Reborn with My Genius Husband-Chapter 150: The Cafeteria Lady’s Shaky Hand Plays Favorites
His shocking words made Holly Winslow choke on a laugh. "COUGH... COUGH, COUGH..."
’Damn you, Mortimer Quincy.’
’We’re in the classroom!’
She shot him a flirty look, then buried her head in her chemistry homework, murmuring, "The reaction of sodium bicarbonate and sodium hydroxide is NaHCO3 + NaOH = Na2CO3 + H2O."
There were a lot of notes from the last two periods, especially now that they were in the review phase. One class period now covered as much material as two had before.
Holly Winslow had barely been able to keep up with her note-taking during class, and she had to fill in some parts after the bell rang.
Turning in the notes by the end of study hall was a challenge, so many students’ handwriting devolved into a rushed, messy scrawl.
Luna Lynch was the math class representative. Usually, she would start collecting the notebooks five minutes before the end of class.
She glanced at Paul Powell, who was still copying her notes, pushed up her glasses, and lowered her head to continue with her own work.
Paul Powell finished copying in the final minute and let out a huge sigh of relief before handing the notebook to Luna Lynch. "Luna, thanks." As he spoke, he seized the chance to look at her. The girl was in her school uniform, her thick bangs clipped completely away from her face.
Her somewhat round face was completely revealed.
’She actually looks better without bangs.’
Luna Lynch pushed up her glasses, feeling a bit awkward. After taking the notebook, she announced, "Time to turn in the math notebooks."
Chase Hawkins, who was still copying his notes: "..."
’Ms. Lynch, you don’t have to be so biased.’
"Ah! Ms. Lynch, wait for me! Just give me a few more minutes."
Luna Lynch didn’t respond, but she didn’t rush him to turn it in, either.
Mortimer Quincy handed his math notebook to Holly Winslow. Holly pulled out her own custom-covered notebook, stacked the two together, and deliberately placed hers on top.
’A symbol of my status in this household.’
A glint of amusement flashed in Mortimer Quincy’s eyes. Propping his head on his hand, he murmured suggestively, "So you want to be on top? I’ll satisfy you next time."
Holly Winslow brandished a small fist at him, warning him to shut up. Then she handed the notebooks to Luna Lynch. "Mine and Mortimer’s."
Luna Lynch simply thought that Holly didn’t really need to say that. Everyone in class knew that the "cousins" were very close. "I know."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’Why did that sound so strange? It’s enough to make me think she’s discovered our relationship.’
Meeting her gaze, Luna Lynch asked in confusion, "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," Holly Winslow said, touching her nose guiltily.
Relying on their friendship as deskmates, Chase Hawkins scribbled down the rest of his notes.
His writing was so sloppy that Luna Lynch couldn’t even recognize his name. She handed it back to him. "Rewrite your name."
Chase Hawkins obediently wrote his name again.
Class was over by then. Luna Lynch prepared to carry the pile of notebooks to the office; notebooks from over forty people were quite heavy.
Paul Powell wanted to help her carry them but didn’t dare—or rather, he was afraid Old Shaw would get the wrong idea.
So Holly Winslow helped her carry them to the office.
At dinner, Paul Powell insisted on treating her and Mortimer Quincy to a meal.
Holly Winslow knew that this group of guys was tight on money lately, so she pulled out her meal card. "Let me treat you all. You can get me back next time."
"Cousin, I’ll treat you. I’ve still got over three hundred on my card. That’s more than enough for half a month," Paul Powell said magnanimously.
’Three hundred is enough for meals, but definitely not for snacks.’
Just as Holly Winslow was about to say it really wasn’t necessary, Mortimer Quincy, who was standing beside her, had already swiped his card. He lowered his head and asked her, "Pork ribs or braised pork belly?"
"You get the braised pork belly, and I’ll have the pork ribs." Holly Winslow blinked at him, her clever little plan obvious.
’That way, I can have some of both.’
Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow, then said to the woman at the counter, "One order of braised pork belly and one of pork ribs."
"Alright."
The woman nodded with a beaming smile. The pork ribs were served in an earthenware bowl and came in a fixed portion, so she couldn’t give any extra.
The braised pork belly, however, was not. She scooped two heaping, meaty spoonfuls of it into Mortimer Quincy’s bowl.
She gave him not only more meat, but a larger serving of vegetables as well.
"Thank you."
Mortimer Quincy then handed his meal card to Zeke Zane and the others. "Pay me back later."
Without another word to them, he carried his tray to find a seat. Holly Winslow went to get two bowls of soup.
A short while later, Pantheon and the others sat down nearby. Pantheon returned the meal card to Mortimer Quincy, saying fawningly, "Thanks, Boss."
Then he glanced from his own bowl to Mortimer’s. They had both gotten the eight-yuan braised pork belly, so why was the difference in portion size so huge?
Not only did he get less, but his was full of potatoes.
"The cafeteria lady’s ’shaky hand’ seems to play favorites. Mortimer, are you related to her or something?"
Zeke Zane had once been fortunate enough to overhear the cafeteria ladies discussing how handsome Mortimer Quincy was. "It’s a ’good-looks’ relationship."
Mortimer Quincy didn’t say anything. After pocketing his meal card, he picked the meat off the pork ribs and placed it in Holly Winslow’s bowl.
Holly Winslow popped a piece into her mouth, then picked up another and fed it to him. Once he’d eaten it, she asked, "Aren’t the ribs especially tender today?"
"Mhm."
Seeing a bit of grease at the corner of her mouth, Mortimer Quincy reached out and wiped it away with his hand.
The germaphobic top student was wiping it away with his bare hand.
Pantheon, Zeke Zane, and Chase Hawkins: "..."
The PDA was so thick it was giving them a toothache.
The other students: "..."
It seemed they had all suddenly lost their appetites.
...
During the evening self-study session, the advanced class’s math teacher finally had time to go through the notebooks that had been turned in. They were sorted into two convenient piles.
The students’ handwriting was a competition in sloppiness, each more "artistic" than the last. An uninformed observer might have mistaken it for an art contest.
His blood pressure shot up the more he looked, and he finally couldn’t contain his anger. "I should post these students’ work on the display board for everyone else to admire this ’mathematical art form’!"
The other teachers were already used to this sort of thing. One of them chuckled and chimed in, "These students do their homework as if a ghost were chasing them. I have one in my class who not only copies his assignments, but his handwriting is so illegible I can’t decipher a single word. I asked him to read it aloud, and even he couldn’t make it out."
The other teachers all laughed. The head teacher of Class 4 said in a tone of exasperation, "Sigh. Students are the same all over the world."
"If they could just cause us a little less trouble, we teachers would be perfectly content."
Gabe Chaucer had just walked into the office when he heard this. Unaware that the topic had been sparked by his own students, he smiled and asked, "What’s the same all over?"
The head teacher of Class 3 explained, "Teacher Zane is grading your class’s notebooks, and the handwriting is atrocious. We were just saying that all students are alike."
Upon hearing this, Gabe Chaucer huffed, "I just finished lecturing them! I feel like a nagging mother. The moment I take my eyes off them, all sorts of problems arise."
"Teacher Zane, let me have a look when you’re done grading. I want to see who these ’master artists’ are."
The math teacher nodded. He was truly vexed by the students’ sloppy handwriting. He flipped through the notebooks and pulled out one belonging to his star student—Mortimer Quincy.
Mortimer Quincy’s work was simple and clear, his handwriting bold and confident.
His mood brightened considerably. He showed the notebook to the other teachers. "If all students were like Mortimer Quincy, I’d probably wake up smiling every morning."
The teachers in the office always paid special attention to the top-ranked student, so the others all came over for a closer look. The head teacher of Class 3 remarked, "We all wish for students like that. Teacher Chaucer, you’re really lucky to have him. If you manage to produce a provincial top scholar in the sciences, you’ll be a shoo-in for a ’Key Teacher’ award."
Gabe Chaucer waved his hand modestly, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "It’s not just my doing. The other teachers here deserve credit, too."
The math teacher continued looking through the notebooks and, a moment later, came across Holly Winslow’s.
Holly Winslow’s notebook was exemplary. Her steps were detailed, and her handwriting was elegant and neat.
He couldn’t help but sigh in admiration again. "That pair of cousins, Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy, are truly a breath of fresh air."
