Chapter 340: Elias Mercer Was Reviewing Last Week's Experimental Data in the Laboratory

Elias Mercer was reviewing last week's experimental data in the laboratory.

His slender fingers flew across the keyboard until he spotted an anomaly in the second group's fourth column.

Just as he was about to call Felix Moreau over, his phone rang abruptly.

"Hello?"

A familiar voice answered: "Professor, it's Clara."

Elias's fingers froze mid-air.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the computer screen, his voice unconsciously softening: "What is it?"

"My dad wants to invite you for dinner..." Clara's voice carried hesitation, "If you're busy, I can just tell him no."

"Not busy."

There was a noticeable pause on the other end: "...But isn't the lab swamped right now?"

"Manageable."

"Then..."

Elias cut her off: "See you tonight. Thank your father for me."

After hanging up, Clara stared blankly at her phone.

Just yesterday, Elise had complained on social media about pulling all-nighters in the lab.

How did it become "manageable" when he said it?

Back in the lab, Theo Marsh sidled up with a sly grin: "Was that Clara?"

Elias didn't look up: "You already know."

Theo sighed dramatically: "The rest of us look like sleep-deprived pandas, while Professor Mercer remains unflappable. The power of love truly is miraculous."

In reality, Elias hadn't slept in thirty-six hours.

But he said it as casually as commenting on the weather.

Elias took a step back, fixing Theo with an impassive stare: "Where's your data report? Finished the error analysis? Completed the experiment logs? When do you plan to submit them?"

Theo immediately raised his hands in surrender: "My bad, getting back to work now."

Returning to his station, Theo sighed at the sea of data on his screen.

He missed the days when Clara worked in the lab.

Processing data had felt like magic back then.

Now...

Ah, how the mighty have fallen!

* * *

At exactly six in the evening, Elias appeared at the Whitmores' doorstep.

He carried an exquisitely packaged bottle of red wine.

Daniel Whitmore rushed to answer the door, still clutching a spatula: "Elias! You're here!"

"Good evening, sir. Sorry for intruding."

"Nonsense! Come in, come in—"

Helen moved to fetch slippers, only to see Elias smoothly retrieve a pair from the shoe rack.

The practiced ease suggested he'd done this many times before.

"This is for you and Mrs. Whitmore." Elias handed over the wine.

Helen accepted it with a smile: "You shouldn't have brought anything."

"My pleasure."

Her eyes flickered with surprise as she read the label.

Noticing the well-worn slippers on Elias's feet, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly...