Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 159: A Waste of 2 Cokes

Although Pantheon was bummed about his phone being confiscated, he felt even more sorry for Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy. If he hadn’t insisted on playing that game, their phones wouldn’t have been taken away.

Feeling guilty, he went to the school store and bought two cans of Coke. When Mortimer Quincy returned to the dorm room, Pantheon handed them to him, trying to get on his good side. "For you and your cousin."

Mortimer Quincy knew what he was doing. He raised an eyebrow and accepted the Cokes without any qualms.

Pantheon felt a little less guilty.

Before long, Pantheon and the others heard Mortimer Quincy chatting away on the phone again. Pantheon, whose bed was next to Mortimer’s, was a little curious. ’Didn’t Holly Winslow get her phone confiscated too?’

When Mortimer Quincy finished his call, Pantheon leaned over and whispered, "Does your cousin have two phones?"

Mortimer Quincy put down his phone and said nonchalantly, "No."

"Old Shaw gave it back."

Pantheon: "..."

Excuse me?

After a few seconds, he managed to squeeze out, "What about mine?"

"End of the month."

Mortimer Quincy gestured for him to leave, then pulled his bed curtain shut to go to sleep.

Pantheon: "..."

’Those two Cokes were for nothing. My six yuan, down the drain. Unbelievable!! Mortimer Quincy, are you even human? How can you be such a jerk.’

He let out a small, frustrated cry and collapsed onto his bed, completely dejected. "There’s no justice in this world!"

"What the hell are you screaming about? You just scared away the train of thought I was working on."

Paul Powell, who was working on a worksheet by lamplight, grumbled at him.

Pantheon looked at him. "Is your brain made of mush? I shout one time and you lose your train of thought. I bet you just can’t solve it and are looking for an excuse."

Paul Powell, having been called out: "..."

"If you’re so smart, then you do it."

"If you wanted me to explain the problem, you should’ve just said so."

Pantheon immediately scrambled out of his bed and dove under Paul’s blankets. A moment later, he said, "Are you an idiot? You can’t even solve this? You just need to draw an auxiliary line right here."

"And how was I supposed to know I needed to draw an auxiliary line?" Paul Powell retorted grumpily, working on the problem.

Pantheon tsk-tsked, hitting him where it hurt. "You’re so dense. No wonder Luna Lynch turned you down."

"Get lost! Get the hell out of my bed!"

Paul Powell bristled at his words. He was already working hard, trying to score higher than Luna Lynch on the final exams.

’A guy can’t be outdone by a girl.’

’It was a matter of pride.’

Pantheon wasn’t angry about being shoved out from under the covers. He’d taken out the frustration he felt from Mortimer Quincy’s stunt on Paul Powell, and now he felt much better.

He then went over to Zeke Zane’s bed. "I have some ’good news’ for you. Our ’cousin’s’ phone is back."

Zeke Zane, who was in the middle of his homework: "..."

"Get lost."

...

Perhaps in an effort to get more red envelope money for the New Year, the academic atmosphere in the honors class had become much more serious than in the previous three months.

During the morning self-study session, without even needing Gabe Chaucer to supervise, the students began loudly reciting template introductions for English essays. It was an assignment from their English teacher the day before.

"As far as ...is concerned."

"It goes without saying that..."

"It can be said with certainty that..."

"As the proverb says..."

"It’s generally recognized that..."

"It’s likely that ..."

...

Gabe Chaucer stood watch at the classroom door. The English teacher, Eileen Webb, came by to observe for a moment. They were all reading English, not switching to Chinese literature out of deference to their homeroom teacher’s authority.

She was relieved.

This sort of thing was a common sight at the school.

It had happened just the other day in Grade 12, Class 8. What was supposed to be the morning reading session for Chinese had turned into one for English, their homeroom teacher’s subject.

It probably wasn’t the first or second time this had happened, as the Chinese teacher ended up getting into an argument with the homeroom teacher in the office.

Time was tight in the senior year. It wasn’t just the students who were racing against the clock; the teachers were too. In fact, you could say they were even more anxious than the students, terrified of falling behind schedule and affecting their students’ performance on the college entrance exams.

This tense atmosphere of exam prep lasted right up until the end of final exams. But that didn’t mean it was time for a break.

Seniors didn’t get a winter break.

There were "voluntary" supplementary classes.

After a two-day break, classes started up again. The holiday would only truly begin on the twenty-eighth of the twelfth lunar month.

On the afternoon the break started, Wyatt Winslow took Holly Winslow to the countryside to celebrate the New Year.

*Ahem*. Before she left, that rascal Mortimer Quincy had given Holly Winslow a few stern "reminders": stay far away from Shane Lester, and she was forbidden from setting off fireworks with him.

After Holly Winslow promised, she was rewarded with several kisses.

Walter Winslow and Joan Sawyer were delighted when they got home. Joan Sawyer even cooked a fish dish herself, with Holly Winslow helping out. Smiling, Joan looked at Holly, who had grown taller. "Why didn’t you ask Miles to come visit for a couple of days?"

Holly Winslow, who was trimming scallions, looked up and chuckled. "He went back to his grandparents’ house, too."

Joan Sawyer said, "Oh." After about half a minute, her expression grew a little serious. "Holly, Grandma wants to ask you something, and you can’t lie to me."

"What is it?" Holly Winslow asked, puzzled.

"You’re older now, and you understand the ways of the world."

Joan Sawyer paused, then lowered her voice. "Have you and Miles... done anything you shouldn’t have?"

She and Walter Winslow might talk a big game about not being worried, but deep down, they were. Holly was the Winslow family’s only grandchild, and from the looks of it, Wyatt Winslow had no intention of remarrying.

If something were to happen, never mind how they would feel—Wyatt Winslow would probably be consumed by guilt.

Holly Winslow’s face flushed, but she still answered her grandmother seriously. "Grandma, no. Mortimer Quincy is very respectful."

Joan Sawyer relaxed upon hearing this. She said lovingly, "We’re not against you dating, as long as you’re both sensible about it."

"Your dad has spoiled you rotten, so you’ve never really been mistreated. But when two people are together, it’s impossible to not get your feelings hurt sometimes."

"If it’s something small, you two should try to talk it out. But if the hurt is too great, then I don’t think you should be together."

"You may not understand what I’m telling you right now, but Grandma would never lie to you."

"Your father and I, we just want you to be happy."

Joan had said these very words to her back when she’d gotten married. Hearing them again still warmed Holly’s heart. "Grandma, I won’t let myself be mistreated."

’That wasn’t a lie. From the day she married him—no, from the day she first got together with Mortimer Quincy—she had never been mistreated.’

’It wasn’t just him, either. Everyone in the Quincy family treated her as one of their own.’

Joan Sawyer smiled. "That’s good. But don’t you go hurting Miles’ feelings, either. He’s the Quincy family’s ’treasure,’ you know. They’d be heartbroken, too."

Holly Winslow giggled. "Grandma, I would never bully him."

...

After two or three lazy days in the countryside, Mortimer Quincy would call every day to check in on her.

Holly Winslow didn’t tell him that the Lester Family wasn’t in the village this year.

Shane Lester’s parents were working out of town and couldn’t come back, so Shane and Grandma Lester had gone to spend the New Year with them elsewhere.

"Holly, hurry and take a shower! It’s almost midnight. You can’t wash up after that," Joan Sawyer called toward Holly’s bedroom.

Holly Winslow came out hugging a pile of clothes. "Grandma, do you think I should wear the red one or the white one?"

Wyatt Winslow had bought her two new outfits this year.

"Wear the red one. Red is festive."

Joan Sawyer turned to look at Wyatt Winslow. "Dex, what do you think?"

Wyatt Winslow uttered a single word: "Whatever."

’They both look good.’

"What do you mean, ’whatever’?" Walter Winslow said with disdain. "Holly, wear the red one. This father of yours has absolutely no emotional intelligence."

While Holly Winslow was in the shower, her phone rang. The three people in the living room all guessed who it was. Walter Winslow, wearing his reading glasses, glanced at Wyatt Winslow. "Blockhead, answer it."

Wyatt Winslow pressed his lips together and answered the phone. To prevent a repeat of what happened last year, he stated clearly, "This is Wyatt Winslow."