers’s just slightly, glimmered with amusement. "Mr. Foster, you’re really reminding me of my grade school language teacher."

The comments section erupted in laughter and chimed in, "What did your grade school teacher ever do to deserve this?"

James grumbled, "You’re all so disrespectful! Don’t you know the phrase ’honor your teacher and respect their teachings’?" He pretended to flick dust off his sleeve melodramatically. "Alright then! Ah! Gazing at South Mountain, the majestic northern peaks; ah! Pristine white snow among the clouds; ah! Snow recedes, revealing pine trees alive with spirit... ah..."

As for the poem itself? Not a single soul remembered a word, as all their minds were stuck on James’s drawn-out melodic "ah"s, looping on repeat.

When James finally finished his masterpiece, an eerie silence fell, broken only by the soft rustle of snowfall.

The comment section also quieted down until Simon Baker’s voice came through the earpiece, urging everyone to continue onward. Only then did they snap out of their daze. Brian Joule gave James a complicated look. "Mr. Foster, your poem is... unforgettable."

"Really?" Stella asked sincerely, turning to Brian.

Zoe whispered softly, "I mean, remembering the endless ’ah’s probably counts as unforgettable, right?"

Mary looked at everyone, trying to say something, until – out of control – she blurted, "Ah! That..."

At that, the group broke into uncontrollable laughter, while the comments section filled with rapid "ah ah ah!" spams.

James, looking deeply aggrieved, said, "Was my poem really so bad?"

Everyone gave him a simultaneous thumbs-up. Adam lazily added from the back, "Between poems and rocks, I think next time Mr. Foster should try smashing a rock on his chest instead."

The comments section went hysterical once more, exploding with questions like, "What did our ears ever do to deserve this?"

James coughed theatrically. "You just lack the taste to appreciate it."

And with that, their comedic segment ended, and they finally resumed their journey.

Winter at South Mountain was biting cold, and the higher they went, the colder it grew. Just standing around, everyone was already chilled to the core. Despite wearing several layers of thermal clothing underneath and a windproof, waterproof jacket on top, Mary Scott still trembled slightly, her nose and cheeks flushed red, looking tender and rosy on the screen. It immediately triggered a flood of compliments from appearance-obsessed viewers.

Lambert Norman, walking just behind Mary, furrowed his brows deeper and deeper. He said something to the cameraman, who then adjusted the focus onto James. Lambert, on the other hand, draped the military coat handed to him by his assistant over Mary’s shoulders. "Put this on."

Mary flinched at the sudden weight and turned her head to see Lambert. In a small voice, she said, "You don’t have to. We’re going to climb later, and this will just get in the way."

"No matter. If you get too warm later, you can always take it off." Lambert’s tone brooked no argument.

With so many cameras and eyes around, Mary couldn’t openly argue with him. Reluctantly, she nodded and reigned in the urge to take off the coat immediately.

A few people noticed their little exchange, but recalling the events of the morning, no one said much. The cameramen tactfully avoided pointing lenses at them, though Mary’s safety assistant, Xiao Fang, glanced their way a few times before getting subtly reminded by a cameraman to stay quiet.

Adam Piers, burdened with David Locke’s character for the day, noted the incident. "Mr. Norman, isn’t this a bit unfair?" he teased.

Lambert glanced at Adam and didn’t move. Since this had been an impromptu mountain climb, everyone was only carrying minimal gear. That military coat was specifically prepared for Mary, and Lambert could already tell that Adam’s words were on someone else’s behalf, likely David’s.

Disliking David, Lambert naturally extended that annoyance to Adam as well.

Mary, caught in the awkward tension, quickly thought of something. She opened her backpack and pulled out a red cloak with a white fur trim — something David had prepared for her earlier.

Compared to the bulky military coat, the cloak was both warm and stylish. Smiling through the chill, Mary handed the military jacket to Lambert. "I’ll just wear this instead." ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Lambert looked at the coat Mary was holding out and the apologetic yet helpless smile on her face. Layers of coldness swelled in his chest — so, he still couldn’t compare to that man?

"Lambert..." Mary lowered her voice and called softly when he didn’t take the coat. Her red-tipped fingers trembled in the sharp wind.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Lambert saw her frostbitten fingers and sighed inwardly before finally accepting the jacket.

Mary secretly let out a breath of relief and tied the snowy white-trimmed red cloak around herself. Immediately, the chill subsided. Sensing the ripple of activity, one of the cameramen turned his lens toward her.

Out of professional instinct, Mary offered a slight smile toward the camera, effortlessly easing into her role once more.

Lambert was momentarily dazed, while the cameramen were visibly entranced. The comment section drowned in admiration.

David, catching this out of the corner of his eye, suddenly looked up. In the camera frame stood Mary Scott, draped in her striking red cloak. Behind her, white-capped mountains rose against the horizon. Though she was merely standing there casually, she seemed like an ethereal fairy who had accidentally graced the mortal world with her presence — her beauty absolutely breathtaking.

Even someone like David, long accustomed to Mary’s face, couldn’t help the faint quiver in his heart at that moment.

......

Goodnight~

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