On the first day of the new semester, Mortimer Quincy became a sensation. He was all over the Branton University forums for placing first in the Finance department with the highest scores in its history—all perfect.

In a department where over half the students had failed their courses, his results were considered freakishly impressive.

It was an especially crushing blow for the students who had failed with scores below sixty.

Their intelligence felt completely steamrolled.

Holly Winslow’s grades were also excellent. She ranked seventh in the Math department, the only girl to make it into the top ten.

The two of them became a bona fide academic power couple.

It’s not unusual to be a top student in high school. Anyone who got into Branton University was basically a top student in high school.

But being a top student in university? That makes you a *real* top student. To stand out again from a group of elites who already made it through the grueling college entrance exams—that was a testament to true ability.

Anyone who had been waiting to see them fail had to eat their words now.

There was no catching up to grades like theirs.

Pantheon brought Mortimer some homemade pickled vegetables, stopping by his dorm when he had a break between classes. "My grandma made these. Didn’t Holly say she liked them last time? I brought some extra..."

He suddenly noticed the ring on Mortimer’s middle finger. "Holy shit, you’re wearing a ring?"

Mortimer gave him a look reserved for idiots. "What else would it be?" he said coolly.

Pantheon: "..."

He felt like he’d taken a critical hit. After a good ten seconds, he managed to say, "You guys actually got engaged behind our backs."

Mortimer looked him square in the eye and raised his ringed hand. "Excuse me, but we got engaged fair and square, out in the open."

He put special emphasis on the "fair and square" part.

Pantheon: "..."

Aside from another "Holy shit," he was speechless.

He started to question reality. ’Am I actually several years younger than Mortimer?’

’Yeah, that must be it.’

’Otherwise, why would I still not have a girlfriend?’

Mortimer was quite satisfied with his reaction. He raised an eyebrow, then pulled some specialty beef jerky out of his locker and handed it to him. "Split this with Zeke."

"You can leave now. I’m going to accompany my girlfriend to class."

Pantheon: "..."

He theatrically pinched the philtrum beneath his nose and kicked his legs. "If I die from this, you’re responsible!"

Mortimer shot him a look, then picked up his pen and book and walked out.

Pantheon let out a howl behind him. "Good heavens, how can you even compare us?! This isn’t one person being compared to another; this is a person being compared to a dog!"

His other roommates burst out laughing. Howard Gardner grinned. "You’re not the only one. We’re all single dogs here."

...

The large lecture hall, which used to be nearly half-empty, was now completely full. If Serena Shaw and their friends hadn’t saved seats for Holly and Mortimer, they would have had to stand for the entire lecture.

Holly was still a bit baffled. She turned to Serena, confused. "Since when are Professor Langdon’s lectures this popular?"

Of all the classes in the Math department, Professor Langdon’s was by far the driest. Ahem, during the hottest couple of months at the start of the semester, Holly had almost fallen asleep listening to him.

Serena glanced at the boy sitting next to her. "It’s not Professor Langdon who’s popular, it’s your boyfriend. Haven’t you noticed that over half of the extra people here are girls?"

"They’re here to steal your man."

Holly: "..."

She glanced at the "social butterfly" beside her, taking in his high-bridged nose, long eyelashes, and narrow, deep-set eyes.

Seeing her lean in to sniff him a few times, Mortimer thought his clothes had a strange smell. Just as he was about to ask, he heard his fiancée say, "You’re smelling good today, Mr. Social Butterfly."

’Like a hot commodity.’

Mortimer: "..."

’Damn it.’ He was so exasperated he had to laugh.

Even Professor Langdon paused for a moment when he entered the classroom, apparently taken aback by the sheer number of students.

He walked up to the lectern and quipped in his usual deadpan style, "Did I walk into the wrong classroom, or did you all?"

The whole class erupted in laughter.

Holly tilted her head and said, "Quincy the Puppy, you’re the one in the wrong classroom."

Mortimer raised an eyebrow. "I’m with Holly Winslow."

Serena and their friends made "tsk tsk" sounds. It was so sweet it gave them a toothache.

Professor Langdon’s class was the one Holly had scored the lowest in out of all her courses, with only an eighty-six. If the professor hadn’t been generous with the coursework grades, she probably wouldn’t have even scored in the eighties.

Aside from her, Serena and all her other roommates had failed.

The Math department’s results were even more disastrous than the Finance department’s. You could count the students who hadn’t failed a single course on one hand.

That’s why Serena and her friends never dared to skip Professor Langdon’s class again.

For now, at least.

Once they passed the make-up exam, however, all bets were off.

Holly was now truly feeling the joy of being a top student. Because of her grades, she successfully applied for and received the National Endeavor Scholarship, worth three thousand yuan, as well as the second-place departmental scholarship, worth two thousand yuan, for a total of five thousand yuan.

This kind of prize money, earned through academic excellence, brought a profound sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

’The university has acknowledged my hard work.’

Her scholarship award was already quite substantial, but when you saw what that guy Mortimer had won, you realized the gap between them was immense.

The National Scholarship for 6,000 yuan, the university-level first-place scholarship for 5,000 yuan, and the department-level first-place scholarship for 3,000 yuan, for a grand total of 14,000 yuan.

And that was just for one semester. If Mortimer kept this up, over four years he would have enough for a down payment on a house in a smaller city.

Holly had always thought herself shallow for assuming scholarship students must be poor; now she understood just how wrong she was.

’My perspective was so narrow.’

At the same time, she came to a profound realization: people with good grades really were more *rich* than people with bad grades—at least, that was the case in university.

He watched her holding the two bank cards, grinning to herself with her eyes curved into lovely crescents. It was the exact same expression he wore every month when he handed over his "paycheck."

He sighed dramatically. "Sigh. How pitiful, having to hand over her ’paycheck’ at such a young age."

Holly shot him a sideways glance. ’This guy just loved being dramatic.’ She’d never made him hand over his money. In fact, he was the one who insisted on it every time, and he’d even throw a small tantrum if she refused.

To this day, she still remembered the first time he had insisted on turning over his salary.

She had her own money and had never entertained the thought of managing their household finances.

Besides, Mortimer had plenty of social obligations, so his expenses were naturally high. She would even occasionally ask him if he was short on money.

That guy would always just reply that he was short a person.

One day, Mortimer went to a high school reunion. He must have gotten drunk and rowdy, because when he came back, he gave her all his money, his bank cards, his property deeds, his car keys—even the loose change he had for the bus.

He gave her his entire net worth, truly all of it. You could tell just by looking at that one last coin.

She was completely dumbfounded. For a moment, she actually thought he was leaving her with nothing so he could run off and elope with another woman.

It wasn’t an outlandish thought. Several couples she knew had already divorced, and even Anna Willow and Iris Kensington had had their share of arguments.

The phrase "the seven-year itch" didn’t come from nowhere; there had to be a reason for its existence.

Just as she was about to ask, "Do you want a divorce?"

Mortimer suddenly blurted out, "Honey, do you not love me anymore?"

Saying this, he pounced on her, holding her face in his hands. Looking straight at her, he asked again, "You never ask me to hand over my paycheck, and you don’t ask me to buy you things anymore. Does that mean you don’t love me anymore?"

It took her a moment to process what was happening, and then she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She told him that wasn’t it, but he refused to believe her, insisting on stuffing everything into her hands.

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she finally accepted it all.

Then, the guy suddenly remembered he was also wearing a valuable belt.

That belt was, in fact, quite valuable—worth over ten thousand yuan.

So he started unbuckling it, and somewhere in the process... the whole vibe changed.

Later, Holly heard from Anna Willow that during that same high school reunion, all the guys, including Zeke Zane, had been collectively airing their grievances: their wives and girlfriends were too strict, their allowances were too small, and every secret stash of cash they hid was inevitably discovered.

Holly finally understood why that guy Mortimer had felt so "left out."