When Holly Winslow heard this, she froze for a mont before it made her sputter, and she couldn’t help but cough a few tis.
She wasn’t the only one in the office; several other teachers were there. In a low voice, she said, "Dad, I’m not pregnant. I was just joking with Anna and the others."
The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds before Wyatt Winslow’s voice ca through. "You don’t have to lie to . You two are already married. It’s normal to have children."
Holly Winslow was speechless.
’It really feels like Dad’s eager to have a grandchild.’
"Dad, I’m really not pregnant. If I were, I’d tell you. You’d be the first to know."
Wyatt Winslow pressed his lips together. "I’ll send you so money. Go buy yourself sothing nice to eat."
Holly Winslow smiled. "Dad, you don’t have to. Mortir Quincy and I are both working now; we have money."
"Take it." Wyatt Winslow’s tone was a little serious.
"Okay, I’ll take it. Thank you, Dad." Holly Winslow didn’t refuse his kind offer again.
The two exchanged a few more words before hanging up.
Sandra Marshall, who was sitting across from her, asked, "Teacher Winslow, are you trying for a baby?"
Holly Winslow was speechless.
"It’s still too early. Maybe in a few years."
’Don’t be fooled by all the noise that Mortir Quincy has been making lately. If I actually got pregnant, he would absolutely chicken out.’
’Well, it’s not that he’d chicken out, exactly. It’s just that he knows neither of us has graduated yet, and our jobs aren’t stable.’
’Scholar Quincy is a real man.’
She ntally gave a certain soone a little praise.
lody Shaw chid in with a smile, "It’s not too early! With genes as good as yours, it would be a waste not to have a few kids."
Holly Winslow wasn’t shy about it at all. "If we can, we’ll have as many as possible."
At that, lody Shaw and the others all let out a teasing "Ooooh."
Afterward, Holly Winslow decided to bla Scholar Quincy for her father’s pregnancy interrogation and sent him a text ssage: "You’re blocked. Milk tea from downstairs."
Ahem, she was really just craving milk tea.
Mortir Quincy was typing on his keyboard when his phone chid. He imdiately stopped. The only notifications that made a sound were from Holly Winslow.
After reading it, he tapped his finger lightly on his phone. ’My wife is still texting , which ans it’s not serious.’
’Yep, she’s craving milk tea.’
He suppressed a smile, raising his hand to check his watch. It was 12:45. He still had over half an hour before he had to be back at work.
He put on his jacket, grabbed his phone, and was about to head downstairs when a female colleague saw him and hurried over to stop him. "Mortir Quincy, are you going downstairs?"
"Could you grab a milk tea for ? I’ve already paid for it. It’s just downstairs. Thanks!"
Mortir Quincy’s expression remained unchanged. Without a second thought, he refused. "It’s not convenient." And with that, he left.
The last ti a male colleague had asked him to bring sothing back, he’d done it. The female colleague was left speechless.
A male colleague, who loved to stir the pot, teased her, "I’m telling you, Jiaojiao, when have you ever seen Mortir Quincy fetch sothing for a woman? The man’s married."
"You should probably give up on those little ideas of yours."
The female colleague scoffed. "Pah! You’re disgusting."
The male colleague roared with laughter. "HA HA! Call ’Bro,’ and I’ll go get it for you."
"Bro Mitchell," the female colleague imdiately called out with a beaming smile.
When Mitchell Hughes arrived at the milk tea shop, he was surprised to see Mortir Quincy there too. Assuming Mortir had co to pick up the drink for their colleague after all, he sidled up to him and said with a laugh, "I thought you were really heartless enough not to get it. Turns out you’re just a softie with a tough exterior."
The reason he thought this was because even though Mortir Quincy was a man of few words at the company and kept to himself, he would always lend a hand when it was truly needed.
Except, of course, when it ca to female colleagues with ulterior motives.
For any other matter, Mortir probably wouldn’t have bothered to respond. But this was different. His wife was a little green-eyed monster.
He looked at him coolly and explained, "I’m buying milk tea for my wife."
The colleague on the receiving end of this explanation was force-fed a mouthful of PDA and was left speechless.
’Does this guy ever talk about anything other than his wife?’
Just then, the waitress handed the packaged milk tea to Mortir Quincy. She instinctively gave him a second look. "Please co again."
Mortir Quincy didn’t seem to notice. He said, "Thank you," and left with his order.
The waitress enviously said to her coworkers, "That guy is seriously handso up close. His skin is amazing. Too bad such a great catch is already taken."
"Making the crazy decision to get married so young."
She was just sighing wistfully.
Mortir’s colleague glanced at her. ’Mortir probably didn’t think it was a crazy decision at all. In fact, he’s probably loving every minute of it.’
’They know nothing of the joys of a married man.’
The thought hit him right where it hurt.
...
Holly Winslow had just finished preparing for her afternoon class. She was resting her head on her desk, planning to take a short nap, when Sandra Marshall, sitting opposite her, tapped her. She looked up and, before she could say a word, saw Mortir Quincy at the doorway holding a milk tea.
His dark gray suit made him look rather stern, but the upward curve of his lips added a touch of sensuality.
She imdiately broke into a suppressed smile. Under the envious gazes of her colleagues, she hurried out to et him. They stood in the hallway just past the office, in the teachers’ area where few people were around.
"Quincy the Puppy, that was fast. Not bad, you deserve so praise."
Mortir Quincy stared at her little face and said in a low, deliberate voice, "Honey, ’that was fast’ are three words a man never wants to hear."
He paused for a mont before adding, "I was plenty slow."
Holly Winslow was speechless.
Speaking of which, she decided it was ti to settle the score. "Dad called just now and asked if I was pregnant. It’s all your fault for spouting nonsense all day."
She took the milk tea, had a sip, and added, "So, what am I supposed to do now? Go steal a baby?"
Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Steal one from . My genes are better."
Holly Winslow was speechless.
She shot him a small glare and slapped his arm. "Watch your mouth! We’re at a school. What if soone hears you? Won’t you be embarrassed then?"
"You should go get so rest."
She waved her hand dismissively. "I’ll let you out of the doghouse later."
’My tsundere wife is so damn adorable.’
’I want to kiss her.’
Mortir Quincy let out a low chuckle, then indulged himself. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, his voice deep and magnetic. "Good girl. I’ll take you out for a nice al after work."
This was the center, and even though it was nap ti, there was no guarantee another teacher wouldn’t co out.
Holly Winslow quickly moved away, then glanced around guiltily. Seeing no one, she shot him a glare and muttered under her breath, "Your mind is always in the gutter. You’ve probably forgotten all about the ’Free and Easy Wandering’ by now."
Ahem, ’as it happens, she couldn’t recite the whole thing either.’
Mortir Quincy raised a single eyebrow coolly. He then began reciting "Free and Easy Wandering" with smooth, rapid fluency. "In Boreas there is a fish, its na is Gigas. Gigas is so vast, I know not how many thousands of miles he asures. He changes and becos a bird, its na is Peng. The back of the Peng asures I know not how many thousands of miles across. When he rouses himself and flies, his wings are like clouds that cover the sky. When the seas stir, this bird prepares to journey to Auster..."
Holly Winslow was speechless.
She bared her teeth. "Oh, so impressive. I guess ’Free and Easy Wandering’ is your wife, then."
How else could you know it so well!
"No, my wife is Holly Winslow," Mortir Quincy said with a smile in his voice.
Holly Winslow bead. "And my husband is the ’Ode to the Red Cliffs.’"
Mortir Quincy was speechless.
He raised a hand and tapped her lightly on the forehead, enunciating every word. "Your husband is Mortir Quincy. If you can’t rember, I’ll help you ’review’ it a few extra tis tonight."
Holly Winslow was speechless.
She took a long, hard slurp of her milk tea, draining about half the cup, then thrust it at him. "I don’t have money to buy you Kidney Treasure Source."
"Here’s your milk tea back. And don’t even think about getting out of the doghouse now."
She paused, then silently mouthed two words at him: "Kidney. Overdraft."
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