Chapter 243: Chapter 253: I Dare Not Say, or I’ll Have to Recite the Keyboard

Boris Owens: "..."

He hung up before his grandma could even react and sent Mortimer Quincy a message: Scholar Quincy, what did I ever do to you?

Mortimer Quincy replied a minute or two later: It was merciful of me not to say more.

Boris Owens: "..."

’Mortimer Quincy, you’re such a dog!’

Sorry, your message has been rejected by the recipient.

"..."

Fuck.

Such a fucking bastard.

He then went to the dorm group chat to vent about Mortimer Quincy’s "crimes." Pantheon and the others spammed "Hahaha..." like a bunch of bots.

Zeke Zane: Scumbag Owens, you must’ve done something to piss off Scholar Quincy. You’re screwed!

Pantheon, speaking as someone with experience: Watch out, he’ll make you erase the blackboard for two weeks.

Scumbag Owens sulked.

...

「On the day Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow returned to school, Andre Quincy was discharged from the hospital.」

Holly Winslow caught up on the three days of classes she missed by studying on her own. Whenever she didn’t understand something, she asked Mortimer Quincy.

Mr. Quincy held "tutoring sessions" during the day and also at night. His complexion improved with each passing day.

He had gotten the hang of his job, and his overtime hours were one or two hours shorter than before. His salary had increased from 2,500 to 3,500, and this month he also received a 500 bonus, totaling 4,000.

Not every intern received such treatment. Of his cohort, only Mortimer Quincy had gotten a raise.

On the day the pay stubs were issued, many interns envied his salary. As a result, those who were green with envy began spreading malicious rumors behind his back, claiming he had used his personal "advantages" to bribe a superior.

The general manager, on his way to get some tea, happened to overhear this in the breakroom. He rebuked them in a stern voice, "Nonsense. This company has always been fair. You don’t think Mortimer Quincy deserves to be paid that much? You should see how late he stays every time he works overtime."

"What are all of you doing while he’s working overtime? Playing games and eating snacks, every one of you! I have eyes, I can see what’s going on. If I hear any more of this slander, you can pack your things and leave immediately."

The group in the breakroom scurried away in disgrace.

After getting his water, the general manager had someone call Mortimer Quincy in. When he arrived, the manager asked politely, "Are you getting accustomed to the work?"

Mortimer Quincy nodded. "It’s fine."

The general manager nodded, then said in a meaningful tone, "There are some rumors going around the office. Don’t pay them any mind. We’ve all seen your hard work and dedication."

Whether a person is loud about their efforts or quietly diligent, over time, others will notice. Hard work is never in vain.

It’s true that connections can play a role in this company, but only if you yourself are competent enough to secure your position. If you’re not, then I’m sorry, but even with connections, you’ll be fired.

There is one exception: unless you’re the big boss’s son.

Mortimer Quincy was, of course, aware of the rumors. His expression remained nonchalant. "I know."

"As long as you know. I’ll speak with your team leader later and have him add a 300 outstanding employee bonus for you. Keep up the good work; the company won’t shortchange its best employees."

Mortimer Quincy nodded.

When he received his paycheck, he got off work early for the first time, went to the mall, and bought a handbag for 8,300.

He then went to buy some skincare and makeup. The saleslady was about to ask about skin type, but she saw him confidently picking out the products himself.

He bought everything he needed in under five minutes.

After leaving the mall, before Mortimer Quincy could call Holly Winslow, his phone rang. It was her. "Quincy the Puppy, are you off work yet? I’m downstairs from your company building."

"I am. Give me a minute."

Mortimer Quincy hailed a cab from the roadside, bags in hand. The moment he stepped out of the taxi, he saw her. She was wearing a red and yellow floral dress that fell past her knees, her long, wavy hair cascading down her back.

She was tall for a woman, with a figure that was just right—not too thin, not too heavy. She exuded a mature charm, yet retained a hint of girlish innocence.

Men passing by on their way home from work couldn’t help but steal a few glances in her direction.

A pang of jealousy prompted him to stake his claim. He called out from a distance, "Honey!"

Hearing his voice, Holly Winslow looked over and ran toward him with a smile. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the bags in his hands. "Did you buy me a purse?" she asked, delighted.

Mortimer Quincy shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Nope."

He pinched her nose. "I bought my honey a purse."

Holly Winslow couldn’t hold back a laugh, her eyes crinkling with joy. She gave his shoulder a light punch. "Thank you, Hubby! Long live Hubby!"

She pulled a box out of her own bag and gave it to him. "I bought something for my hubby, too."

It was a watch that cost nearly 10,000.

Her scholarship money and tutoring income—all of it was gone.

’A relationship has to be mutual; one person can’t be the only one giving.’

She unboxed it, fastened it on his wrist, and admired it for a moment. "So handsome. My hubby looks even better than the models."

Mortimer Quincy laughed. "Is your secret stash all gone now?"

"All gone."

Holly Winslow blinked, then added, "If your conscience is troubling you, Hubby, you can just give me a bigger bride price in the future. The bigger, the better."

"Okay."

Mortimer Quincy noticed people were still staring. He leaned down, gave her a quick kiss, and then took her hand. "Come on, let’s go home."

...

Back in their dorm room, when Serena Shaw saw Holly Winslow’s new designer bag, she said with an expression of pure envy, "Holly, your boyfriend’s a real big spender! Buying you a bag that expensive."

Holly Winslow smiled and explained, "He bought it with his scholarship money and his salary."

’Mortimer Quincy isn’t some rich heir; he earned that money himself.’

"Sigh, the good ones are always taken," Serena Shaw said, half-joking. "Holly, I’m begging you, please introduce me to a boyfriend like him."

Holly Winslow laughed. "I must have used up lifetimes of good luck to meet my boyfriend. I doubt I’ll ever find another one like him, but Serena, you still have a chance."

Simone Quincy chimed in, "Nathan Chaney."

Serena Shaw shot her a dark look. "Cecilia, can you please not mention him? Say his name one more time and I swear I’m going to grab a slipper, march right into his dorm, and beat the crap out of him."

"What is it this time?" Autumn Underwood asked curiously.

Serena Shaw ground out through clenched teeth, "That bastard, Nathan Chaney! He beat me by one point on the pop quiz again."

Holly Winslow and the other two burst out laughing. Holly was genuinely curious. "How does Nathan Chaney manage to score exactly one point higher than you every single time?"

At the mention of it, Serena Shaw grew sullen. "That’s what I want to know."

"This won’t do. I’m going to confront him this afternoon. I’m so mad! You guys have to come with me. If I can’t take him in a fight, you better have my back."

There was a large lecture that afternoon. Since Mortimer Quincy didn’t have class, he went along with Holly Winslow.

Seeing that there were empty seats in Nathan Chaney’s row, Serena Shaw marched over with her head held high and addressed him directly, "Excuse me, can you let us in?"

Nathan Chaney, who was wearing glasses, looked at her for a few seconds before quickly getting up. Simone Quincy and the others filed in first.

Serena Shaw sat down next to Nathan Chaney. Staring at his refined side profile, she suddenly lost all her nerve.

’This damn pretty boy. He looks so prim and proper, but the things he does are just shameless.’

Seeing her face turn red, Simone Quincy and the others: "..."

It was too painful to watch.

Holly Winslow turned to Mortimer Quincy and asked earnestly, "Scholar Hubby, could you manage to score exactly one point higher than me every time?"

Hearing the title "Scholar Hubby," Mortimer Quincy raised his eyebrows in satisfaction. "I could be precise down to half a point."

Holly Winslow’s eyes widened in curiosity. "Why?"

"I’d better not. If I tell you, you’ll make me memorize the keyboard layout," Mortimer Quincy said, shaking his head with a smile.

The more he hedged, the more curious Holly became. "Go on, tell me," she promised. "I won’t get mad, and I won’t make you memorize the keyboard layout."

Mortimer Quincy decided to satisfy her curiosity and stated succinctly, "Intelligence."

The comment struck a nerve. "..."

’Meeting his girlfriend’s dark glare, he realized he’d made a huge miscalculation. Why did he ever believe her?’

Mortimer Quincy rubbed his nose and proactively recited the keyboard layout forwards and backwards: "qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm."

"mnbvcxzlkjhgfdsapoiuytrewq."