The first letter Jenkins read was from the Silver Jasmine Opera Company. Because before the trip, Hathaway had already handed over the music for the opera to Mr. Nelly, so after half a month of running-in and revision, the opera "Steam Train Murder" with a total of five acts can finally be completed. was put on stage.
Mr. Nellie sent a letter to invite Jenkins and Hathaway to watch their preview at the Opera House on Sunday morning and give corresponding guidance. This is a very grand thing, because reporters and critics will be there too. This would have been a normal thing, but the problem is that Hathaway is very likely to invite Britney, and Jenkins has been avoiding seeing the blonde girl again.
"Sooner or later, this matter must be resolved."
He said to himself, stopped for a while at the five-forked road, gave way to the speeding carriage, and turned to continue walking towards the east street. Passing by a little girl selling flowers, he put the letter in his pocket, then turned around to stop the girl, and bought a rose at a very high price.
Now he is not afraid of this kind of little girl at all, but judging from his current performance, he seems to be suffering from the disease of "if you meet a flower girl, you must help them".
Although this is also an unhealthy psychological state, it is better than being afraid. And his slightly morbid behavior can be classified as doing good deeds, which will not hurt anyone except the wallet.
Keep going with that wilting red rose, it's noon, so of course the morning flowers will be like this. His hand is constantly conveying the spirit of life to the flower. Of course, those who pass by cannot see the change of the flower, but if they can continue to observe the distance of a street, they will definitely be able to find its amazing recovery.
This street is full of people, and people of all colors pass by Jenkins, and they will subconsciously take a look at the delicate rose in his hand. In this season, it is difficult to see such bright flowers.
He glanced at his pocket watch, there was still a long time before the end of the noon break, and he didn't need to go fast, so he took out another letter from his pocket to read.
It was a very pleasant letter, from the bookseller Mr. Blow. He announced to Jenkins the two-day sales of Frozen, and the little figure written in dark blue ink on the paper was so staggering that even Jenkins had prepared himself for it I sigh in my heart.
The "new knowledge" brought to this world by him can bring him a small amount of spirit through the sage's kiss on the forehead. And since Monday, the feeling of the spirit in the void flowing into his body has been uninterrupted, and he knew from then on that the new book would not fail.
"That said, I'm getting in the first month... oh, that's a lot of money."
No one would dislike the gold pounds in their hands, and so did Jenkins. He plans to donate part of the money as usual after he gets it, because he always believes that the income from the "copy" part should not belong to him.
Most of the rest still have to go into his pocket. After all, he brought those stories to this world, and it took a lot of effort to polish, adapt and modify them.
"Sir, sorry to disturb you."
While thinking, he didn't notice that a carriage across the street stopped. A middle-aged gentleman got out of the car, walked quickly across the street with a cane, and caught up with Jenkins who was still moving forward.
"Sorry to bother you, sir, where did you buy the flower in your hand?"
He took a few breathless breaths before he could speak completely. But the expression is awkward, and I think I'm not good at striking up a conversation with strangers. It was cold in winter, and white mist spewed out of his mouth when he spoke, and he smiled apologetically at Jenkins.
"Is this? This is..."
He still can't explain it:
"Bought it from a little flower girl over there. If you need it, then take it."
After speaking, he stuffed it into the hands of the middle-aged man. It's useless for him to hold flowers, after all, chocolate doesn't like to eat such things.
"How dare you do that? How much did you spend just now? I can..."
"Oh, sir, you don't need to give me money, please take it with peace of mind. Since you were able to get off the carriage and catch up with me across half a street, then this flower must be very important to you. Please take it and wish you success!"
After finishing speaking, he winked at the man. The middle-aged man smiled embarrassedly, twirled the flowers in Jenkins' hands, took off his gloves and shook hands with Jenkins to say goodbye.
Watching the man return to his carriage, Jenkins turned and continued on his way.
"Gifts of roses, hand a fragrance."
He whispered this sentence in the ancient words in his memory, and then sniffed the hand holding the flower just now, but he didn't smell anything.
"I knew it was just a metaphor."
This was originally just a trivial matter in daily life, just like passing by a certain alley at noon and encountering an illegal assembly while walking a cat at night, it will be completely forgotten after half an hour. But it was such a small matter that caused an accident five hours later in the evening.
It was already five o'clock at that time, and the guests from just now were sent away. The old man was kneeling in front of the counter to keep accounts, and Jenkins put the box that had just been dug out back to its original position.
With that done, he can leave work, and he plans to go straight to church for lunch, and then start tonight's class.
jingle~
"Welcome... oh, Captain Bincy? Welcome."
While talking, he was going to get the coat on the wall: "I'll leave right away. If you have something confidential to talk to dad, you can wait a while."
"No, Jenkins, I'm here for you."
He said and walked to the counter, Jenkins followed behind. The man took off his hat, shook the snow on the brim of his hat, and then took out a black and white photo from his pocket. The photo was brand new, obviously it had just been developed.
"Do you know this person?"
The background of the photo was a red carpet, but it was stained black with blood. The middle-aged man who presented flowers at noon looked at the camera with his eyes wide open, as if he was looking at Dad and Jenkins outside the photo. He was obviously dead, for there was nothing below his neck, and it was a horrible way to die.
"Yes... I met him at noon."
Jenkins nodded, but hesitated. Since it was Captain Bincy who came to him to check the situation, not the police at Carfax Yard, it meant that this was not a simple murder case.
"Is there a problem with this?"
What Jenkins can think of, Dad can naturally think of.