The sky had not yet fully brightened, but the living room lights were on, and the room was filled with bright illumination.
Sitting at the dining table, facing each other, Jack Carter and Marcus Shaw each had a cup of instant noodles in front of them.
Lifting the lid of the noodles, Nora Scott caught a whiff of aroma and paused her chopsticks, "Why does it smell like barbecue?"
"I added barbecue seasoning."
Picking up some noodles with her chopsticks and blowing on them to cool, Nora asked again, "Weren’t the seasoning packets in the cup?"
Staring down at his noodles, Marcus Shaw patiently forced out two words, "Tastes better."
Besides changing the seasoning, the noodles were also cooked, not just soaked in hot water. Nora contemplated how picky he was, then grabbed some noodles and popped them into her mouth.
Changing into a new set of clothes, Nora fixed her collar and, seeing Marcus at the door with his backpack, said, "I’ll give you a lift."
Marcus almost immediately refused without any pause.
Marcus hesitated, unable to find a reason to refuse, and thus had to agree by default.
Stepping out first, Marcus leaned against the wall near the door, with one hand in his pocket, looking at his phone with nothing better to do.
Before he could wait for Nora to change her shoes, he heard the sound of the door next door opening.
Jack Carter’s gaze swept over and he flashed a bright, cheerful smile.
Marcus glanced up, momentarily dazzled by his smile.
"Master Pedro said you both should be leaving at this time. He asked me to bring breakfast over first." Jack Carter approached, holding two large paper bags, "This morning, we made youtiao and buns, with soy milk. If there’s anything you like or dislike, let me know, and I’ll keep it in mind for next time."
In front of him, the aroma of youtiao and soy milk wafted from the paper bags.
Possibly for the first time in his life, Marcus found himself momentarily frozen, his brain stopping its usual activity, and he didn’t immediately react.
—What kind of heavenly neighbors are these?
"We were going to eat—"
Marcus’s words were abruptly cut off by Nora Scott.
Hearing the door close, Marcus barely turned his head to see a hand naturally accepting the breakfast bag from Jack Carter.
After exchanging a few words, Jack Carter said his goodbyes and returned next door.
Nora shoved one of the portions into Marcus’s arms.
Holding the paper bag in one hand, Marcus put his phone back in his pocket and suspiciously asked, "Do they prepare all three meals for you each day?"
Nora’s gaze lingered on the paper bag for a few seconds, then she smiled ambiguously and uncertainly.
Nora headed toward the elevator.
Weighing the breakfast, Marcus weirdly realized that, perhaps being accustomed to it, he didn’t feel any emotional fluctuations inside.
Clicking his tongue, Marcus held onto the paper bag and followed in Nora’s steps.
During the morning rush hour, the traffic volume was enormous, with pedestrians bustling busily on the streets.
Nora drove steadily, weaving smoothly through the vehicles.
When they reached a wide, secluded road, she suddenly hit the brakes.
Having not slept well all night, Marcus’s eyelids flew open as he was dozing off in the car.
The passenger-side window rolled down, and at the same time, the horn blared.
Nora’s voice, mixed with the cool morning breeze, completely shattered what remaining drowsiness Marcus felt.
Marcus rubbed his face and looked over towards the road.
A rather disheveled young man was crouching on the roadside, holding an unlit cigarette. His appearance was barely passable, but he seemed dispirited, with a pallor complexion, dark circles, and red, swollen eyes, like a discarded, wronged wife.
The coat he wore was disheveled, seemingly from an expensive brand, yet on him, it looked like something from a street stall.
He noticed the sound, reacted slowly, and turned his head sluggishly. Upon seeing who was driving, he was suddenly startled, with a glimmer of emotion returning to his vacant eyes—shock, embarrassment, and disdain.
The emotional shift was too complicated for Marcus to grasp the entirety, the disheveled young man didn’t react further, and then they heard Nora leisurely ask—
"Did you get dumped?"
This schadenfreude tone significantly lowered her beauty, demeanor, and the classy aura from being in a luxury car!
Taking a deep breath, Jesse Johnson stood up abruptly, moved to the passenger side, and his bloodshot eyes and fatigue turned into anger, "Was it you who released Lily’s photos?"
Nora raised an eyebrow in response, "Interesting. In Master Shaw’s eyes, am I capable of such a thing?"
Jesse Johnson choked, then gritted his teeth, "Then you—"
"Aren’t I allowed to gloat?"
Jesse Johnson was shocked by her candor, rendering him speechless and unsure of where to even start his retort.
Marcus listened with a bemused expression.
Did this mean that her using terms like ’little ginseng’ and ’little rooster’ last night wasn’t even her full potential?
Following that, Marcus heard Nora change her tone, calmly and leisurely saying in an experienced manner, "It’s alright, don’t take it too seriously; this kind of thing happens quite often. Young people, you know, get used to learning from experience."
With a second of pause, Marcus took his earphones out, adjusted his position slightly, and looked out with a mix of apathy and unexpected sympathy in his eyes.
At this point, it’d be not to retaliate, even a little, would be truly gutless.
However, Jesse Johnson, who had always relied on the Johnson family to act recklessly, wasn’t experienced in ’quarreling’ with women.
Now both vexed and furious, utterly livid, all he managed to spit out was—
"Damn, what’s it to you!"
His furious outrage elicited no immediate response.
From the front seats came some rustling, something Marcus couldn’t see from his angle, perhaps the sound of a bag being opened.
Soon, Nora spoke again, "Happy breakup, this is for you."
This time, the tone wasn’t so irksome, calm and bland, yet the words themselves were provoking enough.
At last, Jesse Johnson could stand no more, yanked the car door open, lunged inside, and yelled in fury—
"Nora Scott, are you even humane—"
His words halted abruptly, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
Marcus, who had been expecting Jesse Johnson to explode in rage and burst out in cursing, heard him begin only to suddenly go silent. Naturally curious, he slid slightly, suspiciously glancing forward.
Nora leaned back casually, her left hand resting on the steering wheel, her slender, fair fingers tapping lightly. She turned her head towards the passenger seat, and amidst the morning light, her delicate brows and eyes were imbued with a gentle smile, appearing soft and pleasing.
No signs of a confrontational atmosphere, with the soft glow enveloping her, she exuded an aura of calmness and tranquility, quite opposite to the vexing impression from when she spoke.
A sight that was truly pleasing to the eye.
Just a glance dissolved all resentment and agitation within.
And the hand that reached out to Jesse Johnson held a piece of paper with a drawn pattern. As the wind blew, the faint sight of a scrawled "Zero" could be seen.