Xavier Jennings and Howard Gardner: "..."

That was a goddamn gut punch.

After their afternoon classes ended, they had no evening study session, and with no morning classes the next day, the two went home to enjoy some time alone together.

When they got home, Holly Winslow started cleaning while Mortimer Quincy went to the kitchen to cook.

By the time they finished dinner, it was already past eight. After letting their food digest for a bit, they took their books out to the balcony to enjoy the breeze.

While Holly was reading, that rascal Mortimer suddenly held out his hand and said, "Honey, I need some allowance."

Holly froze for a moment, giving him a strange look. She asked, with pure and simple curiosity, "What do you need an allowance for?"

Mortimer rarely asked her for spending money, which made her suspect he had a secret stash.

"To buy face masks," Mortimer said, pressing his lips together.

Holly: "..."

She knew why he wanted to buy face masks and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She reached out, cupped his face in her hands, and said with a grin, "Quincy the Puppy, I was just teasing you. You’re not old, not at all."

Mortimer rubbed his head against her shoulder like a pouting child. "Honey, I still want to buy the face masks."

Holly: "..."

She was dying of laughter.

"I’ll transfer you the money. Is a thousand enough?"

She picked up her phone and transferred him a thousand.

But just getting the allowance wasn’t enough for the prickly Mortimer. After washing his face, he used her skincare products and face masks. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Holly collapsed on the bed, her stomach aching from laughing so hard. Then she took out her phone, snapped a picture of him just as he was about to put on a face mask, and posted it to her feed: I joked that he was getting old, and now he’s started a skincare routine.

Pantheon commented instantly: Holy shit, is that Scholar Quincy? You’re blinding my eyes.

Anna Willow: My handsome cousin is still drop-dead gorgeous at home, rofl, I’m cheering for my handsome cousin!

Pantheon @Zeke Zane: Freshly baked green hat, piping hot. Please accept it.

Zeke Zane: Sorry, but I think that green hat would suit you better.

Iris Kensington: Ahhhh!! Holly, take a couple more pictures! Your handsome cousin’s skin is so good, it even holds up under a death angle shot.

Paul Powell: Tsk tsk tsk, they’re already living together. Looks like Boris Owens has definitely lost.

Boris Owens: Get the hell away from me, you old virgin.

Paul Powell: Scumbag Owens, what a scumbag, scumbag, scumbag.

Wyatt Winslow saw these comments, a slight ache starting in his brow. Finally, he commented with one word: Delete.

When Holly saw it, her eyes widened slightly. She stuck out her tongue. ’I forgot to block Dad again.’

Just as she was about to edit the post, a call came from Wyatt Winslow. She answered weakly, "Dad."

"Mm, you didn’t go back to the dorms?" Wyatt Winslow asked, rubbing his temples.

Holly touched the tip of her nose. "No, I’m heading back in a little bit."

The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds, then he grunted, "Mm," and said, "Get some sleep."

After hanging up, she looked at Mortimer, who was still wearing the face mask. "I forgot to block my dad."

Mortimer raised an eyebrow, took out his phone to see what she had posted, and after half a minute, he said, "Honey, you’ve made a great contribution to my ’bad’ relationship with your dad."

"I bet the next time I try to set foot in your house, I’ll be thrown out."

Holly giggled. "It was a complete accident. It won’t happen again."

When she checked her feed again, she saw Pantheon had tagged @SummerBreeze: Bro, a kindred spirit. I wanted to say the same thing.

Paul Powell @SummerBreeze: Bro, c’mon, add me as a friend.

Holly: "..."

She shot Mortimer a look, signaling for him to go deal with it.

Mortimer posted directly in their high school dorm group chat: The ’kindred spirit’ is my father-in-law.

The group chat went silent for about ten seconds, then suddenly exploded with a dozen messages of "Holy shit."

Pantheon: Mortimer, my admiration for you has reached the level of prostrating myself in worship.

Mortimer replied nonchalantly: Don’t mention it.

Pantheon: ...

’I wasn’t *actually* praising him, was I?’

...

Robin Roland came to Branton University, and Holly went to meet her after getting the call. From a distance, she could see her dressed in a simple short-sleeved shirt and long pants.

She ran over, calling out with a grin, "Aunt Roland."

Robin Roland held up the bag in her hand. "I figured you must have finished your handmade brown sugar, so I stopped by that shop on my newspaper route today and bought some more."

Holly glanced at the bag in her hand. A wave of warmth washed over her, but at the same time, she felt a pang of sadness.

’Someone with no blood relation can care about me, but my own mother won’t. I just don’t understand why.’

She composed herself and said, "Aunt Roland, just tell me where the shop is, and I’ll go buy it myself next time. You shouldn’t stay out in the hot sun for too long; it’s easy to get heatstroke."

Robin Roland waved her hand dismissively. "I’m used to it. The shop with the handmade brown sugar is a bit out of the way. Theirs is cheaper than other places, but it’s very pure."

"Besides, I know the owner, so I can get it a few bucks cheaper. If you go, you’ll get ripped off."

Holly saw the sweat on her forehead, pulled a tissue from her bag, and handed it to her. "Aunt Roland, how much was it? I’ll pay you back."

"No need. I still haven’t even finished paying you for Young Yancy’s tutoring."

Aunt Roland handed her the bag and pointed toward the school gate. "I have to go now. My newspapers are still sitting at the gate; the guard wouldn’t let me bring them in."

"Aunt Roland, wait a second." Holly didn’t take the bag and instead hurried to the small campus market to buy her a bottle of water. "Aunt Roland, don’t try to save money on water. It’s so hot today."

Robin Roland was very frugal and usually just brought tap water from home to drink.

"I have some. There’s still more than half a bottle left. You drink it, Holly," Robin Roland said, waving her hand to refuse it.

Holly forcefully pressed it into her hand and pretended to be upset. "Aunt Roland, if you’re going to be so formal with me, then I’ll have to be formal with you from now on."

As if he had coordinated with Robin Roland, Wyatt Winslow called that afternoon and told her to come to the school gate to pick something up.

She looked at the handmade brown sugar in her hand, then at Wyatt Winslow in the driver’s seat, and her eyes suddenly stung with tears.

’A seven or eight-hour drive, just to bring me some handmade brown sugar.’

Her voice was a little hoarse. "Dad, I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle these things myself. You don’t have to worry about me."

No matter how old a child gets, they’re still your child. It’s a lie to say you don’t worry. Wyatt Winslow said in a deep voice, "I was just passing by, so I bought it."

Holly didn’t believe him for a second. Leaning against the car window from the outside, she pouted slightly and said, "Dad, you were ’just passing by,’ and Aunt Roland was also ’just passing by.’ Do you think I’m that easy to fool?"

Having been exposed, Wyatt Winslow pressed his lips together. After a few seconds, he said, "Call me before you run out, and I’ll bring you more."

Holly didn’t reject his fatherly love. Seeing that he was about to leave, she quickly asked, "Dad, aren’t you staying for dinner? I wanted to take you to try the beef rice combo at our school cafeteria. It’s really good, though not as good as your cooking, of course."

Wyatt Winslow still had a lot of work to deal with and had already been in a rush to get to Branton City, turning a seven or eight-hour drive into just five or six. But when he heard her words, he agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

As soon as they entered the cafeteria, people would occasionally glance their way. After all, Holly was somewhat famous on campus.

The belle of the Mathematics Department and the girlfriend of the star student in the Finance Department.

Wyatt Winslow looked down at his own clothes—a simple, casual outfit. Then he looked at Holly, who was smiling as she held his arm.

’Am I embarrassing my daughter?’

After a few seconds, he pulled his hand away.

Parents always express their concern for their children with a cautious, delicate love.

Holly looked at him, confused. Seeing him deliberately creating distance, she understood everything at once. She linked her arm through his again and called out three times, "Dad! Dad! Dad!"

’Dad, no matter who you are, whether you’re poor or rich, you’re my dad. Just my dad.’

’Just like how I’m your daughter, and you’ve never once given up on me.’