Overprotected By My Tsundere CEO-Chapter 546 - 337: Pedro Langley: Too Busy Feeling Sorry for Her [Part 3]
Paused for a moment, and called him softly, "Bro."
"..."
Marcus Shaw didn’t respond to him.
Every time he called "Bro," he had something to say.
Oliver Scott cleared his throat, moved closer, and friendly suggested, "Why don’t we relax and watch a variety show for a while?"
"Not watching."
"I want to watch."
"Then you watch."
"Let’s watch together."
If you’re going to relax, relax together.
Watching a show while Marcus Shaw does exercises... it just feels weird.
It would definitely be hard to focus on the show.
The pen stopped writing, Marcus Shaw frowned slightly, and gave him a chilly sidelong glance.
"Just an hour and a half." Reaching out stealthily, Oliver suddenly grabbed Marcus Shaw’s pen, yanked it out of his hand, then smiled as he placed the phone in front of him, slowly persuading, "Ancient Mechanism Technique, learn the traditional skills of the older generation."
Marcus Shaw: "..."
After a while, Marcus Shaw furrowed his brow, "Use the computer."
The two of them huddled together in front of a screen as big as a palm watching a show...
Is the computer just decoration?
"Right away!"
Oliver raised an eyebrow and quickly went to get his laptop.
... 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶
An hour and a half.
No fast-forwarding, no pauses, no leaving.
The two sat shoulder-to-shoulder, silently finishing the entire episode.
Marcus Shaw doesn’t watch variety shows, everything seems boring to him. However, this episode was indeed well-produced, allowing him to patiently endure the ninety minutes.
"We’ll have to wait until next week. If the story doesn’t end badly, definitely a ten. Not very familiar with mechanical techniques, sure a nine. Guest performances an eight—"
Oliver Scott’s voice abruptly halted.
He stared blankly at the screen, dumbfounded for two seconds, then quickly clicked the left mouse button, pausing the end credits video.
Glancing at Oliver, Marcus Shaw stopped and looked at the paused screen.
Thus, he too was stunned momentarily.
After a while, Oliver gently nudged Marcus Shaw with his elbow, asking, "Did you see it?"
"Yeah."
Marcus Shaw nodded slightly.
There were two lines on the screen—
Script Team: Nora Scott.
Escape Room Planning: Nora Scott.
Normally, no one would pay attention to these; they weren’t used to watching it. But because it was a familiar name, a single glance was enough to spot it among many names, standing out significantly.
"..."
Silence.
Both had the same premonition.
After a brief moment, Oliver spoke slowly, "Did you know, in the end credits of ’Fire,’ there was once ’Cultural Consultant: Nora Scott’?"
"I didn’t know."
Marcus Shaw answered honestly.
He watched ’Fire,’ but didn’t wait for the end credits to finish before leaving.
"People don’t watch the credits, and those who truly notice are few; plus, the possibility of sharing a name doesn’t stir much thought."
Oliver exhaled a breath, then turned his head to stare fixedly at Marcus Shaw.
He affirmed, "I have a feeling, it’s definitely her."
Marcus Shaw: "..."
He didn’t refute.
He thought so too.
Oliver touched his chin with his fingers, unable to help but mutter softly, "With my sister’s beauty and talent, is she really a fairy or what?"
"A fairy wouldn’t help you with your exams."
Saying this coolly, Marcus Shaw stood up and carried the chair back to his original spot to work on his exercises.
The hour and a half wasted, at their speed, was enough to complete two sets of exercises.
*
Next door, the small study.
Nora Scott was leaning over the table drawing the latest Chapter of a comic, distracted several times, feeling uneasy.
Eventually, she simply gave up, tossed the stylus down, and stopped drawing.
Waiting for results is far harder to endure than acting on a whim...
Nora lightly ground her teeth.
After a good while, she exhaled and simply picked up her phone—
To send a message to Fátima.
[Nora]: Little Shijie, given the big trouble I caused, don’t you think a forty-thousand-word review is a bit too little?
It was eleven at night on a Saturday, and Fátima was in the office working on training plans.
During a break, she actually replied to Nora.
[Fátima]: ...
[Fátima]: Why not have someone else write it?
[Fátima]: Getting someone to help while still dragging them down, what did they ever do to you?
Nora: "..."
She could guess that too?
[Nora]: Can’t it be a heartfelt self-reflection from me?
[Fátima]: Just wanted to show you the colorful ways KB members die, never expected you to truly reflect.
[Nora]: So, do you still need the review?
[Fátima]: Yes.
[Fátima]: Once written, I’ll use it as a model essay, and follow your template in the future.
[Fátima]: If it’s not well-written, write it again.
Nora: ???
Model essay?
Template?
Write again?
For some reason...
Nora now felt a bit worried about Pedro Langley.
Setting aside the phone, Nora exhaled and resumed working with the stylus.
But, shortly after, Nora set down the stylus again, moved the mouse, closed the PS software, and logged into her email.
