The day after he deleted the comments, Mortimer Quincy suddenly texted Holly Winslow to say he was going to the hospital to see Andre Quincy. Holly was explaining a problem to Chloe Hollis when her phone lit up, and she instinctively glanced over.

She then said a word to Chloe Hollis, quickly stepped outside, and returned his call. "What’s wrong with Dad? Is he sick?"

"Yeah, I’m going to check on him first. Head back to campus after you’re done with your tutoring session, and call me if anything comes up." Mortimer Quincy didn’t sound well on the other end of the line; his voice was lower than usual.

’It was only after they got married that I learned Andre Quincy’s health was poor. I never expected him to get sick this early.’

Having been with him for over a decade, Holly Winslow could immediately tell he was in a bad mood. She said softly, "Wait for me. I’ll ask Ms. Zane for time off right now."

She paused for a moment. "Honey, don’t worry. Dad will be okay."

After hanging up, she explained the situation to Sophia Zane, then packed her things and left.

She and Mortimer Quincy met at the school gate, hailed a cab, and headed to the airport.

By the time they arrived at the entrance of Jarton County Hospital, it was already three or four in the afternoon.

Holly Winslow clearly felt the young man beside her falter. She reached out and took his hand, saying comfortingly, "I’m sure Dad will be fine."

Though Mortimer Quincy appeared cold and aloof, he was actually very sensitive and deeply sentimental.

Though he rarely showed direct concern for his family, he would buy medicine when Brooke Jarvis was coughing. When Andre Quincy’s feet hurt from his dress shoes, he bought him a pair with soft soles. And when Carl Quincy injured his leg, Mortimer put his work on hold for over a month to care for him.

Actually, he was a bit like Wyatt Winslow: not one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

’Except with me, of course.’

As the two of them reached the hospital room door, they happened to overhear Andre Quincy’s voice. "Don’t tell Moira about the surgery. I don’t want him to worry."

A moment later, Brooke Jarvis’s voice followed, "I know."

’That’s just how parents are,’ she thought. ’When something goes wrong, their first instinct isn’t to tell their children, but to hide it so they won’t worry.’

Mortimer Quincy’s gaze fell, and Holly Winslow squeezed his hand tighter.

They entered the hospital room, a semi-private one. An elderly woman occupied the other bed.

She greeted them politely, "Aunt Quincy, Uncle Quincy."

Andre Quincy and Brooke Jarvis were both taken aback. Brooke Jarvis stood up, surprised. "What are you two doing here?"

"Grandpa said Dad was sick."

Mortimer Quincy looked at Andre Quincy, his usual tone laced with a hint of concern. "What’s wrong, Dad?"

"It’s nothing, just a minor problem."

Andre Quincy recovered from his surprise and kindly gestured for Holly Winslow to help herself. "Holly, have something from the cabinet. If there’s nothing you like, just make Mortimer go out and buy you something."

Holly Winslow waved her hand, gesturing for him not to worry about it. She studied him. ’His color is pretty good, so it probably isn’t anything serious.’ "Dad, are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere right now?"

Andre Quincy shook his head, signaling for her not to worry. "I’m fine."

Mortimer Quincy and Brooke Jarvis went outside the room. Holly Winslow peeled an apple for Andre Quincy, and he ate a slice.

Holly Winslow suddenly looked at him seriously and whispered, "Dad, are you really okay?"

The genuine concern in her eyes was like that of a family member he’d known for years. Andre Quincy found it to be a wonderful feeling, and his expression grew even more affectionate. He offered a faint smile. "I’m really fine. See? My voice doesn’t even sound like anything’s wrong."

"That’s good. You have to stay healthy, Dad." Holly Winslow breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Andre Quincy’s ailment was indeed minor. He underwent a two-hour surgery, and it was a complete success.

The doctor said he just needed some time to rest and that it was nothing serious.

Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy both took a three-day leave from school. Including the weekend, that gave them five days off.

Mercy Willow took care of him during the day, and the two of them handled the nights.

Brooke Jarvis couldn’t step away from company matters, so she only stopped by for a short while each day. The hectic schedule made her look considerably more fatigued.

During that time, Wyatt Winslow also stopped by for a visit, bringing some things with him.

On the third day after the surgery, Holly Winslow fetched a cup of hot water. She poured it back and forth between two cups, periodically checking the temperature to cool it down.

The elderly woman in the next bed assumed Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy were both Andre Quincy’s children. She smiled at Andre and said, "Your two children are so dutiful, staying by your side like this."

Andre Quincy nodded. "My two children are indeed dutiful."

The old woman glanced at Holly Winslow. "How old is your daughter? She must be in college, right?"

Andre Quincy smiled. Without the slightest hesitation, he replied with Holly Winslow’s age, "Yes, she’s 21."

Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow. ’If she’d asked about me, Dad would’ve hesitated.’

’That wasn’t just a guess, either. It had actually happened before.’

’A few years ago, they were visiting relatives when someone asked for my age. Dad hesitated, then got it wrong by a year.’

"Does she have a boyfriend? I have a grandson who’s about her age. He’s studying at Garrison University now, and he used to be in the top class at Jarton High. His name is Boris Owens—I wonder if you know him?" The old woman beamed at Holly Winslow, looking more and more pleased by the second.

Andre Quincy pressed his lips together. "..."

As her official boyfriend—no, her official *husband*—Mortimer Quincy’s face darkened. He forced out the words, "We know him. We’re in the same class."

’Boris Owens,’ he thought. ’Nice one.’

Holly Winslow froze for a second before she couldn’t help but laugh. ’What a small world,’ she thought. ’Who knew this was Boris Owens’s grandmother?’

She was tempted to say, ’Grandma, your grandson isn’t lacking for girlfriends.’

Andre Quincy stepped in to explain, "She’s my daughter-in-law, Holly Winslow. The one next to her is my son, Mortimer Quincy. They’re already engaged."

The old woman let out an "Oh," seeming a little disappointed. But she quickly broke into a smile again. "They make a lovely couple. You’re a lucky man."

Andre Quincy glanced at Holly Winslow. "Mm."

Meanwhile, back on campus, Boris Owens sneezed several times in a row while playing a video game. "Weird," he muttered. "How can I be catching a cold in this heat?"

As was his routine, he called his grandmother at eight o’clock that evening. "Grandma, are you feeling any better?"

"Much better, my sweet boy."

The old woman held her phone, a wide smile on her face, and added, "Have you eaten, sweetie?"

Hearing her call him "sweetie," Boris Owens sighed with a mix of helplessness and resignation. "I’ve eaten, Grandma. Did Mom and Dad come see you?"

"They did. Your mother is such a nag, so annoying. One minute it’s ’you can’t do this,’ the next it’s ’you can’t do that.’ I was right at the good part of my show, and she said my time was up and just turned it off." Though she was complaining, the old woman had a smile on her face, obviously enjoying the fuss.

Boris Owens knew exactly what his mom was like. He chuckled and said, "Just hang in there, Grandma. I’ll come rescue you during the National Day holiday, and we can watch all the dramas you want."

"Oh, good, good, good."

The old woman glanced over at Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow. "You know, I met a classmate of yours today. His name was... Qin something."

Mortimer Quincy was sitting right between the two beds. "..."

He supplied, "Mortimer Quincy."

Boris Owens, on the other end of the line, froze when he heard Mortimer Quincy’s voice. His grandmother quickly continued, "Right, Mortimer Quincy! See, he’s already found himself a lovely girlfriend. When are you going to bring one home for your grandma?"

"I’m not asking for much. Someone just like your classmate’s girlfriend would be about right."

On the other end of the line, Boris Owens was speechless. "..."

’Someone like Holly Winslow?’

’Not asking for much?’

’Grandma, that’s already a sky-high standard.’

’He was self-aware enough to know that was impossible. He couldn’t compete with Mortimer Quincy, after all. He wasn’t as smart, wasn’t as handsome, and his family background wasn’t even in the same league.’

"Grandma, you should get some sleep."

"Sweetie! I’m not finished talking! You’re not getting any younger. It’s time to find a girlfriend. If I see anyone suitable, I’ll introduce you," she said, her voice full of urgency.

Mortimer Quincy suddenly arched an eyebrow and interjected, "Grandma, he already has a girlfriend."