At eleven o’clock at night, Mason Jarvis’s mother brought in a bowl of noodles, her voice brimming with maternal care. "Son, eat this and then go to bed. You can finish your homework when you get up tomorrow."

Mason Jarvis nodded obediently. He put down his pen, closed his book, and took a bite with his chopsticks. A smile spread across his youthful face. "Mom, these noodles are delicious."

’He knew his mom was just trying to do what was best for him, so he didn’t want to let her down.’

Mason Jarvis’s mother gave a genuine smile and patted his head. "Tomorrow, I’ll go buy some pork ribs and make you a tomato, corn, and pork rib stew."

Mason nodded.

After the door to his room closed, he quietly got up, flicked on his desk lamp, and continued with his homework.

Holly Winslow found some time to have a long, serious talk with Mason’s mother about his situation.

She suggested creating a reasonable schedule for Mason’s study time, emphasizing that occasional relaxation was essential.

She also advised her to communicate more with Mason about things like what happened at school or how his studies were going. This would prevent a situation where Mason only felt comfortable sharing good grades at home, and was too scared to mention poor ones.

Many students share a common problem: they don’t dare to tell their parents about bad grades.

A huge part of this stems from poor parenting, from parents who think a beating can solve any problem.

But this approach often instills a deep-seated fear in adolescents, making them afraid to speak up or face their problems.

They end up just wanting to tear up the poorly-graded test paper.

Over time, children can develop a phobia of school.

Mason’s mother took her words to heart. After giving it some serious thought, she started trying to communicate more with Mason, even occasionally asking him what games he liked to play.

The once-reserved Mason became much more talkative. This evening, at seven o’clock, he looked over at his mother and suddenly said, "Mom, this problem is really hard. Could you call Teacher Winslow so I can ask her about it?"

Mason’s mother was taken aback for a second. It felt like it had been a long time since she’d heard her son admit a problem was difficult. She smiled and nodded eagerly. "Okay, I’ll call Teacher Winslow for you right now."

She paused, then added, "Son, don’t worry. If you can’t solve it, just take your time. It’s nothing to stress about."

Holly Winslow was writing in her winter break journal when she got the call. She didn’t hesitate. "Aunt Jarvis, I’ll be right over."

Aunt Jarvis accepted with some embarrassment. After Holly came over and explained the problem to Mason, she insisted on sending Holly off with several pounds of fruit as she was leaving.

Holly carried the fruit home. The lights were still on, and her father, Wyatt Winslow, was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.

Waiting up for her.

A warmth spread through Holly’s heart, and she couldn’t help but smile. She turned, went into the kitchen to wash an apple, then brought it back to the living room, peeled it, and gave half to Wyatt. "Dad, are we picking up Grandpa and Grandma tomorrow?"

This year, Walter Winslow and the others had decided to come to town to celebrate the New Year and stay for a while.

Wyatt took the apple and nodded. "Mhm. We’re going out to buy clothes tomorrow afternoon."

"Dad, I still have plenty of clothes. We just need to buy some for Grandpa and Grandma."

Holly really did have plenty of clothes. *Cough.* ’That rascal Mortimer Quincy spent half his salary on clothes for me.’

’Thinking of that, I should buy him an outfit tomorrow too,’ she decided.

"We’re buying you some," Wyatt said, taking a bite of the apple and chewing it a few times.

Holly didn’t refuse her father’s kind gesture again. She chuckled. "Okay, then I’ll take a half-day off tomorrow."

Wyatt grunted in acknowledgment. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Where do you want to work after you graduate?"

Holly paused for a second, but answered without much hesitation. "Right here in Jarton County."

’I’m the only one in the Winslows’ younger generation. Grandpa and Grandma are getting on in years, and Dad is too lonely by himself.’

’I won’t live so far away, like I did in my past life.’

’I haven’t discussed this with Mortimer yet. He definitely won’t work in Jarton County.’

’That means we’ll definitely have to live apart.’

Wyatt pressed his lips together and looked up at her. "You can’t stay in B-City?"

Jarton County was just a small town. Holly was a student at a prestigious university; anyone would think it was a shame for her to come back here.

And he understood her reasons.

A complex emotion flickered in his eyes at the thought.

Holly smiled brightly. "I like it in Jarton County. I can be a teacher when the time comes. It’s a stable job. How relaxing is that?"

She added, "Besides, the apartment in B-City has gone up in value recently. I can sell it after I graduate and make a hundred or two hundred thousand."

"We don’t need you to take care of us," Wyatt said, his voice a little deep.

Holly pretended to be upset and huffed. "Dad, are you trying to get rid of me?"

Hearing that, Wyatt subconsciously chided in a low, stern voice, "Nonsense."

"Hehe, then I’ll just stick with you forever, Dad. I’ll live off you for the rest of my life," Holly said, blinking as she half-joked.

"Mhm," Wyatt agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

...

During her nightly chat with Mortimer Quincy, Holly told him about her plan to work in Jarton County: *Hubby, what do you think about me being a teacher in Jarton County after I graduate?*

Mortimer was sitting at his desk. After reading the message, he raised an eyebrow and typed back: *Wifey, is that an announcement or a proposal?*

Holly was amused by Scholar Quincy’s perceptiveness. *What if it’s an announcement? And what if it’s a proposal?*

Mortimer replied: *This clearly isn’t a multiple-choice question.*

Holly cradled her phone and laughed out loud. *Hubby, you’re so smart.*

Mortimer replied shamelessly: *That’s not up for debate, just like my masculine "prowess."*

Holly understood instantly and muttered a soft "Ugh." ’Anyway, he’s far away, so I don’t have to fear his immediate "retaliation,"’ she thought. She typed out a reply: *no, your "prowess" is exceptionally bad.*

Mortimer crossed his legs and let out a low chuckle. ’With her husband so far away, his wifey was getting bold.’ He typed: *Wifey, believe it or not, even if I’m "bad," I can still make you cry.*

Holly: "..."

She quickly deleted the chat history, then put her phone down and went to sleep.

Pretending nothing had happened.

A minute or two passed. When Mortimer didn’t get a reply, he knew she’d chickened out.

’But how could he let her get away with chickening out?’

’His fragile little heart had been wounded. It wasn’t too much to ask for a little something to soothe the pain.’

He put his phone down and went back to watching his lecture, taking notes as he did.

...

Early the next morning, Wyatt Winslow went to the countryside to pick up Walter Winslow and his wife.

Walter and his wife had some free time on their hands, so they’d planted a vegetable patch.

Since they planned to stay in town for a long time, they decided to go to the patch and harvest the vegetables to take with them.

Wyatt tagged along, and Walter scoffed, "What are you following me for? Don’t get in my way. You don’t even know how to harvest anything. Go back inside and warm yourself by the fire with your mother."

"Dad, I know how," Wyatt said.

"You know how? What could you possibly know? When you were five, you picked someone’s fava bean flowers, thinking they were pea shoots," Walter retorted disdainfully.

Wyatt: "..."

He pushed up his glasses. "Dad, you were the one who told me to pick them."

A guilty-looking Walter: "..."

’Well, I was just teasing him back then, telling him they were pea shoots so he’d pick them for his mother to stir-fry.’

Back in the vegetable patch, Walter picked vegetables while keeping an eye on Wyatt. Wyatt truly had no experience with farm work. Walter watched as he pinched off the pea shoots right at the root.

Walter: "..."

He snapped irritably, "You’ve killed the whole plant! Now what are we supposed to eat in the future?"

Wyatt’s hand froze for a second before he moved his fingers a little higher up the stem.

That afternoon, the four of them went out to buy clothes for the New Year. Walter told Holly all about Wyatt’s misadventures that morning, and Holly laughed so hard her eyes curved into crescents.

It was only in front of Walter that Wyatt seemed like a clueless child.