mud buddha

"Mr. Roswell, my Nibel, we haven't seen each other for a long time. Haven't you received my letter?" Mrs. Mill greeted him as soon as the door opened, and hugged Nibel's arm.

Mir's house is divided into two parts, one half is used for medical treatment, and the other half is responsible for daily life.As soon as you enter the door, you will see the consulting room. "Mill Clinic" is written on the window, probably written by Mr. Mill himself. The handwriting is as neat and weak as his own.There is a square table in the middle of the consulting room, about two meters long, with hearing aids and some medicine boxes on it, and some documents piled up on the right hand side, which Nibel thinks should be medical records or something.Behind the desk is a large bookcase, and there is a whole new set of "Human Anatomy", more than 40 volumes, perhaps its decorative function is far greater than its actual function.

"It seems that Mr. Mir has gone out?" Nibel received those letters, which were nothing more than heartfelt sweet words. He was tired of reading them, so he was too lazy to reply, and he didn't want to hurt Mrs. Mir's heart in front of her. Simply changed the subject.

"Yes—a new guest came to the city two days ago. He caught a cold or something. It's not a serious illness. Reem is probably coming soon now. But you, if I didn't send someone to send you a message, you might be You don't plan on coming to see me."

"Why didn't I come to see you?" Nibel recalled that when he was with Mrs. Mill, Mrs. Mill was very nervous every time they met, as if her conscience had been tortured, and she always mentioned her husband unconsciously.But since Mrs. Mill became more and more dependent on her, she has become no different from Nibel's former lover, pestering him to talk to each other every day, reciting those old-fashioned love words over and over again.

Occasionally, Mrs. Mill would read poems to him, but unfortunately, these poems came out of the reader's mind before they had time to enter the reader's mind.Every time she finishes reading a poem, she has to comment a few sentences to express her opinion, and Nibel will agree with whatever she says.Every time he nodded, Jane felt that he was perfunctory, saying that he was an elm head, and then hugged his neck and kissed him.

"Looking in the mirror at night recently, I often feel emaciated, and every wrinkle makes me shudder..."

Nibel gently pinched Mrs. Mill's chin, and lifted her face: "Let me see, baby. How is this face different from before? It's the same tight and charming."

"Huh, you can say sweet words, but my letters to you are always in the sea. You are really hard-hearted." Mrs. Mill said so, but she held her hand even tighter, and led him into the living room.

"Excuse me, is that Mr. Mill?" A voice came from the door, and Mrs. Mill turned pale and let go of her hand.

"I see that your door is not closed—" A young man looked inside.Nibel met his eyes, the young man frowned, and asked again.

"Oh, yes—no, this is Mr. Mill's clinic, but he's gone out." Mrs. Mill pulled the broken hair behind her ear, and it took three or four times before she succeeded: "I'm his Mrs."

"Then this—"

"He also came to see Mr. Mill. Unfortunately, he is not here today, sorry."

"Then I'll come to visit another day." The young man put on the hat in his hand, turned and left.

Nibel recalled the look just now. Although the young man had sharp eyebrows and eyes, his sickness could not be concealed.His lips were as pale as his face, but his hair was as red as the red cloth of a Spanish bullfighter.

The young man's facial features were not feminine, but his bloodless face and overly bright long hair made him look fragile and fragile, on the contrary he seemed a bit indistinguishable from male and female.The eyes were lifeless and sleepy, and the eyelashes were lazily drawn, casting a shadow on the eyes.In any case, this is a well-deserved beauty, and that sickness is the icing on the cake, making people want to hold him up and take good care of him.

He straightened his coat and bid farewell to Jane, placing a light kiss on her cheek.Jane also seemed a little upset, so she didn't hold back much.

Nibel strode out, trying to catch up with the young man just now.The Mill Clinic is located at the intersection, and there is a lot of traffic outside the door, and there is no sign of the young man.He took out a stack of banknotes and asked the driver waiting at the intersection about the young man's whereabouts. The driver told him to go to the bookstore street in the market.Nibel thanked him, put the money on the seat behind the coachman, turned and walked towards the market.

Bookstore Street is the place with the most readers in the city, and it is also one of the places Nibel is reluctant to go to.Although it is called Bookstore Street, there are no shops there. It is just an alley. Booksellers get up early every day to occupy their seats, spread out blankets, throw books on it and start selling books.

Although these book sellers are also businessmen, they always feel that selling books is superior to those who sell fish and vegetables, so they have very weird tempers.Those who sell books these days regard themselves as noble as those who read, Nibel couldn't understand.He had had some quarrels with some of the booksellers, but let's not mention them, most of them were about women.

The young man was indeed on Bookstore Street.He is wearing a gray suit. The fabric is the favorite of scholars without money. The style is beautiful and durable, and it is not easy to be washed. The most important thing is that the price is very friendly.Nibel has seen this kind of suit a lot, and it gives a sense of haute couture to young people.The young man was tall, slender, with a straight back, and his hair was tied in a low ponytail at the back of his head, like red vines.

When Nibel saw him he was standing in front of a bookstall with a book in his hand.Nibel sneaked closer and found that the book in his hand was in French, and he couldn't understand a single word.

"You are an expert. This book is in short supply in Paris recently. I managed to snap up these few copies, and now this is the only one left." The book dealer saw Nibel, curled his lips and ignored him , turned to the young man and said.

"It's really good. Wrap it up for me." The young man nodded and handed the book over.The peddler took out the kraft paper and reported a number.

Nibel was secretly looking at the young man's side face, and found that the young man frowned slightly.Doing business is Nibel's old line of business, and his family got rich by doing business, so Nibel quickly guessed that he was out of pocket.He has always been generous, and now seeing that the young man liked it very much, he took out a wad of money and stuffed it into the young man's hand.

The young man glanced down, then pushed his hand back, unwilling to take it, and told the peddler to forget it and buy it next time.

"I didn't bring enough money today, I'm sorry." The young man pursed his lips, feeling that the people next to him were still stuffing money for him, and he clenched his hands into fists.Nibel was lowering his head to compete with that hand. The fingertips of that hand were light white, the nails were rounded, revealing a faint pink color, and there was no extra bulge in the palm of the hand when the fist was clenched, and the joints were clearly undulating.

Nibel gave the money to the peddler, snatched the half-packed books, and ran away with the young man.The young man had no strength, struggled for a while to no avail, and could only be led to run out.Before he ran out of the alley, the young man was panting and his footsteps were weak, so Nibel had to stop.

"Here you are." Nibel shoved the book into the young man's hands.

"You are—I don't need it. I'll buy it later." The young man held his arm and panted.

"I bought everything, and I don't want it if you give it to me. I know that you scholars value books more than anything else, and I am happy to watch you read books. I mean learning or something... You know, although I am not good at it , but you seem to be very happy when you study. How did you say that, giving someone a rose hand has a lingering fragrance."

"You—" the young man realized that the person in front of him thought he was a scholar who had no money but was eager for knowledge, and was already immersed in the sense of accomplishment of doing charity, so he didn't bother to argue: "I'll return the money to you."

"No need, the most important thing I need is money. If you can buy your happiness with money, it means it's worth it."

The young man sighed: "I am Benoit Guy. May I ask your honorable name?"

"Nibel Roswell. Are you French?" The other party's name was obviously not in English.

"Well, sort of." Benoit stood up straight, his face turned blue and white due to the "vigorous exercise" just now, and he felt like he was about to cough up blood.The corners of his eyes were slightly red: "Then Mr. Roswell, I will pay a visit to thank you someday."

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Mr. Mill's clinic refers to Mrs. Bovary, it's a tribute