"Ethan Scott, graduated from Capital Tech, same major as you in university, then switched to archaeology for his master’s. Now he’s working in an archaeological team. Aaron Scott is gradually letting him manage the antique business, probably has high hopes for him." After all, he’s the only promising one; it’s hard not to have high hopes. The hand warmer is clutched in the palm, both hands pressed together, transmitting warmth bit by bit, the icy fingers gradually warming up. After being briefed, Nora Scott clicked her tongue, "You sure know a lot." Pedro Langley looked at her meaningfully. After discovering the blood relationship between Nora Scott and Ernesto Woods, he had Butler Loxley investigate the Scott family. This is all information he only learned recently. But he couldn’t tell Nora Scott. His tone dipped slightly, "Common knowledge." Nora Scott was speechless for a moment. After a while, she prepared to stand up, "We’ve eaten, gifts given, and even got an unexpected bonus, let’s go back." Just as she steadied herself, Nora Scott heard Pedro Langley’s deep, magnetic voice, her figure swayed, and she glanced downward askance. Under her gaze, Pedro Langley shook the drone in his hand, stood up. He stood tall, the drone flipped, fingers tapping the silver ginkgo leaf engraved on the ground, his tone slow and leisurely, "Confirmed it." Nora Scott looked at him in astonishment, then at the ginkgo mark on the drone, immediately recalling the Mechanical Box given to Clement Winter — it was her hand-crafted gift, and was also engraved with a ginkgo mark. She could previously deny all those tests, but now with evidence delivered straight to the person, denial was impossible. She gave in, "You’re even keeping tabs on raffle prizes?" "Uh-huh, unforgettable." Pedro Langley curled his lips. "Your tail’s going to curl up." Nora Scott chuckled, squeezing the hand warmer with her right hand, looking radiant, "How about I reward your sharp eyesight with a set of autograph books?" Pablo Langley wasn’t the first to figure out she was Zero; for example, Antonio Easton, her senior, and White, whom she’d met face-to-face. Nora Scott didn’t mind being known. The reason for not announcing it proactively was to avoid unnecessary trouble. Not discussing her status as an eighteenth-tier minor celebrity without work to back her, just the fact that she mingled in the Martial World and was revealed to be a comic artist spending days drawing... Where would her pride go? With what would she suppress people then? Relying on comics less sturdy than bricks? But if discovered, she wouldn’t flinch. Pedro Langley acted coy, saying, "That’d be too embarrassing." She gave him a glare, then turned away. Pedro Langley followed closely, "Every book must be signed." "And draw a picture." Nora Scott finally couldn’t stand it, turned back, gritting her teeth, "Are you looking for trouble?" "Reward my sharp eyesight." Pedro Langley ignored her threat, smiling, vibrant and handsome, using her words to corner her. The bay window was pushed open, the north wind wrapped with snowflakes leaked in, carrying a fresh, crisp scent, dispelling the indoor stuffiness. The thick book placed on the bay window was opened a few pages, revealing lines of densely packed black and red interwoven text, the red font neat and small, the handwriting tidy, filling the gaps throughout the page. — All notes. Marcus Shaw backed away, glanced sidelong at the book, just about to pick it up, when he heard a faint vibration from the phone on the quilt. He walked over, picked up the phone to see a transfer notification. Meanwhile, a WeChat message came in. [Boss Alex]: Software testing is fine, final payment made. [Boss Alex]: Still taking other gigs? Marcus Shaw lowered his gaze, the thin eyelids blocking his eyes, yet unable to conceal the slight glimmer in them. [Boss Alex]: Alright, looking forward to working together again. Exiting WeChat, Marcus Shaw glanced at the remaining balance information, transferring the money to a certain account. Message: Last payment. Debt-free and unburdened, even for Marcus Shaw, the transfer brought a silent sigh of relief. Evelyn Easton’s illness was detected last year, after months of treatment, what little savings remained were all spent. Evelyn Easton stubbornly refused to sell the house, or Mr. Shaw’s legacy, as obstinate as an ox, getting angry whenever mentioned, even toward the end wanting to leave him more options. But treatment couldn’t be neglected, so Marcus Shaw had to find other ways, borrowing money from friends. Though Evelyn Easton still passed, borrowed money must be repaid. Thankfully, possessing a skill, Marcus Shaw took several projects through contacts, spending over half a year gradually paying back the debt. Another WeChat message popped up. [SJY]: You sure make money fast, didn’t you rob a bank?