She said seriously, "Professor Lynch, they don’t need ."
University students are still students, but they already have so rationality and plans for their future.
My impact on them wouldn’t be significant.
High school and middle school students lack that rationality. You could even say they’re lost and naive. The gap between people really starts to widen during those two stages.
After understanding what she ant, Professor Lynch was taken aback. She clearly hadn’t expected her to say that. She was silent for a few seconds. "The departnt is still considering you for a graduate school recomndation. I didn’t realize you already had plans. Why don’t you think it over?"
With a small smile, she added, "Is your boyfriend also skipping grad school to go ho and be a teacher?"
’That guy, Mortir Quincy, is going ho to inherit a real estate business. He’s going to be one of those cold, domineering CEOs from a novel.’
’Ahem, but not the kind of CEO who can casually whip out hundreds of millions.’
’A few hundred thousand, at most.’
Holly Winslow couldn’t possibly say that out loud. After a mont’s thought, she said, "No, he has other plans for when he goes back ho."
...
After the graduate school entrance exam registration on October 15th, the school’s study halls were completely taken over by seniors. Aside from Holly Winslow and Mortir Quincy, who weren’t applying, Zeke Zane, Pantheon, Cynthia Owens, and the others were all preparing for the exam.
Anna Willow was also applying.
Everyone who was studying for the exam was a little curious why this star-student couple wasn’t applying for grad school—ahem, or rather, getting a recomndation.
Everyone knew that a graduate degree was worth a lot more.
One day, Pantheon ran into Mortir Quincy at the school gate as he was waiting to pick up Holly Winslow from class. He couldn’t help but ask, "Mortir, are you really not applying for grad school?"
Without the slightest hesitation, Mortir Quincy grunted, "Yeah."
Pantheon pressed, "Why not?"
Mortir Quincy gave him a cool glance, then said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Going ho to have kids."
Pantheon: "..."
’Going ho to have what?’
’Have kids?’
He managed to sputter out in English, "Are you kidding?"
Mortir Quincy looked away, clearly unwilling to answer such an "idiotic" question.
’What’s there to joke about when it cos to having kids?’
Pantheon: "..."
Pantheon was never one to keep things to himself. That very day, the topic "Mortir Quincy is going ho to have kids" flooded their high school group chat.
Everyone was curious to know if it was true. One by one, they boldly tagged Mortir Quincy, trying to get him to pop up and confirm it with a "Yeah."
On the way ho, Holly Winslow noticed Mortir Quincy’s phone vibrating nonstop, to the point where it was a little abnormal.
It was rare for anyone in that guy’s social circle to ssage him so relentlessly. The only exception was her.
She glanced over a few tis. "Quincy the Puppy, is that your work group chat?"
Mortir Quincy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Seeing her gaze fixed on the phone between them, clearly wanting to look, he tilted his chin up, looking not the least bit guilty. "You look for ."
"Okay."
Holly Winslow picked up his phone with a grin, then skillfully typed in the password. Only then did she realize it was their high school class group chat.
She’d been busy with classes recently and had muted most of her group chats.
She saw the screen-flooding tags for Mortir Quincy: @Mortir Quincy, are you going ho to have kids?
The sa ssage was repeated for over 99 ssages.
Her: "..."
She looked up at Mortir Quincy. "Mortir, what did you do?"
Hearing her suddenly call him "Mortir," Mortir Quincy slowed down the car. "What’s wrong?"
"See for yourself when we get ho."
Holly Winslow put the phone down, then pointed ahead, gesturing for him to watch the road.
After getting ho, Holly Winslow grabbed her phone and ran into the bathroom. Mortir Quincy sat on the sofa looking at his phone, quickly scrolled through the ssages, and then tapped the screen a few tis.
No.
A dozen replies imdiately flooded the chat: I knew Forrest was talking nonsense.
Forrest, get out here and face the music!
I swear to God, that’s what Mortir Quincy said himself! Mortir, you’re lying!
After they had "argued" for a bit in the chat, that guy Mortir Quincy slowly typed out another line: I can’t give birth. It’s my wife who’s going ho to have kids.
Everyone: "..."
Holly Winslow’s shout ca from the bathroom, "Quincy the Puppy! Undo that right now!"
Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow and pretended he didn’t hear. He tossed his phone onto the sofa and went to the kitchen to make a fruit platter.
A few minutes later, Holly Winslow ca "storming" out of the bathroom. "Quincy the Puppy, I told you to... Mmph!"
Mortir Quincy had fed her a piece of apple. "We’re having pan-seared steak for dinner."
Holly Winslow was bribed by the food and reluctantly forgave his earlier behavior.
Before long, Anna Willow and Iris Kensington called her on a group voice chat to ask if she was pregnant.
Her: "..."
’There’s sothing wrong with the way these two think.’ She joked, "That’s right, I’m pregnant. Get ready to be godmothers."
She thought Anna Willow and Iris Kensington would know she was kidding as soon as they heard it, but it turned out she had overestimated them.
The two of them let out an excited "Whoa!" and then started discussing in the group chat whether it would be a boy or a girl.
Her: "..."
She hung up the phone and casually looked up at Mortir Quincy beside her. Flustered and angry, she threw down her phone and wrapped her hands around the man’s neck. "This is all your fault for spouting nonsense."
A certain Mr. Quincy shrugged innocently. "We’re going ho for work, might as well have a kid while we’re at it."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’Might as well my ass.’
She bit his cheek. "You have a kid ’while you’re at it.’ If you pop one out, I’ll take your last na."
Mortir Quincy wrapped his arms around her waist and let out a low chuckle. "I can’t pop one out, but I can help my wife."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She bared her teeth. "Like I need your help!"
Hearing this, Mortir Quincy said darkly, "If you don’t want my help, whose help do you want?"
"Hmph, anyone but you." Holly Winslow stuck out her tongue. "I’ll have Ethan York help ."
Mortir Quincy wasn’t about to get jealous over a "dead character" from a novel. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I’ll give you three seconds to reconsider."
Holly Winslow tried to get up, but he flipped her over and pinned her to the sofa, proceeding to give her a "lesson in love." She squird uncontrollably from the tickling. "Quincy the Puppy, I was wrong, I was wrong!"
Mortir Quincy kept tickling her. "Who is Quincy the Puppy?"
"Hubby, he’s my hubby." Holly Winslow was laughing so hard her stomach hurt.
Satisfied, Mortir Quincy let go. "Good, as long as you know I’m your hubby."
He paused for a mont. "Wifey, I’ve discovered you like being ’forced.’"
Holly Winslow: "..."
She coughed several tis, her face turning red. ’Forced my ass.’
Before she could speak, that guy Mortir Quincy added, "I can totally play the part of Ethan York for you."
Holly Winslow: "..."
Her lips moved, and she finally managed to say, "First, give five hundred million as a mistress fee."
Hearing the two words "mistress fee," Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow. He thought about it seriously. "No mistress fee, but there’s a wife fee."
Holly Winslow held out her hand to him. "Then give it to ."
The next second, that guy Mortir Quincy lowered his head and gently rested his chin in her palm. "Five hundred million."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’Shaless. How dare he say his face is worth five hundred million.’
She pinched his face. "Hubby, if you were any more thick-skinned, you’d be worth a billion."
...
Sohow, the false news of her pregnancy reached Wyatt Winslow’s ears. The next day at noon, he called her. "Stop going to class. Co ho and rest."
At first, Holly Winslow didn’t understand what he ant or why Wyatt Winslow was suddenly telling her to co ho. "Dad, what’s wrong?"
The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds. "Why didn’t you tell you were pregnant?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers