Montague, who had copied, cut, and assembled the blueprints Nora Scott sent yesterday to scale, couldn’t resist the oncoming fatigue and drowsiness. He took off his glasses and lay down on the table. After just a few minutes, he heard Eduardo’s excited shout. "Comrade Montague, don’t sleep yet. Another blueprint from our senior came in!" This exclamation not only woke the drowsy Montague but also caught the attention of the recently arrived Professor Tavares. Climbing back up, Montague reached for his glasses and put them back on. Eduardo nodded vigorously, "Yes. This time it’s another ’one-third’." "Did she send it to you privately?" Professor Tavares, who hadn’t received any notifications in the group chat, walked over frowning in confusion as he browsed his phone. Among all the experts, the two had some fondness for Professor Tavares. Seeing his proactive inquiry, they didn’t hide it. He was just about to ask whether to send the blueprints to Professor Tavares when he saw the professor reach out his hand intently. "Let me take a look." Eduardo didn’t hesitate and handed over his phone. However, as Professor Tavares focused intently, he and Montague crowded together, using Montague’s phone to study the blueprints. The main content of this project was also divided into three parts, with the center being the stamen and the outer petals being two parts. Yesterday, Nora Scott sent the stamen, which they’d mostly already studied, so her blueprints didn’t surprise them. Even Professor Tavares was startled, drawing in a cold breath. Montague and Eduardo were no exception, almost kneeling on the spot. In this part, they encountered numerous challenges, one after another, continuously. The most direct proof of this was that the experts’ hair was visibly thinning. However, Nora Scott’s blueprint effortlessly clarified all the difficulties they faced, especially the solutions which were astonishingly clever, compelling them to admire her professional foundation and imaginative prowess. The whole time the onlookers were thinking: Damn, there’s such a method?! Professor Tavares was so amazed he couldn’t speak. Eduardo and Montague looked over when they heard this. At this moment, Professor Tavares was visibly agitated, his lips trembling, eyes wide open, every movement and subtle expression revealing surprise and admiration. The two exchanged a glance, amused internally. Pattering Montague on the shoulder, Eduardo deliberately asked Professor Tavares, "Professor, what do you think?" Professor Tavares couldn’t care less about analyzing it; he handed back the phone and eagerly said, "Send me the images, I’ll gather them for a meeting." On this day, with just the second set of blueprints, Nora Scott made Professor Tavares and a group of experts speechless. The experts, who were full of doubt about Nora Scott’s abilities yesterday, today printed out her blueprints, gathered around them, and discussed them the entire day, to their astonishment— They couldn’t find any flaws! "Were we too impulsive yesterday?" "What on earth is this girl’s background, could she be a hidden master’s apprentice?" "She definitely doesn’t seem like someone school-taught. I’ve heard there are some ancient mechanical technique families that are in decline and hard to find, but they definitely still exist. I wonder if she’s one of them." "Boss Scott’s grandfather... isn’t Aaron Scott, Old Master Scott, supposed to have studied ancient mechanism techniques?" "Is Nora Scott related to Ethan Scott, are they family?" "Then this girl is something else, surpassing her predecessors!" The experts’ discussion centered around one burning question: Who exactly is Nora Scott? As for Montague and Eduardo, they weren’t thinking that much. Aside from focusing on their model tasks, they tried their best to identify any mysteries they couldn’t understand in the blueprints, then seize the opportunity to consult Nora Scott about them. Early in the morning, Nora Scott was still cuddling in her cozy and warm bed, only to be woken by the noisy sounds from the yard. "Michael, did you write it this year, or was it Old Master Quinn?" "It looks exactly the same, I really can’t tell." "Michael, I’m here to get our family’s spring couplets! Thank you very much!" "Sir Easton’s family needs to post couplets, right? I’ll give you some glue." "Isn’t this Sir Easton’s grandson? Oh my, such a handsome young man." Without a soundproof wall, the soundproofing was terrible. Finally, Nora Scott couldn’t take it anymore, kicked off the blanket, and sat up in bed. Slipping on her slippers, Nora Scott walked directly to the window, pulled back the curtain, and then opened a window. The cold wind rushed in all at once, instantly waking her up, clearing her mind. She turned slightly, avoiding the draft, and raised her gaze, letting it fall into the courtyard. In the courtyard, there was a redwood Eight Immortals table, its surface filled with festive red Spring Festival couplets, a thick stack of "Fu" characters, and the four treasures of the study essential for writing couplets. Neighbors came and went, greeting each other, asking for couplets, giving something in return or expressing thanks, chatting a bit, and then leaving. Michael Quinn stood nearby all along. Nora Scott knocked on the window, drawing Michael’s attention. Michael turned around, saw her standing by the window, his eyebrows and eyes lightened with joy, and he immediately walked over, "Just woke up?" Her expression was tired, and Nora Scott didn’t hide her irritation or displeasure at all. Early in the morning, running to her courtyard to hand out couplets, weren’t they deliberately disturbing her peaceful dreams? Besides, Easton needed to rest, too. Follow current novels on 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁 "I have Sir Easton’s approval for this," Michael smiled warmly, "Your place is convenient for people to come and go." "And it’s too quiet with just a few of you, just bringing some liveliness to your home." "As if your family has more people?" Nora asked speechlessly. Michael let out an "ah," specially counted the numbers, and dropped his head a bit annoyed. "It really is, just three." Michael lamented, then quickly changed the topic, boasting, "But our place is lively, at times like these, people come to visit Old Quinn, one group after another, there’s never a free moment at home." Rolling her eyes at him, Nora slammed the window shut, completely shutting Michael out. Michael said, "Hey——" and knocked on the window, wanting to say something to Nora, but she had already turned and left, ignoring him. Michael had no choice but to give up. About ten minutes later, freshly washed and dressed in a coat, Nora opened the living room door and stepped into the cold courtyard. Seeing her, the idle Michael who was snacking on sunflower seeds quickly greeted her, "The couplets at your front door were written as you said, and Marcus Shaw has put them up. Want to take a look?" Sure enough, at the entrance of the courtyard, the couplets were neatly pasted on both sides, bright red, with the upside-down "Fu" well placed. Marcus Shaw did a reliable job; symmetrical and tidy, there wasn’t a single flaw to pick on. Just the handwriting... Squinting her eyes, Nora suddenly looked toward the courtyard and called, "Michael." Michael hopped twice and jumped out of the door, stopping beside her. Pointing her chin at the couplets, Nora raised an eyebrow, "What’s up with the handwriting?" "Did you write it while half-asleep?" Nora asked mockingly. Michael scratched his head, discontentedly retorting, "How is that possible." "Then explain your current level." Nora said faintly. To others, it didn’t look any different; they felt his writing was as good as always, but Nora had known Michael for years, had seen countless of his works, and she knew his level well. He was someone with divine talent. His calligraphy skills were always stable, never showing any signs of "decline in quality." "It’s just slightly, slipped, a little... maybe." Michael said hesitantly, under Nora’s gaze, his voice getting weaker and weaker. "A little?" Nora squinted her eyes, staring at him skeptically, her voice slightly dragging the tone, "Little prodigy, has there ever been ’a slight decline in skill level’ in your world?" Feeling guilty under her questioning, Michael waved his hand and said outright, "Well, after writing so much, I just took it easy." "Taking it easy at Sir Easton’s house?" Nora asked, even she didn’t believe it herself. Michael had a good relationship with Antonio Easton since childhood; he might handle others differently, but at Antonio Easton’s place, he would never "be perfunctory." Michael drooped his brows and eyes, honestly, properly, and guiltily admitting his mistake. Then, he asked, "How about, giving me a chance to rewrite them?" Staring at him for a moment, Nora couldn’t figure out any reason, eventually relented, "Forget it." She turned around and walked back into the courtyard. Seeing her back, Michael secretly breathed a sigh of relief in his heart and then followed her inside. Because of that "slight dissatisfaction" with the couplets, Michael worried Nora might really be angry, stayed around her, cracking jokes and saying nice things to cheer her up. Nora sat on the long bench of the Eight Immortals table, her feet on the horizontal bar, peeling the peanuts hand-roasted by Madam Quinn. From the direction of the main door, came Laura Collins’s voice.