Morrison had the phone clamped between his ear and shoulder, freeing both hands to straighten his clothes while casually spinning a tale for Linda.
"This time, don't worry—it's not some random girl. She's a good one."
Honestly, Morrison had zero intention of confessing Lilian's existence to his mother. The only reason he was telling Linda this much was to get her off his back about setting him up on more blind dates.
Linda had always assumed the women he dated were no good. That's why she constantly arranged matchups for him—through aunts, cousins, or her friends. All "well-bred, decent girls," as she'd brag.
But Morrison never had the heart to crush her hopes. After all, whether a girl was "good" wasn't something you decided based on someone else's recommendation—it had to be judged with your own eyes. Under Linda's relentless pressure, he reluctantly went on a few dates. And by his standards, none of them measured up to the "good girl" Linda described.
From then on, he became pretty resistant to her matchmaking schemes. He'd rack his brain to dodge them, even pulling Dave into his little acting charades to avoid going out.
So when he told Linda he was seeing a "good girl," it was really just to soothe her and get her to stop setting him up.
The moment Linda heard that, curiosity lit up her voice.
"Whose daughter is she? Are you thinking about settling down and getting married?"
Just hearing the word "marriage" gave Morrison a headache. Since his good buddy Dave got married a few years ago, Linda had been pushing him to tie the knot. After months of no progress, she gave up... only to start nagging again recently. Rumor had it that many of her friends had recently been promoted to Lady Tiffany or Grandma status, and Linda was starting to panic again.
From Morrison's perspective, he had to admit—it was a bit understandable. All their peers were already becoming grandmothers, living the sweet life with grandkids. And here he was, still without a girlfriend, let alone a wife. If Linda wasn't anxious, that would be stranger.
So sometimes, when Linda's nagging really got on his nerves, he'd remind himself to see things from her point of view. It made the whole thing a little easier to tolerate.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn't met anyone worth willingly walking down the aisle for. He wasn't about to settle, so he figured he might as well stay single and keep enjoying life as it was.
Dodging Linda's persistent questions, he said,
"Alright, alright, whatever questions you have—we'll talk about them later. Gotta go now."
Then he hung up, packed his things, grabbed the gifts he'd bought for his parents, and headed off to the Mo family estate.
Meanwhile, Lilian was sulking on the couch after swapping out the bed sheets and tossing them into the washing machine. That's when she noticed a delicate little box sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Beneath it was a folded note, just like hers had been:
"A gift for you. First time giving one—whether you like it or not, you have to say you do."
Signed with a single character—"Mo"—written in a wild, carefree style that perfectly matched his personality: devilishly charming, handsome, and rugged.
The tone was as bossy as ever, insisting she had to like it whether she wanted to or not.
Lilian, already irritated by him, felt even more convinced that he was completely unreliable.
Still, she opened the box. Inside was a pair of exquisite, delicate earrings—simple yet elegant. They were set with shimmering multicolored gemstones that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight, lively and playful—just right for her age and style.
Girls loved pretty things like these. To her surprise, Lilian found herself unable to put them down, staring at them in her hands. Eventually, she went to the mirror and tried them on, turning her head to catch the light.
She had to admit—his taste was really good. The earrings made her look even more radiant and playful.
Remembering his message—"like it or not, you have to say you like it"—Lilian thought, Well, this time I really do like it. No need to pretend.
She took out her phone, snapped a picture of the earrings, and posted it on Weibo to commemorate the moment:
"A gift, beauty—what should I give in return?"
After posting, she sent Morrison a quick message:
"The earrings are beautiful, thank you."
But liking the gift didn't mean she was going to forgive him just because of it. She was still mad about his bad behavior, no matter what.
As soon as Morrison arrived at the Mo family estate, Linda immediately cornered him, bombarding him with questions about this "good girl." There was no way Morrison was going to admit Lilian existed—he knew if Linda found out, she'd spill everything to Lilian's mother, Tiffany, in no time. That would cause chaos for both families.
Besides, Morrison had zero intention of going public anytime soon. So he danced around Linda's questions like a pro:
"Mom, please stop asking. I'm protecting her for now. When we're serious, I'll introduce her to you."
Linda was desperate.
"Then at least tell me her last name!"
Morrison sighed. In all of Burg Eltz, there weren't many families named Washington. If he said that, it would be the same as revealing Lilian's identity.
He pulled Linda close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder affectionately.
"Linda, pressuring me like this won't work. If you keep it up, I might start keeping secrets from you."
With that warm, gentle approach, he had his mother wrapped around his finger. After that, Linda didn't press him anymore about who the girl was.
After visiting his parents, Morrison slumped into his car and let out a long, relieved sigh. Finally, he was free from the endless cycle of blind dates. Now that his mother knew he had a reliable girlfriend, she probably wouldn't set him up again.
Plus, he'd skillfully managed to keep Lilian under wraps—two birds with one stone.
He pulled out his phone and saw Lilian's thank-you message for the gift. Without hesitation, he dialed her back.
"Just saying 'thanks' in a message? That's not sincere enough. Don't you think you should call me and say it properly?"
Morrison figured the girl was still a bit mad at him—and of course, Lilian was indeed mad. She snorted before replying,
"Why would I call you? I'm still angry! And why did you sleep in my bed without asking me first?"
She wanted to add more—like him rifling through her clothes—but honestly, she was too embarrassed to say it out loud. The guy had zero shame.
"What's wrong with sleeping in your bed? We're going to be sharing it anyway."