Chapter 47, Episode 33: Pudding Pudding...
Episode 33 "Pudding Pudding"
Strictly speaking, they are about to get married.
I was still enjoying the pleasure brought by Watson's shocked expression when London gave me another piece of gossip.
To be honest, I was genuinely surprised that Ivy Blackwell, a socialite, would choose to maintain a secret and forbidden relationship with Professor Belfast in order to advance her career in the world of fame and fortune. Her drive and ambition far exceeded my expectations.
But once this relationship is labeled "marriage," the whole story immediately changes.
It's no longer dangerous, no longer exciting, and even seems somewhat conventional.
After all, Professor Belfa became famous at a young age, and although he is now over fifty, he is still considered a hot commodity in the upper echelons of society, where one is in the prime of life and career.
In addition, it's not uncommon for older men to marry younger women in this circle, with age differences of 50 years or more being quite common.
I remember a Russian military history professor who was over sixty years old, yet he still managed to attract female students in their early twenties. In the end, the female student, who wanted to leave him, was murdered and dismembered by him.
What a bland piece of gossip.
I:"……"
Seeing that I didn't react, London asked, "Why are you suddenly so calm?"
That's when I heard the regret in its tone.
London clearly expects me to make a fuss again.
"I've always been someone who doesn't show my emotions."
I said shamelessly.
Just as they were silently arguing with London, Watson suddenly interrupted with a clearly confused voice: "So, the marriage prospect Miss Blackwell mentioned is Professor Belfast?"
I almost reflexively replied, "Oh, Watson knows about this too. London, tsk tsk, you're not so great."
London: "..."
In my opinion, this is nothing more than a very ordinary confirmation.
Surprisingly, as soon as Watson finished speaking, Holmes glanced in his direction.
That glance was so slight, yet it was enough for Watson to realize that he might have said something he shouldn't have. He immediately shut his mouth.
I was completely bewildered by their abrupt reaction: "What's wrong? Is there a problem?"
Watson hesitated for a moment, coughed lightly, and his tone became noticeably more cautious: "Actually... we've known Miss Blackwell for a long time."
"So what if we know each other? Isn't that normal?"
I said dismissively, then, recalling the situation, I added, "No wonder I always felt that you were very familiar with her attitude and way of speaking."
Watson glanced at Holmes again, as if hesitating whether to continue.
Holmes spoke first, “Blackwell once came to 221B and asked us to retrieve the blackmail incriminating evidence from you.”
oh.
I expected to be surprised, but the response was surprisingly calm, even intriguing: "So, how did you respond?"
“We refused,” Watson said.
"Why?" I blurted out almost immediately.
Before they could explain, I continued on my own: "I had every chance to see how you schemed and pretended to be completely indifferent as you approached me, got close to me, and even lived quietly around me. Maybe you would ask me out for drinks every day, trying to get me drunk so you could get some information out of me. You would also come to my house and bring me gifts every time."
"Oh dear, what a pity."
My tone was so sincere it was almost regretful, and I even couldn't help but sigh: "I actually missed the opportunity for you to take the initiative to eat, drink, have fun, look at the stars and the moon, and talk about life and ideals with me."
"Not to mention, you can not only get reimbursed, but also make a profit along the way."
What a perfect win-win solution!
Watson paused for a moment before looking at me again, his brow furrowed slightly, but his tone remained as gentle and sincere as ever.
"But……"
He hesitated for a moment, as if carefully considering his words, "Aren't we doing exactly what you're talking about right now?"
These words were spoken so softly, yet it was as if they had accidentally stepped on something soft and dangerous.
I was stunned for a moment.
It wasn't because I was shocked, but because these words were so natural, so taken for granted, as if they walked alongside me, shared meals with me, and shared information with me without needing any additional reason.
Seeing the unusual seriousness in Watson's eyes, I almost instinctively took a step back.
“But,” I began, my tone calmer than I had expected, “I have no intention of becoming your friend.”
The person in London was clearly struck by this remark and couldn't help but interject, "Wait, what are you saying?"
"Because I just wanted to play with you guys."
I added calmly.
I know very well what kind of person I am.
He shouldn't, and doesn't need to, become my friend.
It's fine to play around with it, but taking it so seriously is wrong.
Watson's eyes widened slightly for a moment, then turned serious: "Are you serious?"
"When I talk about making friends, it's usually just a joke."
I shook my head, my tone nonchalant, but leaving myself no way out, "If I really needed friends, where would you even be in the running?"
Watson did not respond immediately.
His hand was still in its natural hanging position, but it was as if he had suddenly forgotten what to do with it.
The hesitation wasn't obvious, but it was enough to make it clear that he was taking every word I had just said seriously.
"Just...playing?"
He repeated it again, his voice low, as if confirming something or correcting himself.
I did not deny it.
This time, Watson did not laugh.
He looked at me, and for the first time, a solemn and serious expression appeared in his blue eyes.
“I’m not accusing you. If it’s just playing around,” he said slowly, his voice restrained, “then are you saying that we’re just toys to you too?”
The moment he said those words, he seemed to realize that he had been too direct, and subconsciously pursed his lips, but did not take them back.
I noticed his gaze briefly drift towards Holmes.
Holmes did not interrupt.
This made Watson's unease even clearer.
A silence fell between us, unlike anything we'd experienced before. Even Mi Er sensed something was amiss, instinctively shrinking back and nuzzling against Watson's arm for a sense of security.
In that silence, I realized something clearly for the first time.
Watson was not unaware of it.
He simply chose to believe.
That's why, compared to the restrained yet genuine emotional fluctuations in his eyes, my increasingly calm and indifferent reaction made me seem particularly distant, even somewhat cold-hearted.
I heard myself speak, my voice surprisingly calm.
"Have you not benefited from being with me?"
This isn't a question; it's more like a conclusion I've repeatedly confirmed.
“If you take it too seriously,” I continued, in a flat tone, “you’re going overboard and showing no sense of proportion.”
London's voice almost immediately cut in, carrying a clear warning: "He Ji."
But I didn't take back what I said.
I turned my gaze to Holmes, as if picking out a perfect example: "Holmes once said that he didn't need friends. But you still worked and lived alongside him without ever getting angry about it."
I paused for a moment, and then thought about the problem further.
"But why are you angry when I say that?"
"I don't quite understand that."
The air suddenly became tense.
Watson's expression changed in that instant. It wasn't anger, but a hesitant reaction to being forced to confront differences. He opened his mouth, but didn't speak, nor did he look at me again.
He lowered his head and glanced at Mi Er Shi in his arms. The kitten, unaware of what was happening, flicked its tail slightly, still squinting and purring softly.
Watson moved very gently.
He simply held the cat securely, took a step forward, and handed Mi Er Shi back to me. The instant his fingers released me, he even subconsciously supported me for a moment, making sure I caught him, before slowly withdrawing them.
The entire process was quiet to the point of politeness, without hesitation or doubt.
"I've never met anyone like you before... It was definitely wishful thinking on my part."
Watson said in a low voice.
When Mi Er Shi was switched into someone else's arms, he was clearly stunned for a moment. He looked up at me, then looked back at Watson. The snoring in his throat paused for a moment before resuming.
I looked down at the cat and didn't say anything for a moment.
Watson had already taken half a step back.
When I looked up again, Watson had already left without looking back.
His figure was quickly swallowed by the light and shadow at the end of the corridor, while Holmes, standing to the side, neither intervened nor uttered a word. Only when Watson was about to disappear around the corner did Holmes' gaze leave my face, as if confirming something, before he too turned and left the scene.
The whole process was clean and efficient, without any unnecessary emotions.
Only Mi II and I remained in the same spot.
To be honest, my mind was blank, and my emotions were very calm. I felt like I had nothing to do with anyone or anything.
London's voice rang out: "What were you doing just now?"
I honestly replied, "I'm just being an honest person."
London paused for a moment: "You usually know how to keep your distance, even if it's fake, you'll downplay the seriousness of the matter. Why would you say something like that?"
The way she spoke to me, as if she was patiently trying to reason with me, made me a little irritated: "Why can't I say that? Besides, I don't want any contact with others, nor do I want to make friends. Why do you insist that I do that?"
London: "...You're talking without thinking. Nobody ever liked you before, right?"
This statement is impartial, as if it directly hits a pre-existing breakpoint.
And from the depths of that breakpoint, a distant and noisy echo resounded.
It's like looking through thick, murky glass.
[Completely paralyzed, useless. Treatment costs money, going home would be a burden on his family, why doesn't he just die? I really don't understand.]
His family abandoned him at a hospital in another province. He was crying alone in his ward, begging the doctors and nurses to save him, saying, "I still want to live..." Luckily, the doctors here needed data from a clinical surgical trial, so they reluctantly kept him. He's currently being supported by the hospital's welfare fund, and the doctors want to send him home. But he probably doesn't want to be abandoned on the roadside, so he doesn't mention going home anymore.
Taking care of him is such a hassle. He's neurotic, always clinging to people and wanting to be friends. Nurses and doctors have jobs, but he's always lying in bed with nothing to do. He's completely inconsiderate of others.
No wonder the medical staff haven't been coming much lately... Everyone gets tired and annoyed after a while.
I can understand my family now.
[...I can't stand it.]
Each word is like a rusty, blunt nail, wedged into the same spot, one after another.
Until the nail seemed to finally hit the bottom, a sharp, bone-grinding ringing sound came through.
I was instantly enraged.
For me, London never pretends to be polite.
I believe that its statement wasn't meant to provoke me; it genuinely reflects its own view. At the same time, it represents the opinion of at least the vast majority of people, because it serves as a standard in itself.
Since they've already gone so far as to openly admit it, I'll just admit it too.
"Let me tell you the truth."
I was almost bitterly calm: "I never truly trusted you."
The moment the words left his mouth, the cruise ship seemed to have just passed through an undercurrent, and a slight, almost imperceptible, weightless swaying came from beneath his feet.
It's like a part of my heart that had been loosening for a long time finally collapsed completely.
"When you asked me before how I knew Professor William was Moriarty's brother, I didn't tell the truth then." I spoke steadily without pausing, "because I always believed that you were never truly on my side."
"You haven't done anything for me at all; you've only warned me of the impending danger. What good is that? Will it really save me?"
I chuckled softly, my voice devoid of warmth. "I feel like you've been hiding too much from me. I even suspect that I've been living under your surveillance all along."
"Therefore, even though I became aware of the complex interpersonal relationships within the Albert family, I never took the initiative to investigate."
"I won't tell you the truth either; I suspect you'll tip me off."
I paused for a moment and gave it a very clear conclusion: "If there really isn't anyone among us who can cooperate, that's great! We can just keep things superficially peaceful."
"You'd better not try to interfere too much in my affairs."
Although London didn't respond at all, I didn't hesitate to add a warning: "Shut up."
The footsteps behind me stopped abruptly as soon as I finished speaking. I turned around sharply and saw Professor William, Albert's younger brother, standing not far away.
He glanced around to make sure no one else was there, then asked in a gentle but curious tone, "Are you talking to someone?"
I don't know why I have this burning anger inside me, and even when he speaks so politely, I still feel very unhappy.
Not to mention, there were other unfamiliar faces behind him staring at me intently.
In my memory, they seemed to be people who had appeared at the math salon yesterday.
I raised an eyebrow and bluntly said, "The professor who hosted the math salon is dead, and you're still strolling around here? Even if you're having a great time, at least pretend something, don't be treated like suspects."
Professor William was slightly taken aback.
Behind him, the two young men immediately turned pale and their bodies involuntarily tensed up.
"To be honest, none of the three of you seem like good people."
After these words were spoken, although Professor William remained calm, the other two clearly did not want to provoke him.
"Professor Moriarty, let's go find Miss Blackwell first."
Professor William stared at my face and agreed, but after taking only two or three steps, he turned back and said, "Mr. Milverton, you don't seem to be in a very good mood. Would you like my brother to keep you company?"
He paused for a moment and then said, "I'll get him for you."
I was really unhappy when he said that.
Because you made it sound like I was in a terrible mood, and I hate people who tell the truth.
I took the opportunity to say, "Since you're going to investigate Professor Belfa's case, I'll go with you. After all, we have some old acquaintance."
As for my real purpose, I didn't say it aloud.
I plan to follow them all the way and find fault with everything they do.
The moment the words left their mouths, the two young men exchanged a quick glance, their eyes conveying emotions rapidly, before anyone could ask.
Professor William merely raised his eyes slightly.
Those clear, almost innocent eyes lingered on my face for a moment, then she gave a gentle and polite look and said, "If we could get Mr. Milverton's help, this case would surely be solved much faster."
He spoke so naturally, so naturally, that it seemed as if I had taken the initiative to get involved, making it a perfectly reasonable and welcome thing.
I didn't respond, but just sneered inwardly.
There are now sixteen hours until we return to port.
"London, I suspect this is definitely related to Moriarty's scheme."
After he finished speaking, London fell silent, offering no response whatsoever.
I:"……"
Me: "London, if you don't say anything, it means you're guilty."
Me: "London, London, London!"
I called it dozens of times, but I was once again enraged by its unresponsive silence.
"London, you lied to me!"
"You lied to me! You said you would help me!"
"Are you going to abandon me now just because of one or two sentences?"
"You're a shameless, despicable liar!"
The more I cursed, the more I felt comfortable, and I even started talking nonsense.
"You're not London, you're a bad guy, you're Old Deng!"
Finally, London, barely suppressing his impatience, spoke up.
That's enough.
"Stop cursing."
It paused for a moment, as if it was gathering its emotions.
"Stop yelling. I have no other partners, only you. Besides issuing warnings, my own abilities are limited. But don't you always manage to escape unscathed without my help?"
Me: "Pudding, pudding."
London: "..."
I suspected it didn't understand, so I explained further, "I meant I don't want to listen."
London said calmly and wearily, "I know. I'm just speechless. Why do you always manage to steer the conversation towards food?"
"I've never eaten anything delicious before, so I'm craving it," I said matter-of-factly.
Of course, that's not the point!
I could sense it was still a little angry, so I softened my tone and said very obediently, "Please don't dislike me!"
"You know I'll be very obedient. If you're good to me, I'll listen to you, praise you, and like you. Wouldn't it be nice if we were happy together? Think about it, if you stop caring about me, I won't know what to do. I won't know what I want to do. You can't just let me sit on the floor crying, can you? You don't want me to be so embarrassed, do you?"
This time, London remained silent for an even longer time. Finally, it sighed as if admitting defeat.
"...I give up."
In that instant, my steps unconsciously became a little lighter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught William observing my expression. Caught red-handed, he smiled even more gently and innocently.
“You’re a really special person,” he said.
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Author's note: See you tomorrow!!
I'll randomly select 20 people to receive a small red envelope. Please leave a comment if you're interested, thank you!
I will now use the third person.
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