Chapter 37: Jade Rabbit "surrounds" the priest (Sunday second update) All...
Is this Miss Alice's shop?
The man looked at the different store name written on the sign - Charlie's Drug Store - with a puzzled look on his face.
He turned to look at the oddly shaped sign jutting from the eaves. But it was indeed Miss Alice's. After all, what other shopkeeper would put a rabbit motif on a drugstore sign, and do it so impressively? Even the details were identical, and the iconic object held in the rabbit's paws was unmistakable.
He subconsciously curled the corners of his lips, then immediately retracted his smile.
These days, he'd sought out a sparsely populated area, hoping to truly calm down. But the more he tried, the more restless he became. A constant clump of sticky matter clung to his head, making it impossible for him to think.
Ever since Alice had overbearingly forbidden him from following his old mistress, insisting he follow her, his new one, he'd stopped even the prayers he'd once used to calm his heart. He felt a constant fear that disobeying the young lady would displease her, and he worried that such impious prayers would blaspheme God. He felt lost and uncertain, unable to find a voice, and couldn't make a decision.
After thinking about it, Adrian Moran stepped into the pharmacy.
The store was bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the usual deserted pharmacies and the worried-looking customers. Everyone around was beaming with anticipation, eager to chat and share news.
"Are you here to buy the hair-strengthening and rejuvenation cream too?" a gentleman asked the person next to him.
"Of course. I came here a couple of days ago, and they were sold out." The gentleman in the bowler hat took off his hat and greeted his new friend, a stranger but with the same goal. "Look, I've already used one bottle. My scalp keeps itching, and new hair is about to grow. I need to reapply the ointment quickly."
"Congratulations, we'll have to renew it quickly," the man sighed. "It's just not cheap. I don't know how that Oriental Alice Pharmacy in London dares to charge such a high price."
Adrian Moran paused after hearing the news about the person he missed from others. Apparently, the young lady's pharmacy had flourished while he was away from London. A new ointment called Hair Strengthening and Rejuvenating Cream seemed to be very popular. It even had fans in his own county.
"Of course, because it really works. No matter how expensive it is, I have to bite the bullet and set aside some money to cure this chronic hair problem," said the man in the bowler hat. "Haven't you heard that the upper class is also rushing to buy it? We middle-class people are just trying to keep up the trend."
"Of course I don't know. I learned the news from my noble client. He bought several bottles at the beginning, and now his new hair is as long as a finger joint." The person asking the question handed over a business card, "Hello, I'm a lawyer. You can contact me if you need anything." The two of them got more and more interested in the conversation and exchanged names and business cards.
Adrian Moran continued walking towards the counter and, after asking the clerk, he learned that Miss Alice's new drug had become a hit across Britain, sparking a hair growth craze. As soon as hair began to grow, people threw away their wigs, revealing their own fine hair, and competed to see whose hair grew better and longer. This became a new trend.
Finally, the clerk said, "It's not warm enough now. I bet that when summer comes, those gentlemen and ladies won't even wear hats anymore. They'd rather show all their hair."
The ointment sold so well that the cooperating store naturally wanted to make a mark and added a rabbit-shaped sign unique to the "Oriental Alice" pharmacy at the door of the store, for fear that people would not know that they sold the most popular hair-strengthening and rejuvenation ointment in London.
The man went into the store and cleared up some of his doubts, but left with even more inexplicable emotions. Before leaving, he looked up and saw the rabbit sign, proudly standing on a round wooden board, still hanging overhead.
On the other hand, the news about the hair-strengthening and rejuvenating cream was gradually spread to the entire European continent on the ships that never stopped at the docks.
Upon hearing this news, Europeans immediately exclaimed, "Hair loss isn't just a British problem; it's our collective European pain!" We too need this miraculous salve. Remember, this was a lifelong affliction that even the Sun King of France, Louis XIV, could not resolve with the combined efforts of his nation. He resorted to the wig craze, which spread throughout Europe. Now, almost everyone suffering from hair loss has one or more wigs, often branded as fashionable.
But who wants to be bald? If you have your own hair, who wants to wear a wig that is difficult to maintain and can easily damage the little natural hair left?
The pharmaceutical exclusive rights cooperation business, which had been expanding in an orderly and steady manner, suddenly spread across the entire Europe as fast as a ship with sails hoisted.
A flood of drug dealers approached, overwhelming the Bond Street store, which was supposed to cater to the entire city's pharmaceutical needs. Alice resorted to renting out a nearby cafe to discuss a partnership. Regarding language issues, she contacted a lawyer and contacted professionals to draft bilingual contracts for drug dealers from different countries. The chatter was truly deafening.
Pharmaceutical companies from around the world readily signed the freshly-made contracts. What strings were attached? As long as it meant saving their troubled hair and earning a windfall, they agreed. Companies in the same region even nearly came to blows over exclusive sales rights.
Not only did hair-strengthening and rejuvenating creams, but also stimulating creams became popular in Europe, opening up new sales channels. Women in countries like France, Italy, and Austria quickly ditched their smelling salt bottles for stimulating creams. They meticulously designed embellishments like ribbon embroidery to highlight their stimulating cream bottles. Some even created crystal bottles imitating the patterns of medicine bottles specifically for stimulating creams.
Adrian Moran was unaware of this news. Hampshire was an agricultural county, and news was generally isolated. He hadn't been to the city for a long time, so he knew even less.
The young lady seemed completely unfazed by his departure, concentrating on expanding the business of the "Oriental Alice" pharmacy. Since leaving London, he often felt a lack of peace of mind, as if he was getting further and further away from the life he had envisioned. The culprit, the young lady, often played tricks on him in his dreams.
Laughing to himself, he rode on.
Spring is approaching and the wind in Hampshire is no longer so biting.
He rode aimlessly on the country road, not knowing where his next destination would be, as if he had lost his soul.
Maybe he could go further south.
I shouldn't have allowed myself to learn about that young lady today. My already confused heart became even more confused.
When he left London, he only took his winter clerical robes, and he wore them throughout the trip, trying to contain his erratic mind. He felt that if he didn't wear them to constantly remind him of his identity and his years of faith, he would immediately make a decision that was out of his control.
There was a hint of melancholy in the clear blue eyes.
He didn't know how to treat the future goddess, nor did he know how to respond to her demands. He even found it difficult to describe how she felt in his heart.
A yellow rose flower slanted out from the top of the mountain wall on the side of the road ahead.
He was suddenly hit.
Perhaps, Miss Alice is the yellow rose before me, growing freely in the wild. I don't know how its seeds landed on this land, but it has grown into this vibrant form on the cliffs of the mountaintop, looking up at the sky with pride.
He didn't know what grabbed him, what pulled him, but he suddenly dismounted and began to climb the mountain. The mountain wasn't high, but there were no established paths, and the loose soil meant that Adrian Moran had to use his hands and feet to make his way up in many places. When he finally reached the top, he didn't stop for a moment, disregarding the danger, desperately trying to get closer to the edge of the mountain, where the yellow roses stretched out diagonally.
At this moment, he had no other thoughts in his mind, he just wanted to get closer, closer.
There was a selfish voice in his heart urging him to take this beauty for himself.
He drew out the little knife he carried with him, the silver knife which had passed from Wickham's hand into his, and which he had not yet returned to Miss Alice.
At the last moment when the silver-white blade was about to touch the rose stem, he suddenly stopped and put down the hand holding the knife.
It shouldn't be this way. Such beauty shouldn't be destroyed by his selfish greed. Adrian Moran stepped back repeatedly.
He knew what he was thinking at that moment. He shouldn't, couldn't, and couldn't do it. The man mercilessly criticized his own ridiculous wishful thinking.
After calming down his inappropriate thoughts, he sat down on the top of the mountain and stared at the yellow rose for a long time. When it was dark and the road was almost invisible, he carefully descended the mountain, mounted his horse, and returned to Winchester, which was not far away. He found an inn to stay in before the rain came.
He gave the hotel waiter some money to buy painting supplies for him.
The memory of the roses he had just seen was still fresh in his mind.
After getting the painting supplies, he adjusted them repeatedly and finally got the color he wanted.
Adrian Moran focused on painting the rose.
With a few taps of the brush in his hand, goose yellow stamens were left on the canvas.
The young lady's almond-shaped eyes flashed through my mind, some of them lively, some complacent, some maliciously teasing, and some affectionately seductive.
He added a very small amount of red paint and remixed it, then used his side brush to draw a few petals near the pistil.
What comes to mind is the small red mole at the corner of her eye and the side of her temple.
He started writing again and drew the third layer of rose petals.
Her occasionally shaggy hair flashed by, sometimes as tickling as her eyes.
Draw the flower stem with a vertical stroke and outline the thorns on the stem.
In front of me was her upturned mouth, hiding a bad idea.
…
He finally finished the painting at midnight.
A yellow rose blossomed slantingly across the canvas, dazzling in its glory. Nearby, a snow-white rabbit with crimson eyes stretched out its paw to play with the petals. The rabbit's expression was vivid and lifelike, as majestic as the one on the shop sign.
Adrian Moran put down his pen and sat in the chair, looking at the painting all night.
In the early morning light, his blue eyes, which seemed to have stopped blinking, finally moved.
Let's go back to London, the man said to himself.
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The author has something to say: Rabbit: Sir, please raise your hands, you are surrounded by me!
Blow on the rabbit fur, and the rabbit-shaped shop sign soldiers are assembled.
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