[Wait a minute, was Aunt Joan actually angry just now?!]
Up to this point, Joan Morrow’s emotional responses had always been flat, hollow, almost robotic. But Jill Young noticed something keenly—just then, Aunt Joan had definitely lost her temper at Kensington L. Orland. Though her anger was masked by that cold, distant exterior, for Joan herself, it was a significant shift.
Jill knew that Joan Morrow was finally pulling herself out of that emotionless, void-like trance.
No one really knew what had made Aunt Joan so weirdly detached in the first place, but it was clear that a Joan with actual feelings was way more human—less like some abstract holy spirit, more like a real person.
Still, even though this breakthrough happened, the reason behind it left Jill deep in thought. Why did Joan Morrow get mad just because Kensington L. Orland wasted her time? Jill suspected there was something big lurking in that little detail.
The memory rolled on: The next day, Joan Morrow showed up for fourth-grade classes without a second thought, and just happened to land in the same class as her roommate—the one who looked down on everyone and everything. The moment she heard Joan had skipped a grade, that roommate launched into her usual routine: shock → denial → mockery → snark. Joan ignored her completely, and Jill Young, who was right there, did the same.
She was deep in thought.
After reflecting, Jill Young noticed something strange: In these memories, Joan Morrow treated 'studying' like a life-or-death race against time. Like a senior about to take the college entrance exam, convinced it was her one shot to change her fate. Everything except maximum-efficiency studying seemed totally pointless.
But this study pace—way more intense than any overachiever—didn’t come from burning passion or gritted-teeth determination. Most of the time, Joan Morrow was still cold and detached, totally unfazed by anything. Her obsessive learning seemed to spring from some deep-rooted instinct—pure, unmotivated, relentless study for its own sake.
This kind of pure, absolute drive was totally unnatural. Normal people act out of their own needs, with some kind of internal motivation. Even if you’re born loving to learn, at least you’d get a little joy out of it, right? But Aunt Joan—nothing. Not even a hint.
If you can't see any reason, it just means you haven't found the real cause yet. Jill's mind raced, filtering through Aunt Joan's memories again and again, but she still couldn't find any inevitable logic behind this pure, relentless studying.
While Jill was mulling this over, the memory version of young Joan Morrow was already in full unstoppable bulldozer mode. The fourth-grade prodigies, all sorts from everywhere, suffered major confidence meltdowns in no time. Joan didn't provoke or stir up trouble—she just kept moving forward, minding her own business. Yet these golden children from around the world were scattered like bowling pins.
This relentless studying just kept going, like a pre-programmed routine—no breaks, no hesitation, and apparently nothing in the universe could distract her.
But there are always exceptions.
The endless sea of knowledge should've been as dull and flat as a textbook, but one day, a certain someone arrived and stirred up the waters.
That someone was Adam Zade.
It was Joan Morrow's third month at Cambridge when Adam Zade showed up again. He rolled in with a fancy car, dressed sharp, flashing a dazzling smile, and carrying a bouquet of vibrant flowers. The moment he appeared, the eyes of every studious girl in this ancient university lit up like disco balls.
Adam was the kind of guy who could make most women blush and their hearts race.
"Hey~" Adam found Joan reading in the woods by the river, handed her the flowers, and flashed a sunshine-bright grin: "So here you are! Took me ages to find you. How's life in Britannia? I'm in London today, so I thought I'd drop by. Look, picked these just for you. Like them?"
Honestly, at the peak of his youth, Adam Zade was pretty much impossible for any woman to ignore. Especially when he flashed that bashful, slightly awkward smile of his.
But young Joan Morrow seemed totally immune to all that.
"Drop the junk. You, come over here." Joan glanced at him and cut straight to the chase: "You said you’ve dabbled in economics, right? I’ll give you two minutes to look at this financial case—tell me what you think."
"Junk? I spent all morning picking those out! Sigh, whatever, looks like you’re doing fine. You haven’t changed a bit—still totally un-cute." Adam Zade let out a defeated sigh, then perked up and scooted closer: "Economics, huh? Now that’s my specialty. Let me see what kind of case has you stumped."
"I just don’t get it," Joan looked genuinely puzzled, her brows furrowed: "Why would the chairman of this company agree to a stock bet in that situation?"
Adam Zade glanced down, nodded knowingly: "Ah, that case—classic stuff. It’s less finance and more psychology, honestly. Because his opponent played him using human nature." Adam looked up, his gaze meaningful as he met Joan’s eyes: "If you want to understand why, you have to understand people’s hearts."
"People’s hearts?" Joan, unusually, frowned: "Guess I need to study psychology next."
"No, no, no—psychology is one thing, but your real problem isn’t in the books. You don’t need fancy jargon, you need to understand real, actual hearts. Human hearts." Adam gazed into Joan’s clear eyes, his own look deep and thoughtful: "The heart is the most complicated and the simplest, the kindest and the most wicked. I envy you, you know—having such pure, crystal-clear objectivity. But if you really want to understand this world, the human heart is a barrier you just can’t avoid."
This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page to keep reading the good stuff!
"Got it." Joan nodded seriously, then asked, "So how do I understand the human heart?"
"Well... okay, here’s an example: start by—taking this bouquet." Adam held out the flowers again, gently offering them to Joan, his tone soft and eyes warm: "These flowers, practically speaking, aren’t useful for much. But they carry a value that goes way beyond material things."
"Value?"
"Yep, value. The kind that goes way beyond practical use. Owning it makes you happier than owning a bank—or in your case, happier than owning a library. Losing it hurts more than losing your favorite books. Once you get that, you're starting to understand the human heart."
Joan snapped her book shut, reached out, and took the bouquet. It should've been a moment to envy, but her eyes were full of caution, like she was facing a major academic challenge. Adam's words made her treat the bouquet like a rare scientific specimen—studying it up and down as if she could discover its 'value' that way.
"Sigh, alright, looks like this really is a tough lesson for you. Fine, let me help you out." Adam put on a serious face: "Find a vase, keep these flowers alive, and I'll teach you about people’s hearts. Deal?"
"Deal." Joan touched a petal, then spun around and left without warning—no hesitation, just gone.
"Hey, where are you going?" Adam was baffled again—actually, he’d never really understood her.
"To check plant care manuals," Joan replied coolly. "I need to learn about this flower’s habits, characteristics, climate preferences, and water requirements."
Smack—a facepalm sounded behind Joan. That rich kid looked absolutely defeated by her reaction. But he didn’t realize that from Joan’s cautious perspective, that bouquet wasn’t just black and white.
At the edge of her vision, that annoying roommate was lurking in the hallway, glaring daggers this way, clearly not happy. Joan didn’t care, but Jill Young’s sharp eyes caught the drama.
[That little brat’s eyes were blazing with jealousy—looks like this isn’t over. There’s more to come!]
From that day on, Joan finally had something she could 'waste time' on. She brought the bouquet back to her dorm, found a vase, and took care of it—observing its growth, mixing plant food, wiping leaves, tending every twig and stem. Every detail was handled with scientific precision. It was a total time drain, but since she’d made it a project, she gave it her full research spirit.
As for Adam Zade, who knows what was going on in his family, but he started dropping by all the time. At first it was once or twice a week, then every couple of days, and soon he was popping up so often it felt like he lived there.
Joan was still a non-stop academic machine, rain or shine at the library, unstoppable. Adam tried every trick—sweet talk, playful teasing—but nothing worked. She wouldn’t waste a second on him. Two months later, Adam finally switched tactics. After some deep analysis, he had an epiphany and started playing the long game.
He racked his brains for topics that sounded meaningful and important, luring Joan out with things like 'understanding human history and culture,' 'studying how environments affect psychology,' and 'analyzing how modern art reflects society.' She didn’t resist at all—Adam had her skipping class in no time.