Just then, other colleagues started arriving.
Seeing Phoebe Lockwood actually cleaning, a few of the colleagues were stunned.
"Phoebe, you’re so diligent! Here so early in the morning to clean."
"Oh, I’m a bit of a neat freak. When I see dust on a desk, I just can’t help myself—I have to wipe it clean. You guys can just ignore . I’ll be back at my desk once I’m finished."
The words had barely left her mouth when a long-unheard voice cut in. "Haha... Lockwood, I like this little quirk of yours. As it happens, my desk is dirty. Why don’t you co over and give it a wipe for !"
The speaker was none other than Teacher Hartwell, recalled after his term of banishnt to the frontier was complete!
Claire Sinclair turned around in pleasant surprise. "Teacher Hartwell..."
Her voice trailed off.
HOLY CRAP!!!
’Is this handso man really the Teacher Hartwell she knew???’
His beer belly was gone, his hair was perd, his stubble had vanished, and the sour sll of an overweight man was replaced by the faint scent of cologne. He looked roguishly handso!
Completely transford, positively radiant—no words were more fitting to describe the Teacher Hartwell standing before them.
The mont everyone saw Henry Hartwell, they all wore expressions of sheer astonishnt.
’This is the slob Henry Hartwell???’
In just one short month, he had slimd down into a handso man. It just goes to show you: never underestimate the potential of an overweight person!
For a few seconds, Phoebe Lockwood was also taken aback by the newly handso Henry Hartwell. But when she rembered what he’d told her to do, the minuscule flicker of attraction she’d felt for him was instantly extinguished.
’That damned fatty, daring to tell to wipe his desk! Who the hell does he think he is!’
’No, I have to hold it in... ’
’The Astoria Daily is about to go through a restructuring. If I don’t change how my colleagues see , I’ll definitely be fired. That would be too humiliating. I have to stay.’
With this in mind, Phoebe Lockwood put on a fake smile. "Of course. I’ll co over and wipe your desk as soon as I’m done here."
Henry Hartwell didn’t reply to her, instead patting Claire Sinclair on the shoulder. "Claire Sinclair, co here a second. I have an assignnt for you."
"Uh, okay!" Claire Sinclair followed him.
Henry Hartwell’s desk was covered in dust, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He swung the backpack off his shoulder and tossed it onto the desk with a THUD, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Claire Sinclair covered her nose. ’This guy might have gotten thin and handso, but he’s still as crude as a 330-pound slob.’
Henry Hartwell unzipped his backpack and pulled out a thick stack of handwritten pages. "I need you to type these into the computer for . I got them from a highly respected elder. They’re mixed with traditional characters, but I think you should be able to make them out."
Claire Sinclair glanced at the handwriting and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. ’This is way too sloppy!’
’Even a computer scanner probably wouldn’t be able to recognize this writing.’
"Teacher Hartwell, what is this about?"
"It’s the story of Old Mr. Roland and his wife. I found it very moving, so I want to get it published in our feature column. And you’re the one who’s going to write it."
"Huh?" Claire Sinclair was stunned. "Teacher Hartwell, you’re not joking, are you?"
"Why would I be joking?" Henry Hartwell retorted.
Claire Sinclair lacked confidence. "I’ve never written this type of article before. I’m afraid I won’t do a good job..."
"Don’t worry about it. Once you have a draft, I’ll help you edit it. By the way, did you finish that article I assigned you before?"
"You an the one on the environntal feature? Yes, I finished it."
"Send it over. I’ll take a look."
"Okay."
Clutching the thick stack of handwritten pages, Claire Sinclair returned to her desk. She first emailed the article from her computer to Teacher Hartwell, then turned her attention to the manuscript.
Just then, Phoebe Lockwood walked past her, rag in hand.
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