The others imdiately let out a collective "Ooooh," their tone tinged with envy.
Paul Powell clicked his tongue twice. "Holly," he said, looking at Holly Winslow, "don’t let Mortir off so easy. At least make him sing a power ballad before you agree to him."
Holly Winslow leaned over and patted Mortir Quincy’s knee, looking every bit the protective wife. "I’ll sing for you at ho."
Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Alright."
"Mortir, I’ve always said you must’ve saved a nation in a past life to end up with Holly. When will I ever find a girlfriend as understanding, pretty, and sweet as she is?" Boris Owens lanted, his words dripping with the bitterness of a single man.
Very thick.
Mortir Quincy glanced at him, not the least bit angry, and asked coolly, "You think you could handle it?"
Boris Owens was stumped. "..."
’Could he handle it?’
’No.’
Pantheon burst out laughing. "HAHA! Scumbag Owens, a guy like you is never going to find a wife."
"Just hearing you’ve had seven or eight exes is enough to scare anyone off."
Holly Winslow couldn’t help but laugh out loud, quickly grabbing Mortir Quincy’s sleeve to cover her mouth.
Mortir Quincy stroked her head. "No need to cover your mouth. It really is funny."
Boris Owens: "..."
He didn’t dare say anything to Mortir Quincy, so he just scoffed at Pantheon, jutting out his chin. "What do you know? This is what you call charm. If I wanted to get married, I could do it in a heartbeat."
"Unlike you. Who knows how many years you’ll have to wait."
"Yeah, right." Pantheon wrapped an arm around a quiet Cynthia Owens and said with a laugh, "We’re getting married the year after next. You’re younger than , so we’ll see who gets hitched first."
Hearing this, Mortir Quincy glanced at Pantheon and Cynthia Owens, then suddenly whispered to Holly Winslow, "We’ll be first."
Holly Winslow was baffled. "What do you an, we’ll be first?"
Before Mortir Quincy could answer, Boris Owens bood, "You’ll have to see if her cousin agrees first! Besides, with Mortir here as her younger cousin, you think you can just get married whenever you feel like it?"
Zeke Zane chid in, "He’s not wrong."
Paul Powell said half-jokingly, "We’ll all get married before you. Actually, Mortir will probably have kids before you even get married."
"Co on, let’s make a bet. I bet Mortir has a kid before Boris even gets married."
Pantheon pulled out a hundred-yuan bill. "My money’s on Mortir."
Zeke Zane took out a fifty. "I’m betting on Mortir, too."
Boris Owens: "..."
’If it were just Mortir getting married before him, he could accept that. But for Mortir to have kids while he was still single...’
’That was going too far.’
’That was seriously going too far.’
"I’m betting on myself! Five hundred!"
’Holly knew the inside story. In her past life, she and Mortir never had children, but Boris never got married either. Ahem. If you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.’
’Boris had been scamd out of his money by a woman, but the crucial part was that he had actually fallen for her—truly fallen for her. That’s why he stopped ssing around afterward.’
She pulled out a hundred-yuan bill. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, she gave an awkward cough. "I’ll bet a hundred."
"On Mortir."
Everyone: "..."
One of the people involved had spoken. This was the real deal.
Mortir Quincy chuckled. "My girlfriend has spoken. So be it."
Everyone: "..."
"I’ll put down five hundred."
"Five hundred from , too."
"Two hundred."
"One thousand."
Everyone imdiately turned to stare at Mortir Quincy, who had just spoken. "..."
Mortir Quincy gave a slight shrug. "Any objections?"
Boris Owens, fuming with embarrassnt, stord off. "I’m out! I’m not betting!"
The others behind him suddenly burst into loud laughter.
Mortir Quincy held Holly Winslow’s hand, walking behind the rest of the group. He looked at her with a smile. "Honey, I bet a thousand. We can’t afford to lose."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She bared her teeth. "You can have the baby yourself, then."
Mortir Quincy said shalessly, "Then you’ll have to help , honey. I can’t have one all by myself."
Holly Winslow: "..."
Seeing her silent, Mortir Quincy leaned down to tease her. "Isn’t that right?"
"Right, my foot!" Holly Winslow gave him a light kick before hurrying ahead.
...
The sophomore course load was significantly heavier than freshman year. Not only was the schedule packed from Monday to Friday, but now there were classes on Saturdays as well.
This led to a sharp increase in students skipping class. Holly Winslow went from answering roll call for two people at the beginning of the sester to answering for four.
The professors had adopted a resigned attitude: ’I’ll do my lecturing, you do your skipping. It’s not my grade on the line, anyway.’
They turned a blind eye.
This particular day, Holly Winslow attended morning class on behalf of four people. When she returned to the dorm at ten o’clock, her three roommates were still asleep.
She quietly pulled out her chair, took out her advanced English exam materials, and began to study. Half an hour later, Simone Quincy and the other two began to wake up one by one.
Simone Quincy pushed aside her bed curtain, yawned, and looked at Holly, who was busy studying. "Holly, aren’t you tired?"
Holly Winslow went to bed at midnight and woke up at seven every morning, regardless of whether she had classes.
Ahem, except for the nights she spent with her boyfriend, of course.
For college students, waking up early was a particularly cruel form of torture.
Exceedingly cruel.
Holly Winslow handed her so breakfast, then gestured toward Serena Shaw and Autumn Underwood, indicating she had brought so for them as well. "I’m fine."
’Before she beca a teacher, she used to be the sa, not getting out of bed until nine or ten. But once she started teaching, waking up at six or seven beca mandatory.’
’Ahem, and if she had to get up, Mortir had to get up, too.’
’One ti, they both overslept and didn’t wake up until eight or nine in the morning.’
’Mortir had no choice but to call her in sick. Since their schedules were suddenly free, they decided to go shopping.’
’But their luck was just that bad—they were spotted by the principal’s wife, who also happened to be a dean at the school.’
’Later, she was called in for a talk. She and Mortir were practically newlyweds at the ti, and the dean had told her, "I understand you’re newly married, but as a teacher, you have to be prepared to make certain sacrifices."’
’Sohow, word got out, and the other teachers at school all teased her about it privately.’
’Because of that, she’d been "annoyed" with a certain Mr. Quincy for several days.’
Simone Quincy passed the breakfast to Serena Shaw and Autumn Underwood. "I can’t do it," she said. "It’s torture. What did Professor Lynch talk about today? Did he just rant about politics for half the lecture?"
"Pretty much," Holly Winslow gave her a ’you-guessed-it’ look, then quickly added, "It was actually pretty interesting. At least I don’t have to watch the news now."
Serena Shaw, her hair a fluffy ss, joined in. "Professor Lynch’s lectures just make want to sleep."
Autumn Underwood nodded in agreent. "Yup."
"Isn’t the scholarship money tempting enough? I got it again this sester," Holly Winslow said smugly.
Serena Shaw shook her head vigorously. The scholarship money was tempting, but the effort required was more than a normal person could handle. "I’m destined to be a slacker with no scholarship."
She continued, "What’s the IQ on that genius boyfriend of yours? How does he rank first on every exam, with his scores getting higher each ti? He just keeps breaking the all-ti records in the finance departnt."
"So of the finance students secretly print out his photo to pray to for good grades. I overheard two guys the other day saying, ’If you’re going to be a man, be like Mortir Quincy: handso, a genius, and with a gorgeous girlfriend.’"
"Plus, I heard the university gave your boyfriend an additional scholarship, though I don’t know if that’s true."
Even Holly Winslow, his official girlfriend, was in awe of Mortir Quincy’s IQ. "I don’t know, but it’s definitely fifty percent higher than mine. Maybe even more."
Serena Shaw and the others laughed.
Autumn Underwood took a sip of her soy milk. "Don’t worry, Holly. Your IQ will go up. It’ll rub off on you over ti."
Serena Shaw chid in with a wicked grin. "And how, exactly, does it ’rub off’?"
"You’ll have to ask Holly about that. After all, I don’t have a boyfriend," Autumn Underwood said, spreading her hands.
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