piece of place.
Oswald didn't get a good night's sleep for several days in a row, and now he finally lay down on the desk for a while, only to be awakened by this little beast, and his face was covered in eagle hair and muddy water.
"...you can't learn to land well, can you?" Oswald wiped his face, patted his forehead, trying to wake himself up, and pulled out the masterpiece of the impressionist master Kevin from the small metal cylinder. .
It's no wonder that the white-headed hill is not very reserved, and then distorted by Kevin Qi's brush, no matter how you look at it, it doesn't look like a serious thing.
Oswald frowned, staring at the pole-upright thing on the parchment for a long time, and finally crumpled it expressionlessly and threw it out.
It's so hot...
Chapter 23
The crumpled piece of parchment rolled around outside the door, and then was covered by the corner of the wall, completely invisible.
Sitting at the desk, Oswald rubbed the sun xué heavily, and the little spirit that he raised just now disappeared quickly. The long-term lack of sleep left him in a state of deep irritability, mixed with an indescribable exhaustion and mental numbness, as if a huge matter fell before him, and he couldn't bear to deal with it. interest.
White Eagle is aware of current affairs. It deeply feels that the person in front of it is surrounded by a layer of low air pressure, and it may catch someone and tear him up at any time, so after completing the task of delivering the letter, it immediately rolled off the table, scrambling. Lie on the ground to rest.
When people are extremely tired, their thinking is always jumping and wandering. Oswald supported his head, flipped through the military newspaper two pages ago, and glanced at the still dark night outside the window. For some reason, he suddenly remembered the former Parsons Manor.
As soon as a few fragmentary pictures were turned around, the drowsiness returned——
It seemed to be an afternoon in late spring. It was raining a lot outside those few days, with a few muffled thunders of late spring, rumbling over from a distance.
The teahouse on the second floor of the Parson Manor had half of the windows blocked by the broad-leaved privet tree, so the lighting was not very good, and the whole room seemed dark and very dim in rainy days.
Oswald sat on the chair beside the bed, with a volume of books in his hand, but kept his eyes on the garden path outside the window. The path stretches straight forward, which is the iron carved gate.
The old butler Ian coughed, cleared his throat, entered the room and said sternly: "Master, it is not a good habit to be in a daze while clutching a book, you will be punished."
The young Oswald pursed his lips and turned his head, asking, "Isn't that bastard coming today?"
The decree lines on Ian's face became deeper, "A polite gentleman should not call others like that. Your Excellency Fassbinder received the legion transfer order yesterday, and the spring break ended a week earlier, and he had already left for the Royal City camp. At that time Your fever hasn't subsided, so I didn't tell you."
When Oswald heard this, he felt rejoiced at first, and he was relieved that he could practice less silly fighting skills. But then, he felt a little dull disappointment.
He couldn't say exactly what he was disappointed with.
He only thought that although Fassbender was a bastard, he was at least much more interesting than those servants. The manor finally gained a little popularity, but now it's gone again, and the silence is a bit boring.
He stared at the carved gate at the end of the garden for a while, then turned to Ian and asked, "Then will he come for spring break next year?"
Ian thought for a while, shook his head and said truthfully: "Generally, only the first year in the legion has a full spring break. This is the recruit's welfare. He probably won't be able to come next year."
What about the year after
He wanted to ask, but the answer should be the same...
Another muffled thunder rolls past, and before he can escape from the slight disappointment, the scenery in front of him flickers, the glass window in front of him becomes a wall, and two steps forward, there is a half-opened window. The door, a few maids are hiding and chatting inside.
He vaguely heard one of them lower his voice and say: "Have you never heard the reason why master doesn't like young master?"
The other person gave a "shh", and said softly: "Didn't you find that the longer he looks like Master Keno, the less he looks like?"
"He doesn't look like a lady either."
"Madam has been seriously ill for several years, and she is so thin that she is out of shape. Can you see what she looks like?"
"That's true."
Oswald stood motionless by the wall, neither wanting to move forward, to hear better, nor to retreat.
Just when the maids were about to continue guessing and discussing, a hand was placed on Oswald's shoulder, and he patted it gently: "Master, you haven't read today's book, so you can't be lazy."
It was Ian's voice, but he turned to find the voice in front of him.