CHAPTER 498: CHAPTER 498: FUNCTIONAL RED WINE

A dark green Bentley car was parked outside the teaching building after nine o’clock in the evening.

The rain was light, falling on the car’s windshield like grains of sugar.

Phoebe King sat in the car, looking at her phone, playing a game of Landlord.

The dismissal bell rang, and the once quiet teaching building suddenly became noisy, with a crowd pouring out.

Phoebe King opened the car door and got out, glancing at her cards while looking for Stephen Sutton in the crowd.

She texted him saying she was here to pick him up, but he hadn’t replied, and she didn’t know if he had seen the message.

With a good hand and having snatched the role of Landlord, Phoebe felt she was one step closer to the finals championship.

Stephen Sutton emerged from the teaching building with his textbooks, spotting the dark green sedan parked by the roadside at a glance.

Phoebe King looked down at her phone, the screen casting a pale glow on her face.

Who knows what she’s so engrossed in, it hardly looks like she’s specifically here to pick him up, clearly just bored and passing time.

Stephen Sutton walked up to her, glancing at the game she was playing on her phone, and couldn’t help but tease, "Are you that bored, starting to play Landlord?"

Startled by the voice from behind her, Phoebe handed her phone to Stephen and asked, "How should I play these cards?"

Stephen glanced at the cards, "Are there any twos left outside?"

Phoebe thought for a moment, looking slightly upward, "Seems like there’s none left? Maybe there’s still one? My memory counter expired, and I didn’t keep track."

Stephen said, "With your memory, should you really be playing Landlord?"

Phoebe replied, "Hurry up, the countdown has started."

Stephen said, "Depends if you want to gamble big or play it safe. For safe, go with four with two, but if playing single and they have twos left, you’ll probably lose."

Phoebe murmured, "Such a shame not to use a bomb with four and two..."

So she played a single card.

Stephen didn’t bother watching the rest of her game, took the car key from her, opened the car door, and got in.

Within seconds, Phoebe’s frustrated yell was heard, "Ah! They still had a two! I should’ve gone with four and two!"

Stephen rolled down the window and casually commented, "If they play two, you could bomb it."

Phoebe said, "What if they have a bomb too?"

Stephen replied, "Well, whose fault if you don’t remember your own cards?"

Phoebe, in a fit of defiance, threw out her bomb.

As soon as her four tens hit the table, the next player pressured her with four queens, followed by a series of three planes, emptying their hand.

Phoebe glared resentfully at Stephen, "Now look, all your fault! You made a mess of my good hand!"

Stephen said, "If you lose, just start another game. It’s no big deal, hurry up and get in the car."

Phoebe protested, "What do you mean by losing and starting another? This was the finals! I played for days to get into the finals! If I’d won just now, I would have gotten a five-coin reward!"

Stephen said, "Five coins? Can you even buy a soda with that?"

Phoebe retorted, "What do you know, it’s not about the money! It’s the honor of an esports player, an immensely prestigious symbol of glory!"

Stephen found her words familiar, something Six at home had mentioned before.

He didn’t have time to mess around with her and coldly urged, "Are you getting in the car or not?"

Phoebe put away her phone, glanced at him sitting in the driver’s seat, and frowned, "Why are you sitting there? Move over, I’ll drive."

Without arguing, Stephen unbuckled his seat belt, stretched his long legs, and slid onto the passenger seat.

He trusted Phoebe’s driving skills, but she’d drive wildly when alone, though much more tame since he’d commented on it.

"Teacher Sutton, are you hungry? Want to grab some late-night snacks?"

Stephen Sutton replied, without lifting his head, "Why go out to eat late-night snacks in the rain?"

Phoebe suggested, "We’re married today, shouldn’t we celebrate a bit? How about I order some takeout, and we have a few drinks at home?"

Stephen didn’t respond, but silently agreed with Phoebe’s proposal, especially since he was free from classes tomorrow morning and could keep her company tonight.

Phoebe said, "Luc just sent me a bottle of red wine this afternoon, he claims it’s special function wine that’s supposed to be really good for the body."

Stephen replied absentmindedly, looking at his phone, "Hmm."

Once they got home, Stephen headed to the bathroom for a shower while Phoebe sprawled on the sofa and ordered some takeout.

After a short while, Stephen came out of the room, changed into pajamas, towel-drying his hair, and asked her, "What did you order?"

Phoebe sat up from the couch with a smile, "Lobster skewers with red wine, everything you want in your heart will have."

Listening to her nonsensical jingles, Stephen frowned, "Go take a shower."

Obedient, Phoebe got up, handed him her phone, "The delivery might call later, can you answer it?"

Stephen nodded, sat on the couch, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV to a news channel, where they were replaying the day’s news.

The rain intensified outside, and hearing the sound, Stephen got up to close the balcony window.

Looking up at the clothes hanging on the balcony, they seemed just pulled from the washing machine, barely shaken, crumpled, some sleeves even left inside out.

Sighing softly, he comforted himself inwardly, knowing she wasn’t meticulous, but it was good enough she attempted to do things.

He could sense she was sincerely trying to learn many new things she had never touched before, putting effort into becoming an ideal dutiful wife.

But evidently, she wasn’t suited for the role.

Her lovingly prepared bentos were either too salty or bland, or even burnt; her organization lacked categorization, sometimes even she couldn’t find what she herself misplaced; just days ago she accidentally ruined a brand-new shirt he bought while ironing, secretly went and bought another but got the wrong size, it couldn’t fit him at all...

Such things occurred frequently, and he gradually got used to them, never blaming her, just silently fixing her mistakes.

Since Phoebe moved in, there was quite a noticeable change at home.

When he lived alone, he didn’t have much stuff; whether tables or cabinets, everything felt empty.

Now, the table was covered with fruits, snacks, and Phoebe’s skincare products, nearly half a table full with bottles and jars.

Her things often left where she used them, searching all over when needed again.

She bought several plants while shopping; remembering them occasionally to water them resulted in two dead ones.

Today she even suggested getting a cat, which he firmly rejected.

Seeing how Four’s litter of cats at home was already enough trouble, he didn’t want to cover the house in fur here too.