Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 204: Jarton High Has Never Beaten No. 2 High

The students immediately erupted into a playful uproar. Amid the clamor, someone shouted, "Senior, say a few words!"

Right after, a chorus of voices began to chant, "Senior! Senior! Senior!"

Teenagers have a peculiar fascination with romance, especially when it involves a couple of top students.

After Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy graduated, rumors about them spread like wildfire. Ahem, the story of them kissing on the athletic field, in particular, was a topic the students eagerly gossiped about in private.

Thanks to that precedent, the athletic field became a major point of surveillance for the school.

And the "cousins" became a top priority for scrutiny.

Any pair of students claiming to be cousins was automatically suspected of being in a relationship.

Holly Winslow was so mortified she wanted to leave the field immediately.

’Damn you, Mortimer Quincy! Can’t you be a little more low-key?!’

’Didn’t you see the looks on the principal’s and the dean’s faces?’

If it weren’t for his good grades, that guy Mortimer would have probably been blacklisted by Jarton High, its gates forever closed to him.

The dean of discipline barked with a stern face, "Quiet! All of you, be quiet! Anyone who shouts again will have points deducted."

At the mention of point deductions, the entire student body fell silent.

The principal must have lost his mind—ahem, or rather, who knows what he was thinking—to actually ask Holly Winslow to come up and say a few words of encouragement.

Then again, if every student who dated early ended up getting into Branton University like Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Ahem. Still, it wasn’t something to be encouraged.

Holly Winslow stood at the podium and pulled down her scarf, revealing her fair face. "Hello, underclassmen. I’m your senior, Holly Winslow."

Not knowing what to say on the spot, she thought for a moment before continuing, "You have to study hard during your three years of high school. Your senior, Mortimer, and I will be waiting for you at Branton University." With that, she handed the microphone back to the dean.

Enthusiastic applause erupted from the crowd, and some of the boys even whistled.

After the dean quieted them down, he glanced at the principal, silently asking if there was more to say. The principal shook his head, and the students were dismissed.

Mortimer Quincy instinctively reached for Holly Winslow’s hand, only to receive a sharp glare. He calmly pulled his hand back.

The principal witnessed this exchange. ’...’

A thought flashed through his mind: ’Jarton High just can’t compete with Jarton Second High.’

’Ahem, what kind of nonsense am I thinking about?’

"Why don’t you two come sit in my office for a bit?"

The two nodded. After sitting in the principal’s office for a little while, they went to visit Gabe Chaucer.

Mortimer Quincy had bought him some gifts, but since it wasn’t convenient to carry them earlier, he had left them at the security office.

Gabe Chaucer was overjoyed, not because of the gifts, but because his students still remembered him.

It gave him a sense of fulfillment as a teacher.

He said amiably, "Are you heading back to campus tomorrow? Come over for dinner tonight. I’ll have my wife pick up some extra groceries."

Holly Winslow waved her hands dismissively. "That’s very kind, Teacher Chaucer, but my dad is waiting for me at home," she said politely.

Hearing this, Gabe Chaucer looked at Mortimer Quincy and teased, "Don’t tell me you’re going over there too?"

Mortimer Quincy broke into a smile. "I am."

Gabe Chaucer was speechless. ’...’

’I just can’t keep up with this younger generation.’

He didn’t try to persuade them to stay, especially not when a visit with her father was on the line. "Alright, I won’t keep you then. Make sure you come for dinner next time."

"Teacher Chaucer, if your students can’t make it, we’ll come instead!" a teacher at the opposite desk joked, though he was secretly a little envious of Gabe.

He had also taught a senior class in the last graduating year, but very few of his students ever came back to visit.

Gabe Chaucer laughed heartily. "Sounds good! I’ll call home and tell my wife to get extra ingredients. How does braised fish sound?"

The homeroom teacher for Class Three from Mortimer’s graduating year walked in just in time to hear this. "Teacher Chaucer," he teased, "throwing a banquet for your students?"

"Do we have to bring a gift? Because if we do, I’m not coming."

The other teachers laughed.

Gabe Chaucer chuckled and turned to Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow. "When you two get married, make sure you send a special invitation just to Mr. Shelby. We’ll see if he has the nerve to show up without a gift then."

Holly Winslow flushed, embarrassed by the teasing, but Mortimer Quincy calmly replied, "We’ll be sure to inform all our teachers when we get married."

Gabe Chaucer and the other teachers all laughed. They shed their usual stern demeanor, chatting with the young couple as easily as family elders.

After staying for another ten minutes or so, Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow left Jarton High.

Seeing that his "wife" was still "angry," Mortimer Quincy pulled her into his arms, bent down, and coaxed her, "Wife, I was wrong. I won’t disturb your sleep next time."

The only part of her face visible above her scarf, Holly’s eyes, rolled in his direction. ’This guy hasn’t changed in ten years.’ "Quincy the Puppy, your promises are like..."

She added emphatically, "Farts."

Mortimer couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. "Whatever my wife says, goes. How about we get some barbecue tonight?"

Holly Winslow tilted her chin up defiantly, but then quickly snuggled back into her scarf. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I want to go home and eat with my dad."

"We’ll invite Dad to come with us."

Seeing her retreat into her scarf like a turtle into its shell, Mortimer couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and pulled her hood up over her head.

Holly thought for a moment, then took out her phone to call Wyatt Winslow. When he picked up, she asked sweetly, "Dad, what are you doing?"

"I’m at home," came Wyatt Winslow’s voice.

’I don’t believe for a second he’s home,’ Holly thought. ’If he was and saw that I’d changed the bedsheets, he would’ve called me for sure.’

’He’s lying.’

"Dad, I’m back in town."

Wyatt Winslow fell silent for a moment. Then, with an almost imperceptible softness in his voice, he said, "I’m on my way back now."

Imagining the look on his face upon being found out, Holly couldn’t help but laugh. "No rush, Dad. Take your time."

"Dad, Mortimer wants to treat you to barbecue. Do you want to go?"

"Okay," Wyatt Winslow agreed, surprisingly quick to accept.

「The Winslow Residence」

Feeling perfectly justified, Holly Winslow ordered Mortimer Quincy to hang the comforter out to dry. Knowing he was at fault, Mortimer obediently complied. Holly sipped a glass of water as she watched him work.

Mortimer turned to look at her and suddenly remarked, "Wife, our bedsheets still need to be washed."

Holly Winslow was speechless. ’...’

She choked on her water. "COUGH, COUGH."

She turned, walked into the living room, and sat on the sofa, pointedly ignoring him.

’When it comes to being a scoundrel, Scholar Quincy takes the crown.’

After he finished hanging the sheets, Mortimer sat down next to Holly, wrapping an arm around her waist. A wicked grin played on his lips. "Does it still hurt?"

Holly was speechless again. ’...’

Even she, thick-skinned as she was, couldn’t stop a blush from creeping up her face. She pinched him hard. "You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?"

Mortimer raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "It is a little bored."

With that, he leaned down and planted a firm kiss on her lips.

Holly: ’...’

...

When Wyatt Winslow got back, he found the two of them sitting primly on the sofa, watching TV. His expression was reasonably pleasant as he set a bag of fruit on the table. "Holly, go wash this so we can eat."

Holly habitually nudged Mortimer beside her with her foot. Taking the hint, Mortimer stood, picked up the fruit, and took it to the kitchen to be washed.

Wyatt Winslow pressed his lips together. He shot Holly a look of mild disapproval and whispered, "Holly, don’t be so willful."

Holly just shook her head nonchalantly, giggling as she wheedled, "Dad, come on, sit down."

Wyatt Winslow’s expression was a mixture of helplessness and adoration. He set down his briefcase and followed them into the kitchen.

Seeing how skillfully the young man was washing the fruit, he pursed his lips. "I’ve spoiled Holly rotten," he said to Mortimer. "If she ever does anything wrong, you tell me, and I’ll set her straight."

Mortimer was already well acquainted with his father-in-law’s tendency to protect his own. "Uncle Winslow," he said politely, "Holly is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with her at all."

Wyatt Winslow smiled at him, then rolled up his own sleeves. "Why don’t you go sit down for a bit?"

"Dad, let me do the washing."

Mortimer’s mouth moved faster than his brain, the word "Dad" slipping out before he could stop it. ’...’

He didn’t dare meet his father-in-law’s eyes.