After listening to him ramble on for quite a while and watching him run out of topics to talk about, Antonio Easton finally asked hoarsely at the end, "Is sothing up?"
Michael Quinn, who had been chatting non-stop just monts ago, suddenly fell silent, swallowing all his words back down.
After a pause, Michael Quinn unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, lowered his eyelids, and then lifted them again, speaking in a relaxed tone, "You’re really sharp, nothing escapes your eyes."
*
At the Easton Family’s house, Michael Quinn felt as at ho as his own place, moving around easily. After chatting with Antonio Easton, he even knowingly stayed for a al.
Nora Scott allowed him to do so.
The older generation got along well, and the younger generation grew up together, so their relationships were as close as family, with no need for formalities.
Usually, bothering each other and causing little troubles was a common occurrence.
"I heard Ward’s granddaughter has been visiting often lately?"
Michael Quinn walked over with a plate of sliced apples from the kitchen, and as he passed by the sofa, he handed it to Nora Scott.
"Yeah."
Nora Scott used a toothpick to pick up a piece of apple.
Sitting down nearby, Michael Quinn placed the fruit plate on the coffee table and asked, "What’s her family’s situation now?"
"Bankrupt."
"Tsk."
Michael Quinn frowned, "How could soone like Helena Wills raise such a sensible and filial child?" he said, with a slight expression of regret, "It’s a pity about the sister."
"You don’t need to worry; she’s much less trouble than you are."
"..."
There was always an urge to shut Nora Scott up.
After eating a piece of apple, Michael Quinn changed the topic, "By the way, I’m in charge of all the couplets in the alley this year. Does your family want so?"
"Yes."
Nora Scott agreed without hesitation.
Bernardo Quinn was a calligrapher.
Naturally, the grandson he personally raised from a young age was also influenced and had excellent handwriting.
Despite appearing to be carefree and idle every day, Michael Quinn had a certain talent for calligraphy and painting. Since the age of eight, he had been able to imitate Bernardo Quinn’s handwriting and would replace his grandfather in writing the couplets in the alley during the New Year every year.
It had always been this way, and this year was no exception.
Perhaps inherently unconventional, Nora Scott tended to just "go with the flow" on matters like these.
"Alright."
Michael Quinn nodded.
They chatted for a while, and then Nora Scott shifted the conversation to the main topic, "What’s the script this ti?"
With a sowhat serious expression, Michael Quinn thought quietly for a mont and finally said, "Sa as before, ’transferring affections,’ you’re free to improvise."
"Oh."
Seeing her confident deanor, Michael Quinn had a bad feeling and quickly added, "Even though you’re free to improvise, don’t add too much to the plot. With your acting skills, one more expression and you’ll definitely get exposed."
"..."
Nora Scott rolled her eyes at him.
Everyone loved to pick on her for her poor acting skills, which was annoying.
But it was an undeniable fact.
Rose jumped onto her lap, and as Nora Scott let it roam freely, she asked, "What’s she like?"
"She has quite a temper, not easy to deal with."
"The kind who would flip the table?"
"Shouldn’t be..." Michael Quinn hesitated, estimating the answer, "probably not."
Nora Scott sneered.
Judging by his tone, she surely would.
"But I did see her get into an argunt once," Michael Quinn quickly curved his lips in a smile, which returned to normal in an instant, "She moved out on her own, and her half-sister still caused trouble. Oh boy, that ti really ticked her off; in the dead of winter, she poured a bucket of cold water, nearly turning the person into a popsicle."
After saying this with a downcast gaze, Michael Quinn looked up again, earnestly saying to Nora Scott, "Can you watch out for my safety when the ti cos?"
"..."
Nora Scott didn’t promise anything, just gave him another roll of her eyes.
However—
She seed to have heard about soone pouring a bucket of water on their half-sister sowhere?
It felt sowhat familiar, but when she tried to think about it, she couldn’t find the source.
So she gave up.
*
Michael Quinn lingered around until almost noon before leaving.
Taking advantage of the gap before lunch, Nora Scott went back to her bedroom, intending to take a photo of Rose and send it to Henry Chapman.
—A photo a day, as requested by Henry Chapman.
However, when she got her phone, she saw multiple ssages from Professor Tavares and a friend request from Ethan Scott.
Professor Tavares conveyed roughly three points.
One, the project is ti-sensitive; could they et up first if possible?
Two, the client is offering a high price, with room for negotiation, hoping for serious consideration.
Three, the client, Ethan Scott, wants to add her on WeChat.
The ssages all conveyed a sense of urgency.
After reviewing Professor Tavares’ ssages, Nora Scott exited the chat interface and accepted Ethan Scott’s friend request.
In less than a minute, a ssage from Ethan Scott popped up.
[Ethan Scott]: Hello, teacher.
[Ethan Scott]: Could you spare so ti to et?
[Z,]: No ti.
[Ethan Scott]: Just an hour or two will do. Or you can give an address, and I’ll co to you.
Every sentence contained a "you" and a "teacher," showing quite a respectful attitude.
Who knows what kind of expression he would have if they really t in person.
[Z,]: Send the design drawings; I can look them over before we schedule a ti.
[Ethan Scott]: Okay.
[Ethan Scott]: I’ll send them to you right away.
?
Wasn’t he skeptical before? Why is he agreeing so easily this ti?
Nora Scott naturally didn’t know that her miraculous fifteen minutes last night had already made Ethan Scott view her as a lifesaver, not daring to do anything but worship her now.
At this point, even if just for a single set of design drawings, Ethan Scott would go to any lengths.
True to his word, Ethan Scott delivered.
Right after lunch, Nora Scott received the bundled files from Ethan Scott, which included all the drawings, progress, and various other materials for their project.
The file was quite large, taking over half an hour for Nora Scott to review everything.
After gaining a general understanding of their entire design, Nora Scott tutted, her expression sowhat off, and a trace of boredom flashed through her eyes.
All for this, they actually camped out in the northwest for her for half a month?
Needing to seek out experts for help?
And stressed to the point of panic?
Creating such a fuss, she thought it was sothing complicated and difficult.
Yet, the initial draft of the drawings—
Is almost certainly the work of Evelyn Easton.
Recently, with nothing to do, Nora Scott often studied the drawings Evelyn Easton left at Ernesto Woods’. Nora Scott suspected at one point that Evelyn Easton was "picked up," since Evelyn Easton hadn’t inherited any of Antonio Easton’s talent, having only imagination without the ability to execute, making the designs too fanciful.
The ideas weren’t bad and could be realized one by one in Nora Scott’s hands. But clearly, Evelyn Easton didn’t have this capability.
And Ethan Scott’s drawings shared too many similarities with Evelyn Easton’s drawings; many of the detailed creative thoughts were identical, and the creative mindset could also confirm this point.
So—
Evelyn Easton still left drawings at the Scott family?
Such empty, unrealistic design drawings could even be used by the Scott family’s descendants?
It’s downright ridiculous.
Nora Scott didn’t know where to start ridiculing.
"Ding-dong—"
"Ding-dong—"
"Ding-dong—"
The phone vibrated continuously with new ssages coming in from Ethan Scott.
[Ethan Scott]: Teacher, from your perspective, how long would it take for our team to design the drawings?
[Ethan Scott]: We are a bit pressed for ti here.
[Ethan Scott]: As long as you’re willing to join this project, anything regarding the price can be negotiated.
Heh.
Since it’s a birthday gift for Aaron Scott, let her show so "filial piety" as well.
After all, they’ve sought her out...
With upturned lips, Nora Scott opened the input field and, after a couple of simple taps, sent a ssage.
[Z,]: One week.
User Comments
0 comments from readers