The large study room was filled with scattered blueprints and books.
Some of the blueprints were crumpled into balls, while others lay flat on the floor. Books were everywhere—from the windowsill to the floor, to the desk... Alongside various knick-knacks, some piled in the corners, some on the shelves, and others just tossed in with the blueprints and books.
Marcus Shaw stood at the doorway, quite amazed at the messy study.
If he had OCD, well, he might just kill himself on the spot.
Nora Scott, emerging from the bedroom, caught sight of Marcus standing frozen and casually asked.
With a stiff twist of his neck, Marcus’s expression was indescribable. After a long pause, he spoke with difficulty, "Looking for a place to step."
Not feeling the least bit ashamed, Nora walked to the water dispenser with a cup and said, "Everything on the floor is trash, you can tidy it up."
Marcus was rendered completely speechless by her matter-of-fact attitude.
After downing a cup of water and pouring another, Nora saw Marcus still standing there not moving, puzzled.
She spoke up, asking, "What now?"
Marcus steadied himself, just about to speak when she said leisurely—
"If you don’t know how to clean up, I’ll get the maid tomorrow."
Hearing this, he couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or care.
The anger that had subsided began to rise again.
Shooting her a chilly glance, Marcus held back, turned around, and walked into the side bedroom.
Nora raised an eyebrow, brought her glass to her lips, and took a sip.
Quite a temper he has.
The night had already passed halfway.
With the curtains drawn, the room was pitch dark. The sheets were freshly changed and had a faint grassy smell.
Marcus lay on the bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
He was particular about his bed.
Sitting up, Marcus opened his eyes, his dark eyes clear.
Running his hands through his messy hair, Marcus threw off the covers, got out of bed, and left the bedroom in slippers.
The living room was faintly illuminated, a mix of moonlight and light from the lamps, casting a hazy glow over the room, barely discerning the positions of various pieces of furniture.
With a simple and cold decor, the already spacious living room seemed empty.
Without turning on the lights, Marcus fumbled his way to the water dispenser, poured himself a glass of water, and just as he was about to drink, he glanced at the master bedroom door, the sliver of light peeking through the doorway made him pause slightly.
The phone screen lit up, clearly displaying the time.
Faintly, voices could be heard.
"Didn’t see the enemy."
"Kill yourself, restart a new round."
With a gulp of cold water, Marcus gazed at the closed door for a long time, then brushed off his curiosity, lifted his legs, and walked back into the side bedroom.
"Not playing anymore."
Nora, after losing, irritably stared at the screen and threw the mouse aside.
Miguel Smith’s frustrated voice came through the headphones, "Beauty, can’t we be less reckless? Can we avoid rushing in with just a handgun trying to take down enemies? Can’t we just play it safe so I can smoothly lead you to a win? My whole glorious reputation is ruined by your recklessness."
Nora, not taking off her headphones, leaned back and asked, "Are you streaming?"
"No. You know this already, I have no mood to stream."
"So indeed, the heaven knows, the earth knows, you know, and I know."
"..." Miguel Smith was silent for two seconds, sounding even more frustrated, "That’s called self-deception!"
Nora said, "It’s too late, I need to sleep."
Miguel sighed softly, muttering, "Come on, I’m out of the house because of you. So what’s the harm in staying up late playing games with me?"
"Correction, that’s called running away from home."
"If I didn’t leave, I’d end up fighting with him." Miguel retorted.
Moving the chair forward, Nora placed her hand on the mouse, and while exiting the game, emphasized, "To correct you again, you don’t dare to hit him, so it was a one-sided beating."
"Do you have to twist the knife?"
"No, but it’s uncomfortable."
Nora answered lazily, opened a document, and clicked on several drone-related papers sent by friends, continuing, "You’ve been at odds with your dad for so long, neither of you is comfortable, haven’t you thought of doing something about it?"
The voice on the other end fell silent.
Nora also remained quiet.
Two years ago, when she first met Miguel in the snow, he had just been forced into retirement by Mr. Smith. That day, he announced to the world that his esports career was over.
A year ago, when Miguel first ran away from home and came to her, Mr. Smith was forcing him to leave his job in game planning.
The reason was that Mr. Smith’s friend’s son was addicted to the "God" game Miguel had planned, which led to a decline in his grades. Mr. Smith and his friend both felt that playing games was not a proper occupation, and those creating games were leading people astray.
Mr. Smith had an issue with Nora because he felt she was "of the same feather" as Miguel.
But what exactly is a proper occupation?
Those who diligently and honestly work all their lives may not even have the answer themselves.
After a long pause, Miguel suddenly asked, "Do you have a tofu shop in Anchel?"
"I’m going to Anchel tomorrow, hoping for some free meals and drinks."
Nora chuckled, glanced away from the papers, and agreed easily, "Sure, have fun."
Having slept for two to three hours, Nora was woken up by some noise. She sat up sleepily, her head foggy, and listened to the sounds from the living room.
Irritably ruffling her hair, Nora exhaled, then shuffled out in slippers.
As she opened the door, the living room light hit her eyes, making her squint before she could slightly open her eyes. In her narrowed view, she saw a figure changing a plastic bag.
Pausing for two seconds, Nora finally remembered the young, handsome, and diligent boy was.
Nora asked, "You cleaned the study?"
The study door was open, and several black plastic bags were placed at the entrance, appearing to be stuffed with blueprints.
Marcus gave her a sidelong glance.
Leaning against the doorframe, Nora lazily asked, "What time did you get up?"
Early to bed and early to rise, a good habit.
Mentally noting, Nora’s nose twitched slightly, catching a familiar scent which woke her up a bit. She asked, "Having instant noodles for breakfast?"
Stopping his actions, Marcus straightened up, the dim light casting over him. He tilted his head as two sharp, youthful eyes shot over.
Frowning slightly, he said, "Your fridge only has instant noodles."
Searching the entire fridge, he found only ice cream in the freezer, and instant foods in the cooler, with all bread expired. The only things left to eat were cookies and instant noodles.
Not even dry noodles.
He didn’t like cookies, especially not for breakfast.
Nora realized and nodded, saying, "Make me a cup too, while you’re at it."
Having calmly handed over the task, she didn’t wait for Marcus to agree and headed back to the bedroom to freshen up.
Lowering his head and looking at the black plastic bag in his hand, Marcus couldn’t comprehend: was he there to do chores?
He wasn’t even close with her!