Drift [Gone with the Wind Drift Doujin BL]

Forget it, let this willful, stubborn, and disobedient kitten toss it around, do whatever you like...it's all up to you.

No matter what strange and unreasonable behavior you do, it's up to you, it's all up to you.

As General Hood withdrew his troops into the city, thirty thousand soldiers staggered and staggered along Decatur Street, kicking up dust so that the windows facing the street looked as if they could not be wiped clean anyway.

Some women are dressed in gaudy clothes, their painted faces are drunk, and the soldiers on their arms are also very drunk.

Belle Watling's red hair stands out.She clung close to a one-armed soldier, laughing so drunk that even the second floor could hear her.

In the office on the second floor of "Redhead", Rhett looked down condescendingly, and then turned his eyes to the open safe and the drawn drawers.

He sat down slumped, as if he was more exhausted than the Confederate soldiers who fought and retreated without rest for a hundred days in a row.

God, what spell, what curse has that stubborn boy cast upon him?

The shells that had been firing desperately toward Atlanta for some time stopped and the sky returned to a clear, crystal blue color.

In the rare and terrifying calm, Rhett could only hear the ticking of the clock and the irregular heartbeat.

At this time, a familiar footstep resounded at the door, getting closer, getting closer... Every step stepped on his heart that was hard to calm down and tortured.

He turned his head slowly, with the same drawn-out, drawn-out joke: "Today is a fine day, and brave Hood has decided to lead the equally brave Confederate soldiers in strategic Gotta get out of Atlanta. Ready to stay here for the Yankees, baby?"

"Stop talking nonsense, Rhett." There was undisguised sternness in the always calm eyes of the young companion—this made Rhett raise his eyebrows, "Pack up your luggage, let's go."

"Maybe this is the last time I pack my bags before the war ends, baby."

They opened the safe, rummaged through the drawers, burned the documents that should be burned, and separated and hid the documents that could not be burned or kept in the cracks of the wall.

In the end, only harmless paper, pens and ink remained in the drawer.

The cannon fired again, from south of Atlanta.

Rhett listened carefully for a while, then grinned and said, "Our only remaining railway line, the one leading to Macon and Westen, has finally lived up to expectations and fell into Sherman's hands. Atlanta's death knell strikes It's ringing, baby, it seems we have to find another way to get out of this besieged city that Sherman favors so much."

He didn't blame Scott. On the contrary, Rhett, like smuggling the blockade countless times, regarded the most difficult situation as an inconsequential and even welcome adventure.

He packed his luggage, carefully concealed the expression on his face, and said slowly and relaxedly: "Even if you are pretending, you should express your concern for Tara, right?"

Scott said blankly: "Jonesboro is a full ten miles from Sloppy Town, and the Yankees won't hit Tara. Even if they go to Tara to rob me, I don't worry about it—Tara's overseer is Northerners, Sherman's army will not starve its own men."

"Honey, today you are extra cruel and funny."

Is it extraordinarily cruel... Yes, the artillery fire flying overhead made the blood of Scott's soldiers boil.

He became as hard as iron.

Bell Watling staggered up the stairs, she was drunk and made a harsh voice: "Oh, Rhett... what should I do... the Yankees are coming... "

Scott supported her and let Bell sit in the chair Rhett gave up.

"You don't have to worry, you don't even have to do anything, Bell." Everything that scared Bell out of his wits was nothing more than a glass of strong drink to him, "The Yankees won't eat you, they don't grow You don't even have hooves on your arms. Just let your girls hide in the house for a day or two, and then double the price." Rhett went to his pockets, trying to get a handkerchief for her to wipe her face. It took him a while to remember that each of his handkerchiefs fell into the hands of Scott, who never carried such necessities of life, for various reasons.

Scott silently praised his companion.

Only he can face the hellfire that is about to sweep everything, and still joke around as if nothing had happened.

"You're leaving, aren't you, Rhett? For God's sake..." Bell burst into tears, his voice was piercing and shrill, "For God's sake, take me away..."

Rhett took the handkerchief from Scott—I don’t know which piece the boy “possessed”—wiped Bell’s tears and said, “Be a brave man, Bell, you’re safe here, follow me.” It's dangerous. Get down now, your girls need you."

"Now, I need to get a means of transportation." Rhett went downstairs with light steps and strides.Scott could picture those shining black eyes behind his back.

The horses that Rhett had stolen were not very good: two horses, small, thin, and lame, like child soldiers in battle.They hung their heads listlessly, their ribs protruding high like reliefs, as if they were about to puncture the horse's hide.The horse's back was worn to pieces, panting like...like...not a horse anyway.

"It's not good for the animals, is it?" Rhett was still smiling, and he carefully concealed his ruthless grimness with his smile. "It looks like it will die in front of Miss Pitty's porch soon. But this is already what I can steal." Best horse ever, and I nearly escaped the rightful owners of these poor beasts."

The army opened the warehouse, and they told people to take as much food as possible, so as not to fall into the hands of the northern army.

But there were too many supplies to take away, and the Confederate officers and soldiers had to burn them.

A faint red light appeared above the treetops, as if the sun had risen.After a while, the black sky turned pink and then dark red.

Shrapnel fell to the ground one after another, and a huge tongue of flame rose into the air, creaking and licking the sky.

Those things that caused the loud explosions were probably the ammunition that Rhett and Scott smuggled into the blockade.Uniforms, boots, blankets, bacon, dried beans, tons of flour and cornmeal—all were burned.

The raging fire made the Atlanta night sky as bright as day.

Amidst the sound of the earth crashing and the piercing and terrifying flames, two men and boys who could have left earlier walked down the steps side by side.

Both were well-dressed in well-tailored white linen trousers, with embroidered moiré vests of the same style by Parisian tailors, Scott's modified pistols on their belts, and tucked in pockets. Full of ammo.

The only difference between the two people's attire is that Rhett is wearing a wide-brimmed Panama hat in a chic way, while Scott has tied his long hair that was too late to trim into a ponytail, which flutters in the wind behind his head.

Rhett turned his head and found a pair of green eyes burning.

The shock wave from the explosion ruffled his hair, and Scott was like a stone statue at this moment.

Dressed in splendid attire, they stepped into a red night full of misery, heat, filth, explosions and burning, as if they were entering a brightly lit ballroom.

The author has something to say: [Comprehensive Classics] Traveled all over Europe to disassemble CP

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