What to do if you encounter a madman in another world (Part 31)
Different world, fictional background!
The characters and worldview are privately designed and have nothing to do with real history.
The male and female protagonists are not biological children
Emma ran to the back garden to play while you were not paying attention. You were afraid that she would catch a cold in the hot and cold weather, so you quickly picked her up and wrapped her in a cashmere shawl.
The fallen leaves of the plane trees flutter in the autumn wind, reminding us that time passes and cannot be retained. Autumn brings melancholy, and you feel emotional, watching the falling leaves rustle in the courtyard for a while.
The wind bends the leaves, and they swirl around, carrying thoughts of longing over the high fence, just like Lai uses leaves as a boat, riding on the yellowed sycamore leaves to come to you.
You frowned and said, "Emma, you have a brother named Lai, Leo. You must remember him and never forget him, okay?"
Emma tilted her head and stared at you, pouting a few words with her little mouth.
She grew up very fast, especially the blue in her eyes, which became deeper and deeper. It was not a transparent blue, but a textured chlorine blue. If you looked closely, it looked like thin and smooth blue silk, full of life and vigor.
The complete opposite of Len's eyes.
But due to the influence of genes, you still feel that Lai is looking at you through her eyes.
You collected your thoughts, kissed Emma gently, and were about to carry her back to her room when you heard the sound of a Mercedes-Benz stopping and the guards saluting respectfully.
You returned to the living room and sure enough, it was Feints who had returned.
"Yina, does your head still hurt recently?"
He called out softly, as if afraid of scaring you, and the look he gave you was so warm and earnest, all the longing he had for you after not seeing each other for half a month was written on the blue wave surface, making it clear at a glance.
You deliberately avoid him, lowering your eyelids. Emma is in your arms, stretching her arms toward Fiennes. Not wanting to deprive the child of the right to be close to her father, you walk over, hand Emma to him, and drape the shawl over the back of the sofa.
"Daddy's little Emma, how are you with Mom at home lately? Is Mom still mad at Dad? Have you had a good talk with Mom on Dad's behalf?"
Fiennes took off his military coat and hung it on the hanger at the door, supported Emma with his arms, and took off his gloves. You naturally took them and put them away for him.
"No...no, Mom, no, Emma, laugh..."
Emma wanted to express that her mother was unhappy and she was trying to make her mother laugh.
"Really? My little darling, you've worked so hard. You're really daddy's good daughter." He held Emma in one hand and nudged her nose. "Daddy and Mommy have something else to do. Emma, can you go find Aunt Mandy first?"
Emma nodded obediently, and as soon as Fiennes put her on the carpet, she ran to the kitchen.
"There's nothing much to say..."
You were halfway through your words when you saw his face gradually showing signs of fear. The experience of being taught a lesson in the past came to your mind again, and with it the momentum of trying to have an equal dialogue with him faded. You reluctantly added a sentence and then fell silent.
“Brother…Brother…”
"Yina, it's been so long since I came back, and I just remembered what to call you?"
His emotions come and go quickly, and a simple title can easily change his mood.
In the blink of an eye, the coldness on his face disappeared. He walked over, let down your hair that was tied low on the side and looped, and held the rubber band in his hand.
"You didn't even tell me that the ends of your hair are fading. If brother doesn't come back, do you still want to keep your hair in a bun like this for a few days?"
Who let him control...
You bit your lip and snatched the rubber band from his hand, pulling it with your fingers to form a firm figure eight shape. Like a little girl who had done something wrong, you didn't dare to refute him out loud, and you put your hair up again in a huff.
Seeing your reaction, he sighed and raised his hand to touch your face. "Still upset? La Rochelle applied for a permit from the visa office. I've had two issued. They'll probably be leaving Paris soon."
ah……
Haven't the Duke and Duchess of La Rochelle left yet? You went to the Duke's residence two weeks ago, and they were clearly already packing their belongings...
"The Duchess is ill and has been delayed."
He picked up the two bottles of hair dye in a bag on the coffee table, saw your confusion, and while explaining to you, he put his arm around your shoulders and led you up the stairs.
The last time you saw the Duchess, she looked worn out and worn out. It turned out she was ill.
Even if they haven't fully recovered yet, they're probably well enough, otherwise the Duke of La Rochelle wouldn't have chosen to leave so soon. May God bless them and keep them safe.
…
Although the hair dyeing process is not complicated, it is time-consuming.
Feintz wraps your hair, which has been dyed with light blonde dye, in a transparent film, then uses his feet to hook a chair and sit across from you, legs spread apart, hands resting on knees, slightly parted. Because he's not very skilled, his hands are stained with dye.
He just stared at you, silent. You sat in the chair, hugging your legs, head lowered, and remained silent. The two of them seemed to be in a silent confrontation, determined to determine who was the better of them. The bathroom fell into an eerie silence.
Time passed slowly, a long time passing. A minute seemed like an hour, an hour felt like an eternity. Just as you were letting yourself go, letting your thoughts drift freely, you finally heard the first voice of surrender.
"Yina, there's still a bottle and a half of hair dye left, which should be enough for three or four uses. When it's almost finished, remember to remind your brother so I can prepare it."
You tilted your head, rested your left cheek on your knee, and asked mechanically, "Will there be more after I use it up?"
"Before Karl Klauch of Farben became successful, he was a good friend of my mother's. It's easy to ask him for a bottle of hair dye. At the very least, my father has a good relationship with Admiral Redder, so he always has some leverage."
"Yina, don't worry, I have you all."
With a little effort, he carried you to the sink, both himself and the stool. He removed the transparent film, adjusted the water temperature of the shower to a suitable temperature, rinsed off the residue on your hair, and blew your hair dry. He stood behind you as usual and gently combed your hair.
"Brother isn't forbidding you from going to Geneva... There have been quite a few officers' families going there recently, so you need to stay out of the spotlight for a while. Father's rotation should be coming soon, and he really wants to see you and Emma..."
Feynz placed his right hand, holding the comb, on the back of the high chair, and with his other hand, gripped the armrest. He lowered his head and moved his lips closer to hers. As his breathing became heavier, he gradually deepened the kiss. Only when tears began to fall did he wake up from his confusion.
"Ina..."
His voice was full of pity and his eyes were full of heartache.
You pushed him away, got up from the chair, and wanted to go downstairs to see Emma, but as soon as you opened the door, Emma was standing at the door with her eyes wide open and her neck stretched, as if she had been caught doing something bad.
"Emma, what are you doing?"
You wiped away your tears, forced a smile, and then picked up Emma.
"Mom," Emma hugged your neck, looked behind you, saw Dad winking at her, and babbled again, the last sound being a little difficult to pronounce: "Dad, go to sleep, one, one..."
"Together, Emma wants to sleep with Mom and Dad tonight, right?"
Fiennes took up the conversation, nodded encouragingly to Emma, and then took her in his arms. Emma, receiving her father's praise, blinked her eyes vigorously and grinned.
He held Emma and moved closer to you, holding her little hand as he asked you, "Does Mom agree?"
"Mom, Mom, Dad, let's go to bed together."
Emma looked at you flatteringly. You really couldn't refuse any request of this lost and found child, so you had to agree to their request. The father and daughter then looked at each other and smiled, which seemed to mean that their "conspiracy" had succeeded.
That evening, Feinz sat on the edge of his bed, took a sip of his brandy and water, and put the glass on the bedside table.
Before you noticed, Emma crawled out from under the quilt, climbed up his back, climbed all the way to his shoulders, and then spread her little feet apart and rode on Feynman's neck.
You were so scared that you quickly jumped out of bed, "Emma, you can't do this, it's dangerous!"
"Ina, it's nothing."
Fiennes raised his hand and held Emma's arm, stood up, walked back and forth in the bedroom, and played with Emma a few times.
"My little Emma, have you had enough fun? We need to go to bed. Daddy has to get up early to go to work tomorrow."
"Tell. Stories…"
You lay together in bed, with Emma between you. He had wanted to ask you for the Children's Story Collection, but as you would not allow him to tell her a story from it, Fiennes had to rely on his memory and give her a rough account of the contents of an opera he had seen in his childhood.
Although he tried to slow down his voice as much as possible, it still sounded a bit serious and his tone was too flat.
"...Hansel and Gretel walked into a candy house. The candy house was magical. If you were hungry, you could take a piece of candy and eat it..."
"Hmph, Mom, tell me!"
Emma didn't like her father's dull tone, so she turned sideways and curled up in your arms. You tucked the quilt into her and thought to yourself, this little girl only remembers her mother's kindness now.
"But who would have thought that this is the home of a witch. Brother Hansel has been locked in a cage by the witch. Sister Gretel racks her brains to rescue her brother..."
When you told the story, your voice was like singing, your speech sometimes slow, sometimes fast, becoming more and more beautiful as you spoke, and it made people feel indescribably comfortable. The two children, both old and young, were intoxicated by the sound and gradually fell asleep.
The fire in the fireplace was burning, and the firewood made a few thin cries as it was devoured by the flames.
You couldn't sleep anyway, so you simply got up, picked up the remaining brandy he had on the bedside table, drank it all in one gulp, and went downstairs.
…
The fire in the fireplace had just been lit, and you fell asleep on the table, with an opened bottle of Courvoisier cognac and an empty glass next to you.
Mandy was tiptoeing to cover you with a blanket when the phone in the living room rang.
You shivered unconsciously, and sat up straight in a daze, only to feel your arms go numb and painful, and you hissed in discomfort, and the blanket on your body slipped off.
"Mandy, who's calling?"
"Ma'am, this is headquarters. Mr.'s secretary asked Commander Modi to deliver a document that he left at home."
【Zizizi... (electrical sound)】
Mandy came over and sat next to you, massaging your shoulders. Even though the cognac was mixed with water, you drank too much, and the pain from the hangover was giving you a splitting headache.
"Madam, please don't sleep in this living room next time. I didn't light the fire. It's so cold these days. You'll catch a cold. If you get sick, you'll be the only one who suffers."
You smiled at the kind maid and said lightly, "Thank you, Mandy. I've been craving cognac lately, but I won't next time."
You went to the study and found the document, but it was in a cowhide bag and sealed with wax. You didn't have the restoration tools and couldn't view it.
The system's electrical current sound seems to be reminding you that you have been suppressed for a long time and it is time to go to the command center to inquire about the information.
You washed up, returned to the bedroom, sat in front of the dressing table and tidied yourself up, changed into a white woolen sweater, put on a gray-blue long windbreaker, and habitually put on the rose necklace in the jewelry box.
You held the rose in your hand, looked down at it for a moment, then put the necklace in your collar and wore it close to your body.
When you arrived at the headquarters, you handed the documents to the secretary, but Feintz seemed to have gone to the headquarters. You sat in his office for a while, but because the secretary was with you this time, you couldn't look through the documents to collect intelligence.
When you were about to leave, you saw a book on the table. It had a red cover, which was quite conspicuous. During the martial law period, few books had bold covers printed in red. Most of them were a conservative yellow.
It lay quietly on the pile of documents, as if waiting to be given by its owner to someone who would cherish it.
You pick it up and see that it is - "Gone with the Wind".
The French version of Gone with the Wind...
Your face felt a little hot, and your heart was touched inadvertently. You held the book tightly in your hands, then hugged it in your arms, took a deep breath and said:
"Don't tell... sir that I was here today. If you ask where the book is, just say that Modi brought it back to me."
"Yes, ma'am."
The secretary nodded calmly. She had bought the book herself from the bookstore on Dupuytren Street, so she naturally knew who Commander von Kármán would give the book to.
You should not interfere in the affairs between a couple. You should give your wife face for such a harmless matter as concealing the whereabouts of the book.
There was a problem with the Mercedes-Benz and Modi was having someone repair it. Your face was getting hotter and hotter and your head was a little dizzy. You didn't want to stay in the steaming hot tub of the command center anymore, so you simply chose to walk home.
For some reason today, there were a lot of bicycles on the road, and there were also many men wearing gabardine windbreakers along the street.
The chaotic yet orderly footsteps are getting closer and closer, and the strange singing is becoming clearer and clearer, as if it is right in front of you.
When you are wondering, a dense group of people come into your sight.
There were many of them, and they marched in a mighty procession. A group of hot-blooded young men in their early twenties were in the front, holding the tricolor flag high in their hands and singing the Marseille, interspersed with various French folk tunes. Some of them were playing instruments such as accordions and clarinets as they walked, and they seemed to be determined to compete with the invaders.
Your head starts to buzz, and the heat surges all over your body. You don’t understand what the system means by reminding you of today’s date.
The wind is howling, the crowd is advancing, and danger is approaching. You need to leave quickly.
Your tired body hinders your steps. A sharp gunshot pierces the bright white sky above Paris, shaking your eardrums and soaring into the sky.
As soon as the gunshots rang out, the entire team immediately became agitated and disorganized, like a snake that had encountered its natural enemy and was twisting its body wildly in an attempt to escape.
The black mass was mixed with blue dots, and the speed was as fast as an ink-stained tsunami.
The unarmed people looked at each other, saw each other's pale faces, and ran for their lives without saying anything.
The sounds of fighting continued, followed by groans and curses. The scene was a scene of utter chaos. The wail of the gravel even drowned out the sirens.
Batons fell like raindrops, countless people bumped into each other, the shadows in front of you kept overlapping and overlapping, and the heat from your body made your steps weak.
The sunlight reflected on the corner of Charity Street, revealing an arc of light, like a holy light appearing, guiding the saints to escape from the chaotic battlefield.
In an instant, the crowd squeezed together towards the narrow road of life, you were swept away by the torrent, and the batons that caught up with you shattered your hope.
Suddenly, someone grabbed your trouser leg. You were startled and looked down. It was a girl about sixteen or seventeen years old. She was lying on the ground, her will to survive making her hand tightly grasp your trouser leg.
“Save…save me…”
Blood oozed from between her teeth.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid"
You immediately dropped the book in your arms, but the strength in your body had long been evaporated by the scorching heat. You tried your best to drag her up, but her weak cry for help was not worth mentioning at this moment. Her unfortunate flesh and blood body was heavily stepped on by the people who came later, and you involuntarily let go of her hand.
Bloodstains were winding along the ground where the dragging took place, and the person on the ground was already silent.
People were still screaming and wailing, with no time to cry, and they were on the verge of death.
You gasped for breath, tears of fear falling to the ground. You hurriedly went back to pick up the book and stumbled towards the corner again.
Until a police baton hit you on the forehead, blood gushed out, and instantly covered your eyes. You fell down, your consciousness gradually became numb, you felt dizzy, and finally fainted on the ground. The copy of "Gone with the Wind" that you were holding tightly in your arms fell out, and the ancient red cover gradually merged with the ground.
Blood rolled, and smoke rose slowly in the sky, gradually expanding to form a precarious black cloud.
Not long after, a neat and orderly convoy appeared in front, and the Mercedes-Benz in the front suddenly braked and stopped.
The moment the car door opened and a pair of long and powerful legs stepped out of the car, deafening salutes rang out all around, and the arms raised high revealed a jungle-like formation.
Ta-da, ta-da, ta-da.
Heavy military boots stepped on your body, and then kicked your body straightened up. Your pale face covered in blood was full of horror.
The man half-knelt down, his wide-brimmed hat slightly tilted on his head. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment, then he picked up the copy of "Gone with the Wind" on the ground, flipped through it a few times, and then threw the book on you.
The gray-blue outer coat, white lining, and red cloth cover somehow combine to create a deadly color.
The man snorted softly, then reached into your collar with his cool leather gloves. He pressed his fingers hard on your collarbone and touched something unexpected. He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He pulled out the rose necklace and weighed the pendant in his hand.
Gold chain, rare red diamond, exquisite carving.
The man had an indifferent expression on his face. He played with it for a while as if he was bored, then threw it away casually.
He stood up, casually adjusted his military cap, made a gesture, and you were dragged onto the truck, your limbs hanging like rags, no one pitying you, at the mercy of others.
The edited version of the text is 5.5k, and the hidden ending of the gift can unlock the full version of this chapter, which is 1.2w~
No gift record
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
