The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 394: Was She Comforted?_1



Chapter 394: Was She Comforted?_1

Jeff Quinlan, however, automatically interpreted it as her having performed poorly. His brows twitched slightly, and he wore an expression that suggested he didn’t know how to start the conversation, "... The exam questions from Tsinghua University are inherently difficult, so it’s normal for you not to do well. Don’t take it to heart. Even with professional tutoring, Ghania might not perform well either."

Having said that, he felt he shouldn’t have brought up Ghania Quinlan, worried that Nathalie Quinlan might think he had come specifically to pick a quarrel, and he hurriedly corrected himself, "What I mean is, this exam is just for independent recruitment after all. There’s still the college entrance exam ahead; you’ll have another chance. That’s what truly matters! You’re so smart, I believe if you focus on your studies, your grades won’t be worse than Ghania’s."

Nathalie Quinlan was halfway through powering up her phone and lifting her head when she realized what he’d said.

Was she being comforted?

When Jeff Quinlan saw her looking over, he became even more uncertain of where to put his hands and feet. He opened his mouth to speak, revealing a rare sincerity, "Actually, you shouldn’t be so stubborn."

"Hm?" Nathalie Quinlan narrowed her eyes, her gaze filled with restlessness.

Jeff Quinlan: "Didn’t a teacher from Tsinghua University come to No. 1 Middle School to see you, offering you a guaranteed spot?"

He was there that day.

Although he didn’t know what ensued.

But since Nathalie Quinlan was here taking the test, it implied that the conversation hadn’t been successful.

He paused for half a second: "You should have accepted the teacher’s offer. That way you wouldn’t even need to take the exam. There’s always the possibility of failure with exams, but a guaranteed spot is much more stable."

Nathalie Quinlan furrowed her brows. Her face wore an annoyed expression, unsure what he was trying to accomplish.

Jeff Quinlan probably also felt that his long-winded advice was rather humorous, as right then Emilia Sullivan called him. Fearing Emilia Sullivan might come over and start another argument upon seeing Nathalie, he didn’t linger, ending the phone call quickly and said hastily, "I have to go."

"You keep up the good work."

After speaking, he didn’t dare to meet Nathalie Quinlan’s eyes and rushed toward the examination center’s entrance.

Nathalie Quinlan watched his hurried departure, feeling her temples throb sharply twice.

Just then, the phone in her hand vibrated.

It had powered on.

She looked down at her phone.

Several messages and missed calls flooded in.

There were messages from Jhovany Sullivan, Freddy Cagwin, and Lowie Wilmar, who hadn’t been in touch for a long time. Silvania Ingram had also sent her a message from overseas asking about her results.

Nathalie Quinlan was about to reply to the messages.

Then a phone call came in.

She glanced at the flashing caller ID on the screen, stepped aside, and answered the call.

"Hello."

...

At McKinney’s No. 1 Middle School, it was lunch break, a time when everyone in class A of senior year three would normally seize the moment for revision, especially so close to the college entrance exams. Today was an exception; everyone was gathered at the back of the classroom, their expressions as tense as if they were the ones being examined.

Finally, after being scrutinized by dozens of pairs of eyes, Justin Wafford, feeling enormous pressure, finished the call. Barely had he put the phone down when Jhovany Sullivan immediately asked him.

"How did it go, what did Nathalie say? How did she perform?"

Three people from No. 1 Middle School attended Tsinghua University’s independent recruitment exam, including Nathalie Quinlan and a girl named Wenny Taylor.

But Wenny Taylor was aloof and had poor relations with her classmates.

Though she had good grades, no one in class A really wanted to interact with her.

Apart from Wenny Taylor, there was one person from class B, named Sylvia Cadwell, a Second Generation Rich who used to get along quite well with Ghania Quinlan.

Justin Wafford, looking somewhat pale, set down his phone, his expression somber. He scanned the group around him and shook his head, saying, "Nathalie didn’t say. I asked if she could estimate her score, but she said she couldn’t."

Hearing this, everyone’s hearts sank inexplicably.


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