[Infrastructure] Rose kissed Barcelona

What should I do if I find out that I am being followed?

Joey frowned.She raised her hand subconsciously, and woke up suddenly when she touched the soft lace veil.

Calm down and don't act weird.

You are not the daughter of Queen Isabella II of Spain in exile, or a college student who has seen 21st-century anti-fraud propaganda.You're just Joey, a 19-year-old girl living in Barcelona and discovering nothing.

The girl's dexterous fingers brushed over the white mantilla veil, and smoothed a strand of fluttering hair behind her ears. She was playful and natural, like a deer who knew nothing about danger.

"Be careful, my dear!" The charming little deer tiptoed lightly, nimbly avoiding the little boy who was covered in rose chocolate sauce and running wildly and almost bumped into her, picked up the corner of the ice blue taffeta skirt, Bypassing a bouquet of red roses that was randomly discarded by some desperate suitor, he turned his head inadvertently and glanced at the ghostly black figure tens of meters away.

The man quickly lowered his head and watched with interest a sheep with a garland of roses on its horn.

Joey's mouth twitched.

"Honey, I've made my choice. I want this bouquet!" She sideways moved away from a couple who were leaning over in front of the rose stand arm in arm, "Oh, Amadeo I has announced his abdication again! The queen has only abdicated for two years , Madrid is really endless."

Another double abdication?Joey pursed his lips secretly, probably because he was frightened by the assassinations launched by Carlos' group of exiled nobles at every turn.The Italians are really unreliable.

"Oh!" Damn it, she accidentally bumped into someone. "please forgive."

"Forgive me. Happy St. George's Day!" The dumpy stall owner turned around with a smile on his face, all the wrinkles on his face stretched out, "Beautiful lady, would you like a rose?"

The rose stand has just been set up, with four tiers of straw shelves filled with fresh roses.The delicate petals of various colors are dotted with dewdrops like stars, and the evening breeze brings a sweet and fragrant fragrance.

"Thank you, Happy St. George's Day. I'm sorry I don't have any money." The girl's voice was as sweet as a budding rose, and no one could hear her perfunctory.But she was really absent-minded, and her searching gaze under the veil was slightly cold, until she touched the window of the cafe not far behind the rose stand, and suddenly it lit up.

"It's all right. A beautiful girl should always receive a rose on St. George's Day. Can I have the honor?"

So, a moment later, Joey stood in front of the window, holding a delicate red French in his hand behind his back.

Now, she looks like a girl shopping alone in the market, passing through the mirror-like clear windows on the street, she can't help but stop to admire her beautiful image.Could there be a more natural reaction to a beautiful superficial girl?

Joey adjusted the angle slightly, his eyes did not stay on the bright girl in the glass, and he looked at the bustling Maowei Alley behind him calmly.

Walking along the alley for tens of meters, you will arrive at the bustling Aragon Square.With the square as the center, the streets and alleys extending in all directions are full of rose stalls and book stalls.The floral scent is intoxicatingly sweet.

Oh, what a festive fair this would have been if it weren't for the sullen man in black who was pretending to be looking at the brass rosettes.The brim of his hat was pulled down very low, he picked up a fork absently grasping the serrated end, and swiped it to this side as if unintentionally.

Probably it was written by her "good uncle" Don Carlos. After all, assassination has a distorted beauty, which suits his bad taste.

Joey felt a headache when he thought about the bad debts of the Madrid royal family.

In 1868, the Glorious Revolution broke out in Spain-although it was not glorious at all.The military ousted the royal family led by Queen Isabella II, and found an Italian puppet to be king.As for Don Carlos, who likes to assassinate, that is the son of the queen's uncle Carlos V.Carlos V refused to accept his brother's daughter's ascension to the throne and launched a rebellion; now that the queen has been kicked out, his son Carlos can't help but come out to harass the unlucky Italian who was pulled out to support him. I heard that there is still a force in the north Support grandson Carlos.

Oh, is the name Carlos inlaid with gold?Passed down from generation to generation like a treasure.Seeing a Carlos, you can justifiably swear: "Your whole family is Carlos!"

During the day yesterday, Joey was still an architecture student working hard on his fifth year graduation project.As a result, after the crazy night, when she opened her eyes again, she became the second daughter of Queen Isabella II, Joy Rosa Stellano de Bourbon.

——By relying on the little princess's memory, Joey finally got to know his own name by heart in one night.Rosa Rosa is the rose in Spanish, so relatives call her little rose.

At that time, the princess Rose, who had been spoiled since she was a child, had just sneaked back to Barcelona from abroad-because she was separated from her mother and squandered all the money abroad, she remembered her meager assets in this Catalan city. .

This made Joey have to smile wryly: it’s better to come early than to come by coincidence. No, the bachelor’s degree in engineering that he studied hard for five years is gone.no money.She is new here, just wanting to look for business opportunities in the city, and she may die in the end.

She's not the crown prince, so why was she being targeted?

She narrowed her eyes and carefully calculated the position of the man in black.He stood at the intersection of Cat's End Lane and Aragon Square, like a vicious dog guarding the gates of hell.

She was thoughtful.Apparently, that gentleman doesn't want to create a murder in public just yet.

It was probably because he still had the damn confidence that it would be easy to assassinate a down-and-out princess who grew up pampered by the royal family, without making headlines in the newspapers the next day and ruining his proud job.

But what if Mr. Killer knew that she had found him?

Joey fiddled with the blue polka-dot silk scarf around his snow-white neck again pretending to be intoxicated, and quickly calculated his retreat in his mind.

You can't go out, the more you go, the fewer people there are, and it's too dangerous to be in the hands of the stalkers.

Go to a crowded square?It stands to reason that he would be more sure of getting rid of him that way, but it also meant that he would take the initiative to go to the person who raised the butcher knife against him.If it was a seasoned killer, all he needed was a short dagger in a chaotic crowd, and he would be able to cut off the soft and fresh arteries under the girl's slender neck without anyone noticing.

She was a little hesitant.

At this moment, ripples suddenly appeared in the blue-gray transparent world in the reflection.Joey blinked suspiciously.

With a "click", the window in front of her opened. She was stunned and looked into a pair of light blue eyes, as if she had fallen into the depths of a frozen lake for a moment.

She reacted suddenly, and quickly lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

You look beautiful in the mirror and decorate other people's windows.Is there anything more social than this?

A clear voice sounded, with a hint of casual teasing: "I'm sorry, miss. Compared with your beauty, I'm afraid you've spent too much time looking in the mirror."

Joey: "..." Very well, she knows now, indeed.

That voice had the freshness of a teenager, but also faintly revealed a quiet and mute magnetism, making one unable to help but think of the light blue eyes that had been glimpsed just now, both of which were equally astonishing.

But so what?A mean and vicious guy, never chased a girl before, right?

The momentary annoyance dispelled the panic in his heart, and Joey gouged him with a wink.

Across a few strips of ivy swaying in the wind, a pale boy with chestnut brown curly hair was standing in the window, looking to be in his early twenties.He held a charcoal pencil in one hand, with a calm expression on his face, as if such a rude opening sentence deserved her response.

A streak of rosy paint was accidentally rubbed on the boy's cheek, making his face under the sun almost transparently white.The light blue eyes reflect a brilliant blue-green light in the golden sunlight, and the finely intertwined deep texture on the irises is reminiscent of fossils sunk in the depths of icy lakes.

Although it was a bit embarrassing, Joy had to admit that the boy's beauty took her by surprise for a moment.

Seeing that she didn't respond, the boy who drew the picture shrugged his shoulders: "I think not only I think you've been watching for too long, but the gentleman you're afraid of will probably think the same soon."

Joey snapped back to his senses.

Without the reflection from the glass, she couldn't see what was behind her.A terrifying image of a black-clothed killer sticking up to cut her throat the next moment grabbed her breath.

She shivered, desperately suppressing the urge to turn around: "What is he doing?"

"Well, let me see." The boy didn't move, but tilted his head slightly to adjust his sight blocked by the girl, and at the same time, the hand that wasn't holding the pen rested naturally on the window sill.

There is a little light red mark on the pulp of the finger, like the paint that was not washed off in a hurry.The white fingers are slender and slender.

It is the dexterous hand of the young painter.

"When I opened the window just now, he looked up at this side. Now he took two steps to this side, pretending to smell the rose essential oil in the glass gooseneck bottle at the perfume stand, and was so smoked that he sneezed."

He commented nonchalantly: "He finally realized that he is really out of tune with copper tableware. Of course, the perfume is not much better, after all, he doesn't look like a man who can find a wife."

"You don't look like that either." Joey whispered in Chinese.

"what?"

"Nothing." Joey replied quickly.

She thought for a while, and asked suspiciously, "How did you know that?" Finding that the words were ambiguous, she quickly patched them up, "I mean, how do you know I'm afraid of him?"

"I'm sketching. I have to draw stroke by stroke the places that my eyes might miss in a glance, so I observe everyone very carefully." The young man said it as a matter of course.

oh?Joey tilted his head curiously and looked into the window, and sure enough, he saw the rose market under the sun outlined in charcoal on the top white paper of the picture folder by the window.There are only a few sketches, but the gestures of several pedestrians and stall owners are lifelike.

She is not on the screen.

Noticing this, Joey raised his eyebrows slightly.

The boy's eyes stayed on Joey's long black hair hanging into the window for a moment, and he continued expressionlessly: "By the way, you were standing at the window just now, blocking my view. I was going to wait, but You've been looking at it for too long."

Joey: "...Sorry." We can't get over this, right?

The boy raised his eyes and looked at her.Although he knew that there was a veil, Joey still lowered his eyes guiltily.

She didn't want a stranger to discover the secret of her eyes, even if this person just seemed to have... helped her?

"Just kidding, sorry, I didn't mean to offend. You are obviously looking behind you through the glass, and you look very nervous. What can scare a girl like this at a market in the sun?"

"Hmm...it's okay?" Joey felt a lot better knowing that he was just shaking his lame wit just now.

"You know, painters know the trajectory of light, so if you push back according to your line of sight, you can easily locate the man who obviously doesn't fit in the St. George's Day market." The young man made this conclusion firmly, as if he was talking about today The weather is really nice.

"As expected of a painter's insight." Joey sighed sincerely.

She stretched out her hand with a smile: "Joy. Nice to meet you."

The boy hesitated for a moment, lowered his eyes and held her hand, "Antonio." With a light touch, the hand was retracted as if it had been scalded.

It was like a superficial touch, but Joey felt the thin calluses on his knuckles, which is the most familiar touch for those who learn to paint.She was relieved.

She moved forward a little and lowered her voice: "Sir, can you help me sneak out of here? He may hurt me, I'm afraid. "

Although Joey's actual age is about two or three years older than this boy, but who cares?It is always right to show weakness and hold high for others.

Antonio tilted his head, his bushy eyebrows slightly raised, forming an extremely hateful innocent expression: "But why should I help you?"

Joey: "???"

"You can go to the police. It's just across the square." Antonio was a little puzzled, "Well, if you're afraid, I can go."

Joey couldn't help grinding his teeth.

Dear Antonio, if you can find a match, I will take your last name.

She didn't want to reveal her identity to the police.Although she is just a princess who has not yet grown up and married, she is not a notorious beauty, and the warm and kind Spaniards may not be able to do the crazy actions of those Frenchmen north of the Pyrenees, but Louis XVI and Mary She never dared to forget the bloody lesson of the queen being sent to the guillotine.

If the soft ones are not enough, then come hard ones.Joey's eyes turned cold, and he quickly reached out to the portfolio.

"Wait!" Antonio's face changed suddenly, and he reached out to stop him.

But it was too late.

Instead of sketching with charcoal on the top of the portfolio, Joey quickly pulled out the second piece of paper, squinted his eyes and said with a smile, "Let me see, what is the great artist drawing?"

Not a charcoal sketch, but a watercolor portrait.A dark-haired girl in a white mantilla and an ice-blue silk dress is surrounded by red roses.

Unlike the traditional Andalusian veil, the snow-white lace satin hangs from the mother-of-pearl carved comb, hiding her eyes in a seemingly invisible mist.

"Oh, Mr. Great Painter usually draws models without people's permission?" The girl asked coolly with a warm tone.

She leaned forward, stretched out her fingertips and wiped the boy's fair face briskly.

The embarrassing young painter was already dumbfounded at this moment, and subconsciously closed his eyes, not even daring to hide.

Then, when the girl showed him a touch of rose red on her fair fingertips, her ears became redder than paint.