When Qin Wenhao heard the familiar voice, his expression immediately soured.
He turned his head and, sure enough, it was that guy Zan Zi.
"You, you and Teacher Fu, you, you two—" Zan Zi’s expression was one of utter shock.
Qin Wenhao was surprised, too.
’Did I just hear that guy Zan Zi call my wife Teacher Fu?’
’How did she become Teacher Fu?’
He looked at his wife, baffled.
Fu Mingxue, for her part, hadn’t known that Qin Wenhao was acquainted with this Zan Zi.
She recognized Zan Zi too—he had asked her two difficult math problems in a row.
Fortunately, she had been able to solve them both.
Besides, she had a photographic memory, and the man had made a point of introducing himself by name.
So, of course, she remembered him.
"I was giving a lecture today. Let’s talk about it when we get home."
Hearing his wife say this, Qin Wenhao suppressed his questions.
He looked back at Zan Zi, who still wore a shocked expression, as if he’d seen a ghost.
He immediately said, "Let me introduce you. This is my wife. Honey, this is Zan Zi. He also lives in the compound."
He didn’t bother with a particularly detailed introduction.
Fu Mingxue nodded to show she understood.
As for Zan Zi, he was still in a state of shock.
He never imagined that when Qin Wenhao came to drop off his wife in the morning—that his wife would turn out to be Fu Mingxue.
His tone immediately turned sour with jealousy. "Qin Wenhao, you’re the luckiest man alive! To think you actually got to marry Teacher Fu."
’Did this guy accumulate a mountain of good karma in his past life?’
’Otherwise, how could he be so lucky in this one?’
Fu Mingxue: ...?
Qin Wenhao: ...? ’What’s he so jealous about?’
He snorted coldly. "Of course I’m lucky. Unlike you—so unlucky you don’t even have a wife."


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