Chapter 240 Ch239 Flowers in the Storm

Chapter 240 Ch.239 Flowers in the Storm

Anyone who has been beaten for playing with shredded paper knows that happiness is only a moment, and it is very difficult to clean up after it is…

Deadly.

Either the person who cleans up the shredded paper kills the person who plays with the shredded paper; or no one cleans up after it.

Kill yourself.

The golden cannons burst out in a moment.

But it is too difficult to clean them up.

It is winter now, the season of howling winds.

These thin pieces of real gold are rolled everywhere, either sticking to a gentleman's face, or wrapped around a lady's hat or squeezed into the folds of a skirt (which makes the men helpless) - not to mention those that fly to other districts, they are like five-pound coins with wings, and monkeys with extremely strong jumping power are everywhere wherever they pass.

No one cares about "respectability" at this time, as long as you pick up a handful, you can actually exchange it for pennies and shillings.

That's gold!

- It wouldn't have been discovered so quickly. Until one of the workers got really impatient and cut corners, and the paper became thicker and thicker...

Rose didn't have many helpers.

Anyway, it was either Roland, her, or Beatrice.

Someone must have been lazy.

The thickness of the paper was not right, it couldn't fly, and fell to the ground, countless pieces smashed in the mud.

It spread quickly.

All afternoon, the word "the paper is pure gold" spread like an infectious disease in London - the busybodies, the greedy people, all kinds of people came out of the factory, from home, and on the street.

The newsboys were stopped and taken away by the police, and their small cannons were also looted.

Then, these people found the marks on the paper.

No, it was not hand-carved, but pressed by a machine.

There was a simple blessing on it:

'Merry Christmas - Marvolo Hayman. '

Christmas has long passed.

It is really a belated blessing.

Passersby who didn't know the inside story of the matter praised the owner of this surname loudly, while the few who knew about it just laughed and then told the whole story when asked by the curious.

The Heyman family was defrauded of 40,000 pounds.

Apparently, today's "Golden London" comes from this generous man.

Too generous, Mr. Heyman.

Too generous.

Today's London is not even one ten-thousandth as brilliant as your wisdom.

- But just as everyone was celebrating and joking, a group of black-clad policemen holding wooden sticks began to sweep from the East End.

"Shut up! Hand over the paper you picked up! It's evidence - shut up! Do you want me to throw you in jail?!"

They threatened to take away these "scraps of paper" - but they were just as scraps of paper.

Of course, the citizens were not happy.

"I picked this up."

"Shit! This is the wealth of the Heyman family - push it back!"

"I didn't break the law... Don't touch me! For the love of you, what's wrong with you? Don't touch me! I didn't break the law - I'm going to sue you! I'm a citizen of this country! What right do you have - F**"

Insults, quarrels, and shoving soon turned into more violent conflicts.

Of course, this only happened to some people.

Those gentlemen and ladies wearing cloaks and the latest scarves didn't touch the small pieces of paper on the ground at all.

At most, they picked it up curiously and looked at it, and then threw it away with disgust.

Scotland Yard was established not long ago, and there are not enough personnel to cover the whole of London.

They swept through one district after another, trying to take back the wealth of the big guys from these poor people who got it for nothing.

Roland set up a small table on the balcony, and he and Rose tasted the gift from Mr. Chanderson one cup at a time. Brewing noble rot wine is an extremely risky thing, but it must be done this way to produce such a smooth and fragrant masterpiece.

Just like what someone did today.

But Rose said in her heart that she always felt that this person was not doing it for the ceremony, but simply enjoying this thrilling crazy fun.

"Golden London."

The smooth fragrance of the wine spread in her mouth. Roland held the wine glass, his hair was tied down, and his black hair was scattered on his forehead. He tilted his head lazily and looked downstairs.

Rose didn't say much for half an afternoon.

She was actually quite excited, but not because she realized that the third condition in the ceremony had been completed. She was excited because:

Finally, she could see the truth of a person like wiping off the misty breath on the glass.

Seeing his soul as calm as the turbulent waves under the lake in the afternoon.

Roland.

This vicious-mouthed golden-eyed black-haired Collins.

He, like me.

Crazy to the right degree.

"You like it too, don't you."

Rose held the glass, her green eyes flashing with a different kind of brilliance.

"What do you like?" Roland focused on the two men entangled downstairs, watching them fight for a piece of gold paper, and then fighting against the detectives who came after hearing the news.

It's so interesting, law-abiding citizens.

"Adventure." Rose gritted her teeth and bit off the thin string called silence: "Or... chaos."

She is not a person who obeys everything.

But if she takes off her soft skirt, there are many people who are willing to obey her.

Since she grew up, since she knew what a "mirror" was and admired her face in the mirror for the first time, Rose, who was born like that, knew very well what she could get from them if she wanted.

Some people have money and will buy her everything;

Others will not restrain her, and restrain her with "what a woman should do";

Some people can solve her troubles, and they will take care of whatever mess she makes;

Other people are responsible for loving her, and they only love her humbly and devoutly, providing the kind of love that the previous ones don't have.

She can eat the best.

Tender lamb, fresh fish, and the most premium steak that costs a lot of shillings for the sauce alone. She drinks expensive wine, which has caused many people to die in ocean storms and blood-stained wine.

She can buy jewelry box by box and clothes cabinet by cabinet.

She doesn't have to go to the street to "work", sweat when the sun is the hottest, and walk through the streets and alleys under it when the winter wind is the coldest.

She only needs to wear an exquisite collar, pick the golden lock with well-maintained, slender fingers, walk in proudly, and close the cage door from the inside.

Debauchery, wealth, and countless days of honor.

Her background, experience, and memory make her sure that she can do half of it.

At least more than half.

She just wanted to be happy dealing with gentlemen and ladies, to satisfy them, but not completely satisfy them - instead of using a blade to cut open a purse, using fingers that should be as soft and tender as a baby to pick locks and climb windows.

Then she was beaten, tore her skirt like a tomboy, and led her men to run away while cursing.

No need to listen to the most vulgar insults in the tavern, and then respond with more vulgar insults.

She once wondered if she was a "monster".

Even Anne had the dream of becoming a "woman" - and she?

Content with the status quo.

She loved stealing, robbing, walking on the edge of a knife, the excitement of the heart pumping to the trembling of the brain.

The thought of tightening her waist, being wrapped in layers of inner and outer skirts, swaying her skirts and walking in small steps at those exquisite banquets - she felt bored, scared, and suffocated from the bottom of her heart.

She would rather soak in rum all her life, steal in the thundering night, rob in the storm, and even fantasize about kissing the person she loves in the most rigorous pursuit.

She had no fear at first, but she started to fear again after meeting Roland.

She was afraid that she would be raised to death in his extremely gentle, golden vase, but at the same time, she was happy with it.

She was afraid of withering, but she could not accept the disgusted look of the person who wanted to raise her:

'That is not the little flower I like, not what I imagined at first. '

She was worried about this, so she wore less and less casual clothes, imitating the women in the elephant gang and the ladies on the street.

But today.

Roland seemed to give her the answer.

'We want to create a storm more chaotic than the storm in the storm! '

He didn't seem to plan to transplant her.

"I grow in the storm, Roland. I can't live in the soil."

The girl put down the wine glass, stood up, and came to Roland.

In the doubtful eyes of the young man, she cursed a dirty word and rudely reached out to pinch the other's face.

Then, she beat the other's lips with her own lips.

After a while, she straightened up with a red face, wiped her mouth, and held her head high: "Keep up the good work, pretty face. You've been doing well recently, I like it."

But after turning around, she looked a little embarrassed.

She pressed the paint-off iron railing on the balcony, flipped over, and quickly disappeared from Roland's sight.

"She shouldn't sprain her ankle, right?"

"It would be great if you were a mute."

…………

……

"Ritual": —— (Second Ring)

"Ritual": Lawless Romance/Strange Object/Mystical Organ/Worshiper's Kiss

"Turn the rolling boulders into balloons, and turn the trumpets into morning glories!"

"This world is absurd enough, so..."

"We need some truth!"

……

"Lawless Romance (Completed)"

"Worshiper's Kiss (Completed)"

……