Chapter 224: Chapter 234: Quincy the Puppy, You’re Going to Be Hamred by Dad
Holly Winslow: "..."
’Do it my ass, Mortir! You! Pervert!’
She lay lazily on the sofa, then kicked his thigh with her foot, affecting the air of the head of the household. "Look what day it is. If you have that much energy, go clean up."
Mortir Quincy: "..."
He gave her a reproachful look, then said in resignation, "Yes, my dear wife." As he spoke, he deliberately tickled the sole of her foot.
Holly Winslow quickly pulled her foot back, then sat up and pounced on him, tickling him back. "Quincy the Puppy, you’re dead at."
The two of them started wrestling on the sofa. A dozen seconds later, the mood shifted. Holly grabbed the large hand that was exploring under her clothes. "Go clean."
Mortir reluctantly got up, but not without claiming a little perk, copping a feel of her soft chest.
Holly Winslow: "..."
Her face turned beet red.
’Son of a bitch.’
Flustered and angry, she slapped him.
Mortir, the one who’d been slapped, was in a great mood. He raised an eyebrow, then grabbed a broom and started sweeping the house, inside and out.
Holly didn’t slack off either. She went to the bathroom to wash their clothes—ahem, not all of them, just their underwear.
Sohow, that rascal Mortir had stealthily appeared at the doorway. With a lazy, roguish air, he said, "Honey, wash my little undies nice and clean."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She shot him an annoyed glare. "Quincy the Puppy, is your mouth just bored or sothing?"
Seeing her puffing her cheeks and pouting, Mortir couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss her. "Yeah, it’s bored."
"A few kisses will keep it busy."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’This guy has absolutely no sha now that he’s ho.’
Mortir buried his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her and planting a few kisses on her collarbone, leaving behind red marks before he went back to cleaning, satisfied.
The two of them used to do a big clean once a week. The division of labor was unspoken; they each did their own tasks, and it took them an hour or two to clean the entire place, inside and out.
Mortir went out to take out the trash. When he ca back, he saw his wife making instant noodles. He raised a curious eyebrow. "Where’d you hide it?"
His wife had beco afraid of him throwing out her instant noodles, so she’d started hiding them whenever she bought them.
’Probably just like stashing away "secret savings."’
"I’m not telling you," Holly said smugly, tilting her chin up.
Mortir didn’t press the issue. He reached out, took the cup of noodles, and gently tossed it into the trash can, a little bit of broth spilling out. "Go watch TV. Dinner will be ready in a bit."
Holly stared at the instant noodles in the trash can: "..."
She pounded his chest twice, huffing, "Pay
back 4.50!"
Mortir raised an eyebrow, leaned down, and gave her a kiss. Then he followed it with several more. "Is that enough? If not, I can give you a few more."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She squeezed two words from her throat, "That’s enough."
"Don’t be shy, you don’t want to be short-changed," Mortir said leisurely, tilting his head. "You could also kiss
back."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She couldn’t take it anymore. She opened her mouth and bit his cheek, then quickly ducked down, snatched the instant noodles from the trash can, and fled the kitchen.
Since they had just cleaned, the trash can had a new bag, and besides, the noodles hadn’t spilled out.
’Still edible.’
A completely blindsided Mortir: "..."
’Fuck!’
He couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He looked at her on the sofa, then walked over and conceded, "Get a cup out for
too."
Holly shot him a look, then dug around in the farthest corner of the sofa and pulled out a whole case of instant noodles. She handed him a cup, warning him distrustfully, "Don’t you dare throw this one away. I only eat one cup a month."
Mortir was thoroughly amused, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Finally, helpless but doting, he said, "Okay."
’Of course it wasn’t okay. He’d throw the rest out tomorrow.’
...
「The next day」
Mortir left at eight o’clock for the second round of his written exam. Holly had a tutoring session at ten, but since she’d gone to bed too late last night, she didn’t wake up until 9:20.
As she was about to leave, she rembered sothing and went to check the sofa. Sure enough, it was gone.
Quincy the Puppy had thrown out her instant noodles again.
"..."
Mortir received a text from his wife: *Mortir Quincy, I never want to see you again.*
He didn’t have to think twice to know what it was about. He was already a pro at handling this: *Go get breakfast from the bun shop downstairs. It’s already paid for.*
Holly quickly replied: *Hmph.*
Around three or four in the afternoon, they both got ho and were curled up on the sofa, reading.
Suddenly, Holly received a phone call. It was Wyatt Winslow.
"Dad? Huh? You’re downstairs?"
Her eyes went wide as she looked at Mortir.
After she hung up, she saw Mortir’s belongings strewn all over the apartnt. It was too late to clean up. Her eyes widened, and she shot Mortir a "sympathetic" look. "Quincy the Puppy, you’re finished. Dad is going to murder you."
Mortir Quincy: "..."
Before either of them could make a move, the doorbell rang.
Holly Winslow: "..."
She’d forgotten about Wyatt’s tendency to give "late notices"—saying he was downstairs ant he was already on his way up and would be there any second.
She went to open the door. "Dad."
Wyatt Winslow grunted in acknowledgnt, then saw Mortir in his pajamas. He frowned instinctively but didn’t ask any questions.
Mortir braced himself and said, "Dad."
They were engaged, so it wasn’t wrong for him to call him Dad.
Wyatt also grunted, his gaze sweeping across the room. It was clean and tidy, with books resting on the coffee table.
Holly shrank back guiltily, then stealthily shuffled in front of Mortir.
He didn’t have to ask why Mortir was there, why his things were in the house, or if they were living together.
It was all too obvious.
He pressed his lips together. "You haven’t been out?"
Holly shook her head, smiling. "Dad, why didn’t you tell
you were coming to visit?"
"I’m here on business, just dropped by to see you," Wyatt said.
Holly didn’t believe for a second that he was here on business and "just dropped by." It was more like he’d co to see her and was doing business on the side.
She took a new pair of slippers from the cabinet for Wyatt. "Dad, I’ll take you out for hot pot tonight. There’s a place that’s especially good."
After changing into the slippers, Wyatt glanced down. The size was a near-perfect fit for his feet. They had clearly been prepared for him. "Okay."
Wyatt would be staying in B-City for several days, which ant Mortir would have to go back to his own place.
When his father-in-law wasn’t looking, he could turn a blind eye. But now that he’d seen, there was absolutely no turning a blind eye.
He had at least that much self-awareness as a son-in-law.
Ahem. It was only after he returned to his own long-unoccupied apartnt that he realized all his clothes were still at his wife’s place.
He braced himself and went back. Holly opened the door, whispering, "What is it?"
"I need a change of clothes," Mortir said, rubbing the tip of his nose.
Holly: ...
She looked him up and down. He inexplicably looked a bit like an ex-husband who’d just been kicked out of the house.
She couldn’t hold it in and covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, then gave him an "okay" sign.
She glanced at Wyatt on the sofa, then went back to the bedroom to get the clothes. On her way out, she t Wyatt’s gaze and guiltily quickened her pace.
Once the door was closed, Holly rubbed her nose, trying to ease the tension. "Dad, would you like so fruit? I can go wash so."
"No need." Wyatt gestured for her to co over.
Holly thought he was about to bring up Mortir, so she confessed without being prompted, "Dad, actually... we’re living together. Ahem, he’s a really good cook."
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