Chapter 42【VIP】
After the confrontation, Opesa left Sindriel's room.
Henry woke up late in the evening. Fortunately, he had no idea what happened after he got drunk. He only vaguely remembered that he was carried to the guest bedroom, which made it easier for Opesa to explain the situation later.
As for the proposal, Opesa could only delay it and used the excuse that "Sinderel is a quiet person and doesn't want to marry a stranger casually" to politely decline Henry's request.
Henry didn't look very regretful, which made Opesa feel relieved.
With such trouble as this, Opesa still wanted to send him away quickly and didn't even mention the investment.
After everything was over, Opesa fell into endless depression again.
...Sinderel blew herself up. Can she still complete the main mission and return home?
There are also secret words. Now Sinderel is the backbone of her store. Under the current circumstances, what qualifications and identity does she have to let Sinderel stay?
Oh, and there's a house.
Sinderel attached great importance to the house. Now it seems that he wanted to get it because of his sister who died young.
Now that I have paid back all the money to Pace Trading House, I don't know if I can go to the church again to handle the transfer. If I can, maybe I can use this to keep Sinderel.
However, there are still too many uncertainties. It would be bad if he changed his mind and kicked me and my two daughters out.
Furthermore, she couldn't guarantee that Sinderel would be able to return to Whisper after she sold the house.
She had always thought that as long as Sinderel and Henry fell in love, everything would be fine. She didn't try to find out anything, not even the earrings given by the inexplicably appearing white-haired man.
What kind of earrings can block the system that is said to be invincible in the world of novels?
If magic and gods really exist in this world, perhaps this is not a simple time travel and binding system, but a magic that was cast in advance.
Thinking of the setting of the novel world at the beginning, Opesha seemed to have some guesses:
This world itself was created by the conflict between two angels. Perhaps the white-haired beggar who gave her the earrings was Amra, one of the angels - the angel in charge of destiny.
But what she was more curious about was whether the Angel of Pain existed in this world.
If the Angel of Pain also existed in this world, then everything she encountered would be easily solved.
The more she thought about it, the more hopeless she felt. Opesa decided to think about what to do next.
It is no longer possible to advance the plot normally, complete the mission and go back. Now I can only try my best to survive in this world, and then I can only go with the flow.
But a big tree attracts the wind, and she's already antagonized quite a few forces, especially the Pace Trading House, an organization that's never shown its face but has been causing trouble nearby. She currently knows nothing about it. Perhaps she should really investigate on her own.
Since then, Sinderel no longer wore women's clothes, but put on clothes and pants. He also cut his hair shorter, and tied the longer ends of his hair behind his head, revealing his heroic and angular face.
Dusula and Anastasia's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when they saw his attire. Opesha was at a loss for words, so she simply said that he was raised as a daughter by the original owner's husband, and that was why he was wearing women's clothing.
Such an answer could only fool the children. Because she was the "elder", the two did not dare to ask more questions and just swallowed and shut up.
Sinderel never spoke to her on his own initiative, and he no longer discussed work with Opesha. The atmosphere suddenly dropped to freezing point, and the relationship that had finally eased froze again.
He was like a programmed machine, doing his work, producing, cooking, purchasing... over and over again, and in short, he would not talk to Opesha.
Opesha is also stubborn and doesn't talk unless she wants to. She can always find out the details of Pace Trading House by herself.
But the clues just stopped here. She went to the flower kiln to look for Ella; went to the black street to look for informants; and even squatted near John's store to eavesdrop, but found nothing.
She didn't even ask for the address of Pace Trading Company. She had always asked Sinderel to pay back her debts before and had never found out herself.
I went to ask about the house again. It turned out that the house had been mortgaged to the trading company by the original author and could not be moved.
Just at this time, John somehow got a glimpse of her innovation and produced the new props she was going to use earlier than her. Due to the fast production speed, her income was reduced by half.
Opesha felt even more depressed.
She kept thinking about what she said that day - was it too harsh, but she really didn't want Xindrel to live in shackles.
He didn't understand her either.
After returning empty-handed from Ella again, Opesa's mind was filled with Ella's words.
"Don't try to peek, because that's dangerous in itself."
Ella didn't tell her anything, only revealed Sinderel's specialness and asked her to leave. The result was the same every time.
Once again, all efforts were in vain. Opesa took off her scarf and walked into the whisper dejectedly.
The sound of the loom could be heard. Opesa put down her scarf and hat and looked inside.
The door of the workshop was open, and Xinde was sitting there, not reacting to her arrival.
However, now he completely ignored her, treating her like air.
He no longer wore women's clothes, and Opesa was still a little uncomfortable with it, so she always took a few more glances to confirm.
It's his. Not only is the style old-fashioned, but the size is a size too big. Even if he no longer hides his height, he still looks hunched over and empty.
It should be the clothes left by Brand, which were taken away by him.
He is a mysophobe and refuses to use items that have been used by others. Now, in order to prove his manhood, he actually endures the smell of others and wears them stubbornly.
As he was doing this, the rolled-up sleeves fell down again, and Sinderel repeated the action of rolling up his sleeves.
He had watched it several times. Opesa felt bad for him.
Besides, he was only wearing an old shirt.
Make him some clothes... Anyway, she still needs his help. After all, the only way for her to understand the Pace Trading House is with the help of Sinderel.
She did it as she thought, and walked into the studio and picked up a soft, long object.
"Sinderel." Opesa approached with something in hand. "Stop it."
It's still like asking a wooden stake, there is no response.
Having been ignored so many times, Opesa had long been accustomed to doing things her own way. She simply reached out and straightened the strip, then put her arms around Sinderel from behind.
I felt the body in my arms become stiff, and the movements of my hands stopped. A muffled voice came from behind: "...What are you doing?"
Opesha retaliated by not answering him, but simply feeling the size of his waist, her fingertips tucked into the intersection of the measuring tape, her arms gradually tightening.
With a "swish", her two wrists were caught in the palm of a big hand. The other party pressed gently to control her movements: "Put away your tricks."
"A trick?" Opesa laughed behind him, slowly blowing her hot, moist breath on the back of his neck. "This dress is too big for you. If you don't make a new one, when I meet the fabric merchant tomorrow, do you want them to think I'm mistreating my employees?"
The intense stimulation in his sensitive area made him tremble all over. The vise-like control finally loosened a little. His emerald eyes were icy. "I am not your hired hand."
"Then consider it a partner benefit." Opesa said without hesitation, took advantage of the looseness to break free from the restraints and wrapped the tape measure around his arm.
This was the first time she saw his arms up close. His forearm muscles were taut and should have been full of tension, but there were many old scars all over them, some of which had become raised growths and were not at all beautiful.
The tape measure was wobbling as soon as it was wrapped around him. She pressed harder, her nails digging into his flesh. "Don't move," she wrote down the data. "If you move again, I'll sew you to the chair."
Sinderel pulled his hand away suddenly, but the tape measure wrapped around his wrist like a snake, and Opesa pulled him forward uncontrollably - their noses almost bumped, and he could even smell the faint scent of soapberry on her body.
He was suddenly stunned and wanted to step back, but she pressed her knee against his waist. The edge of the wooden table hit his hip, and he gasped in pain.
"Let go." He gritted his teeth, and bent his five fingers that were supporting the table, revealing the hideous blue veins.
"Shoulder width... Yeah, standard broad shoulders and narrow waist." Opesa counted as if she hadn't heard him. The tape measure slid down his arm to his shoulder. "I was wondering why the dress I bought you last time was so awkward. It turns out it wasn't the wrong size. You were deliberately pretending to be a woman by holding your chest in."
Her fingertips brushed the back of his neck, his most sensitive spot.
Sinderel froze, and grabbed her wrist with his backhand, with enough force to break bones: "I say again, let go."
"If you let go, you'll run away." Opesa didn't let go. Instead, she used her knee to push harder against his waist, forcing him to let go. With her other hand, she used a tape measure to measure his chest circumference, "Let go."
After waiting for a long time, her hand was still clamped, and Opesa pushed it again impatiently: "I told you, let go!"
Still not letting go, Opesa rolled her eyes and slowly lowered the hand holding the tape measure to his chest.
Then he slowly and softly drew an irregular circle.
"!" Sinderel's chest heaved violently, goose bumps instantly appeared all over his body, and his scalp began to numb.
Opesa took the opportunity to wrap the tape measure around his chest and deliberately pressed her fingertips on his heart - his heartbeat was so fast that it seemed like it was about to explode through the coarse cloth shirt.
She suddenly laughed and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear: "So you are not an ice cube."
Warm breath brushed against his ear, and Sinderel jerked his head aside, only to find her gripping the back of his neck with a tape measure. It wasn't too tight, but it felt like an oppression that brooked no resistance.
The face as bright as a blood-red rose was close at hand, and the sarcastic purple eyes reflected his defeated appearance at the moment.
He was going crazy.
Whenever he met her, he would be at a disadvantage, his rationality would be drained away, and he would be completely unable to resist.
"Chest circumference 2'5" Opesha let go of the tape measure and continued to write down the numbers. When her fingertips brushed across his Adam's apple, she deliberately scratched it lightly with her nails. "Next is..."
The anger built up until he could no longer bear it, and Sinderel grabbed her wrist and tried to shake her off to escape.
But Opesha was prepared. She turned around following his force and stepped heavily on his knee with her high-heeled leather boots. After a dull thud, Sinderel was pressed to half-kneel on the ground.
The tape measure slipped from Opesa's fingers and dangled between them. Opesa looked down at him with a big, triumphant smile. "Can I measure you properly now, Mr. Sinderel?"
The other person was silent, just looking up at her in embarrassment. His golden hair was now disheveled, with strands hanging on both sides of his cheeks. He looked dejected, but his eyes were fierce.
"I never told you, but I did learn some self-defense skills before...ah!"
Before she could finish her words, a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her collar and pulled it down.
This action caught her off guard, and before she could react, she was dragged to the ground.
She subconsciously reached out for support and touched an area that was both soft and hard.
It doesn't hurt.
Because she leaned almost her entire body on Sinderel.
She sat astride his waist, her hands resting squarely on his chest, while he half-raised his head, and her gaze fell directly into a deep green.
The muscles under the fabric are hard. Who would have thought that such lines were hidden under the women's clothing.
The heaving of her chest made her heart tremble. The measuring tape was wrapped around her wrists and Sinderel's neck like a leash - she was taming a violent wolfhound.
Now it was Opesha's turn to feel uneasy.
Her heart was pounding, and she felt that this posture was inappropriate and wanted to get up, but she moved hurriedly, fearing that Sinderel would hear her heartbeat.
But a big hand covered her waist, and the other party just pressed it casually and controlled her in a small space.
He had no intention of letting her go.
Such a fragile and slender body is easy to control.
It's also easy to crush it.
With his other hand, he lifted her chin and used only two fingers to block her gaze. "Continue measuring." He pinched her chin hard, narrowing his narrow eyes slightly. "Why don't you dare move?"
Opesa's ears were red as if they were about to bleed.
But there was no way she could be subdued by Sinderel.
Opesha tugged on the measuring tape, forcing Sindriel closer to her.
"Who said I don't dare?" She raised her eyebrows. "You seem to have forgotten that you were the only one who was subdued."
She measured it inch by inch, and he watched it inch by inch, his eyes as intense as a bottle of strong wine, easily enough to make one confused. In this game, it seemed there was no winner, only a contest of equal strength.
But Sinderel knew better than anyone that he had been conquered long ago.
He was the only one who lost.
Sindriel's hand unconsciously relaxed, and Opesha immediately withdrew and stood up straight. Hiding her flushed face, she turned her back to Sindriel and said, "Get up! Don't even think about not having the strength to stand up."
Sinderel was stunned for a moment, then slowly stood up from the ground and stood behind Opesha, looking at her quietly.
She was sewing clothes with such skill and facility that it was impossible to tell that a month ago she couldn't even thread a needle.
As he watched, his mind wandered and he asked unconsciously, "Have you ever done this to anyone else?"
"No, our clothes are very cheap and can be made quickly. You don't need to make them yourself."
Sinderel didn't hear the second half of the sentence at all.
She had never made clothes for anyone else. She was making clothes for him with her own hands.
He was the first one.
He suddenly grabbed Opesha's hand and said, "You can't do this for others."
He wants to be the only one.
Opesa felt like her hand bones were about to be crushed by him. She shook him off with all her strength, covering her red wrist and glaring at him: "Okay, okay, if you have something to say, just say it. Why are you hitting me? It hurts so much."
Perhaps because he got the answer he wanted, Xindrel finally calmed down and stood quietly behind her watching her make clothes.
After finishing the last stitch, Opesa picked up her masterpiece and shook it. "It's done." She handed the shirt to Sinderel. "Try it on?"
Sinderel just glanced at it without saying a word.
"Why aren't you moving?" she couldn't help but say, "My skills are only good enough to make a shirt."
Sinderel still said nothing.
"What's not satisfactory?"
Still didn't say anything.
"...If you don't speak, I'll be lost."
"The line is crooked." He finally spoke, his voice lower than before.
"You know my level. If not, I'll go to the street and buy you one." Opesa wanted to throw away the clothes, but Sinderel held her hand.
His palms were cold, with thin calluses from years of holding knives.
But this time, he didn't use any more force.
“That’s it,” he said. “No one can see.”
Just as he finished speaking, there was a loud noise at the door of the store.
Opesa was startled and looked towards the door in shock - there was a hand stuck in the gap of the door.
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