His boss saw him co in and called out, "Mortir, co over here. Propose a toast to the executives."
He didn’t an anything by it; he’d just had too much to drink and wanted soone to take a few for him.
Mortir Quincy pressed his lips together, walked over, and raised his glass to the executives.
The female executive across from him, a woman of about forty, was very interested in him. For the past few days, her gaze had kept drifting his way. "Mortir, sit here. Walk through the revisions to the contract."
Mortir Quincy’s expression soured. He suddenly pulled out his phone, his voice just loud enough for everyone present to hear, "Hey, honey. I’m at a business dinner. I’ll call you back later."
The female executive froze at his words, a little surprised. "Married so young?"
Mortir’s boss seed to have caught on. He smiled and nodded. "He is. They even have kids. Co, President Shaw, let tell you about the contract."
When President Shaw heard he already had children, her interest waned. "Never mind. Let’s not talk business today."
It was past ten o’clock. Seeing that they’d had about enough to drink, Mortir’s boss tentatively asked, "President Shaw, do you think we could sign the contract now?"
"Oh, don’t be in such a rush. Let’s talk about it tomorrow." She started being evasive again, clearly unwilling to sign.
Mortir’s boss looked displeased, but he kept his composure. "Then we’ll discuss it tomorrow."
...
Mortir Quincy was the most sober of his colleagues. He escorted his boss back to his room. The boss tugged at his collar and looked at him. "Mortir, don’t take what happened today to heart. This is your first ti negotiating a business deal, so there’s a lot you haven’t seen."
"Once you’ve been to enough of these dinners, you’ll get used to this sort of thing."
"It’s normal to be young and hot-headed, but a lot of the ti, you just have to swallow your pride. If I had rejected her like you did today, this deal would most likely have fallen through."
Mortir didn’t agree. He enunciated each word clearly, "I’m married. So things are a matter of principle."
Life is about compromise, but not compromising on your principles. He never crossed that line.
It wasn’t that he and Holly Winslow had never fought. They argued frequently in the first few years of their marriage. It was the first marriage for both of them, and they didn’t know how to handle a lot of things.
But he was willing to explain, and Holly was willing to listen. They would point out problems and talk about them directly.
That’s how their relationship had beco what it was today.
He was married to Holly Winslow, so he had to be responsible for her, both in his actions and in his heart.
That was the most basic form of respect.
Besides, he loved his wife.
His boss was in his thirties or forties and had grown jaded and bored with marriage. He was taken aback by Mortir’s words. Looking at the younger man’s face, he suddenly let out a laugh. "Go on, get so sleep. Tomorrow’s another tough battle. Let’s try to get it signed early. Once it’s signed, I’ll approve so ti off for you to go see your wife."
Mortir nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Not long after he returned to his room, a server brought him so congee. "Hello, sir. A lady called earlier and ordered so congee for you, and also so yogurt."
She then handed him an envelope and added, "The lady also asked us to withdraw two thousand yuan in cash for you. Please count it, sir."
"Thank you for the trouble." Mortir took the envelope, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.
’His wife always said one thing and ant another. She talks about docking his allowance, but then she worries he won’t have enough.’
He raised his wrist to check his watch. It was almost eleven. ’His wife should be asleep by now.’
A few minutes later, Holly’s husband, who hadn’t posted in a while, suddenly made a post.
Congee and dicine, ordered by the wife.
The words were so blunt that the PDA was practically overflowing from the screen.
Boris Owens, the single guy: ...
Mortir Quincy, can you not show off your perfect marriage every single ti you post?
Have so consideration for this single guy. I thank you for sparing my life.
Pantheon: Good thing I have a girlfriend, so I’m not too overwheld. But even I need a minute.
Boris Owens replied to Pantheon: Bro, don’t be showing off these days unless you’re married.
It’s a married man’s world now.
Pantheon replied to Boris Owens: At least I’m better off than you.
Boris Owens: You’re just getting my sloppy seconds.
Mortir Quincy saw this and raised an eyebrow. His long fingers tapped the screen a few tis: You guys are just getting my sloppy seconds.
Pantheon: "..."
Boris Owens: "..."
Zeke Zane: "..."
Paul Powell: "..."
That was the goddamn truth.
There wasn’t a single goddamn thing they could say to refute it.
Total annihilation. Satisfied, Mortir Quincy put down his phone and started to leisurely eat his congee.
Not two minutes later, his phone went DING. He glanced at it, and his hand trembled.
His father-in-law had transferred money to him.
Five thousand yuan.
’His father-in-law was giving him spending money?’
Before he could reply, Wyatt Winslow sent two words over: "Buy bag."
He: "..."
...
On the afternoon of the 17th, Mortir Quincy’s plane landed. He arrived ho a little after 4:10 PM. After changing his clothes, he went to pick up his wife from her class.
He found the classroom number his wife had told him and looked through the window. He saw Holly Winslow in a long denim dress. Her long, curly hair was clipped back, probably to make it easier to write, with a few strands falling alongside her face.
She looked no older than a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl.
A few high school boys were stealing glances at her from ti to ti.
Her bona fide husband raised an eyebrow. He walked over to the other side of the balcony to wait.
At five o’clock, the class ended. There was a ten-minute break before the next session.
Holly Winslow was holding a fountain pen, ticulously practicing her penmanship as the teacher had instructed. Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. Her first thought was of Mortir Quincy. She turned her head, and sure enough, it was him.
She bead. "Honey."
"Oh, so you still rember you have a husband? I thought my wife was completely captivated by these characters."
Mortir handed her the milk tea he was holding. "Here’s that allowance you’ve been obsessing over."
Holly huffed. "Your allowance is long gone. In fact, you’re in debt to ."
She scooted over, making room for him on the stool.
After Mortir sat down, he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Honey, a few little bean sprouts are staring at you."
’Little bean sprouts?’
Holly couldn’t help but cough a few tis. Annoyed, she jabbed him with her elbow. "Quincy the Puppy, talk nicely. They’re the flowers of our nation."
Mortir raised an eyebrow. "The flowers of our nation? Then what does that make ?"
Holly tilted her head and pretended to think it over seriously. "You’re the nation’s big yellow flower."
"Big yellow flower?" Mortir repeated quietly, looking with amusent at the "big yellow flower’s" wife. He corrected her, "Big cucumber."
Holly instantly got it. "..."
She coughed several more tis, then, flustered and angry, she playfully kicked at him. "Get out of here! My class is about to start."
Mortir checked his watch. There was one minute until class. He slowly stood up and, as he passed by those boys, asked, "My wife is beautiful, isn’t she?"
The boys stared at him. "..."
’He looks a little familiar.’
Watching him leave, the boy in the white t-shirt said, "He looks like the guy from the picture on the final exam essay."
The boy in the gray t-shirt added, "That is him! Mortir Quincy! The year’s top scorer in the city, full marks. Damn."
"My essay was only worth thirty points because of him. The topic for the final was so hard. ’The spirit of a top scholar’ or whatever. How am I supposed to know about the spirit of a top scholar when I’ve never been one?"
The boy in the brown shirt said, "Is that the point? The point is, that girl is his wife!"
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