Chapter 71: Clara Whitmore Carried a Paper Bag

Clara Whitmore carried a paper bag as she walked alongside Connor Hayes through Ashford University's campus.

Beneath the shade of sycamore trees, they strolled and chatted. Whether she brought up literature or art, Connor always had insightful responses. His voice was warm, his words refined—like a gentle spring breeze.

As they turned past the academic building, Clara glimpsed a tall figure in her periphery.

Elias Mercer emerged from the lecture hall with teaching materials in his arms. He looked up and met Clara's bright gaze. His steps faltered slightly as his eyes swept over Connor beside her.

"What a coincidence," Clara waved with a smile. "Just finished class?"

"Yes," Elias nodded. "Heading to the lab." His gaze lingered on Connor.

Clara quickly introduced them. "This is Connor Hayes." Then to Connor, "This is Professor Elias Mercer."

The two men locked eyes. Connor's lips curved slightly as he extended his hand. "I've heard much about you, Professor Mercer."

Elias shook his hand. "Likewise."

The air seemed to freeze. Clara studied their clasped hands, puzzled by how long the handshake lasted.

Finally, Elias released first. "Excuse me." He gave Clara a nod before walking away.

Connor watched his retreating figure. "You two are close?"

"Just friends," Clara replied casually.

That night, her phone screen lit up.

Connor's message appeared: Thanks for being my guide today.

She typed back: No problem.

Switching off her phone, she sank into the fluffy bedding. Wrapped in the scent of sunshine, she soon drifted into dreams.

The next morning, Clara woke naturally to birds chirping outside. She stretched lazily.

The old neighborhood buzzed with life. Downstairs, Mrs. Walker walked her poodle and beamed at Clara. "You look radiant today, dear."

"Morning, Auntie," Clara smiled in return.

Two blocks away, steam rose from the entrance of a beloved breakfast diner. Pushing the door open, she spotted a familiar figure inside.

Tiptoeing closer, Clara suddenly tapped Elias's shoulder and swiftly slid into the seat across from him.

"Why aren't you even surprised?" she grumbled.

Elias sipped his soy milk leisurely. "You ambushed me the same way last Wednesday." He glanced at the golden retriever lounging by the door. "You're slower than Erbai."

Clara: "..."

"Here comes our girl!" The silver-haired proprietress greeted warmly. "The usual?"

"Yes, plus an extra side dish," Clara winked.

Soon, a bowl of steaming wontons arrived—translucent skins cradling pinkish minced pork, bobbing in rich bone broth. She blew on a spoonful, then noticed Elias's unchanging order of soy milk and fried dough sticks.

"Want to try these?" She pushed two wontons toward him.

After a brief hesitation, Elias picked one up and tasted it.

"Good?" Clara's eyes sparkled.

"Not bad."

She lifted her chin triumphantly. "My recommendations never miss."