Deep sea mermaid head-to-head strategy

It turned out that it wasn't that there was no one in the living room, but that they were all sitting on the sofa, which Klein couldn't see from the angle just now.

"Who asked you to get these extra things?"

It was Sweet who was speaking. He had showered and changed, and was sitting on the armchair with his shoulders stretched out, his eyes closed and his blond hair curled up in displeasure.

Wenger's voice came: "You celebrate your birthday, don't human beings have to celebrate their birthdays like this? I still think this is very simple and not worthy of you."

Klein had a feeling that when Wenger said the word "human", there was an obvious repulsion and mockery in his tone, and he couldn't help wondering—isn't he himself a human?

Ferguson tossed an air elemental ball between his hands, followed the elemental ball with his gaze, and took the time to say: "I also have such an interesting way to celebrate my birthday. You are the protagonist today. You don't need to do anything, just leave it to us." , you just have to enjoy it."

The blond hair was smooth and slipped from between the fingers. Sweet sighed helplessly and said, "It's up to you."

Ferguson wished that others would not intervene in his entertainment, so he let out a cheerful "Oh".

Sweet was always well-mannered, and it was the first time Klein saw him look a bit uneasy while relaxing.

A few buttons on the neckline were unbuttoned and opened. When he raised his hand, his bent arm formed a leisurely angle. His chin was slightly raised, revealing a clear jaw line. His blue eyes were half-closed loosely. full of energy.

Seeing a side of Sweet that he had never shown before, Klein outside the window unconsciously raised the corners of his mouth like Ferguson.

He bent down and picked up the bracelet, thinking: Maybe Sweet dropped it here by accident.

Whether this yard is big or small, it's normal not to find it.

Of course, Sweet would not tell him that the bracelet was lost, but who would go to inform him if he lost a gift from someone else?

He happened to find it, and he just returned it.

In a blink of an eye, Klein felt relieved and felt that the swan brooch was more suitable for Deville, so he put the chain into his pocket and turned to pick the flowers.

He had already figured out how to wrap the swan brooch—three ice-blue petals in a fan shape, and pin the brooch at the overlapping ends of the petals, so that it looked like a swan. Taking a rest among the sea of ​​flowers, Sweet may like it after seeing it.

Klein had just walked between the window and the flower bed, and Locke, who was sitting on the couch with Wenger and had folded his arms and crossed his legs since just now, spoke.

He interrupted the discussion between Ferguson and Wenger abruptly, asking, "When will that bumpkin come back?"

Klein stopped hesitantly.

"Who's the redneck?" Ferguson asked.

Locke let out a "ha" and sarcastically said, "Who else is there besides Klein?"

When he saw Sweet bringing Klein back in the afternoon, he was already very upset. He endured it again and again, and now his patience reached the limit. He finally broke out and asked irritably, "I really don't understand, Wenger, what are you doing?" What kind of tricks are you playing? Knowing that I hate him and still asking me to invite him to stay, are you deliberately torturing me?"

Wenger put his hands down and said with a smile: "Why are you so angry? Today is Sweet's birthday, so don't disturb the situation."

"In what game can he be on the stage with him?"

Saying that was not enough, Locke lowered his crossed legs, cursed in a low voice, and said, "I've had enough of him. Sweet, where the hell did you find your bumpkin friend? He's risking everything from top to bottom. Cheesy, I can't stand breathing the same air!"

"It's just a vulgar word, but it can be tolerated," Wenger smiled slightly, glanced at Sweet, tapped his fingers on the sofa, and said seemingly unintentionally: "It's him who sees Sweet. The look in his eyes is really uncomfortable."

"Eyes?"

"Ah, didn't you notice? He couldn't even roll his eyes when he saw Sweet, and he wanted to stick to Sweet." Wenger shrugged: "But it's also understandable. It's true that Sweet looks like this. Attractive."

"You mean he—" Locke was stunned for a moment, then understood, his eyes widened, he stood up abruptly, and said in astonishment, "How dare he—?! He deserves it even if he doesn't look at himself?"

Wenger only opened his head, and Locke automatically remembered it, and suddenly said "Oh", "I understand, he wants to curry favor with Sweet! No wonder he rushes to help build fish ponds and repair flower beds, it must be Sweet Their attitude is too good to be targeted, and a pot of rotten fish and rotten shrimp can be exchanged for so many gifts, so he and that old man are going to be happy, right?"

"That's enough." Sweet's tone could not be heard, and the eyes like sea water swept across Locke and Wenger.

Wenger sneered, the corners of his mouth curled up, but there was no smile in his eyes, and he said mockingly: "No, Sweet, don't you really consider him a friend? You know, we and He's different."

"You don't need to remind me of this."

"Oh, I thought you'd lived here so long that you'd forgotten how vile they are."

Sweet: "..."

Ferguson stopped bouncing the ball, realizing something was wrong even with his rough nerves, and asked in bewilderment, "Are you talking about Klein? You hate him so much, why did you invite him over?"

Locke asked inexplicably, "What do you want to do?"

Not only them, even Klein who was standing outside the window wanted to know the answer.

His whole body stood as rigid as an iron plate, like a frozen ice sculpture, and the biting chill pierced through the top of his head and the shape of his feet, which made him tremble on a midsummer night.

Wenger smiled, looked past Ferguson and Locke, and landed on the blond boy sitting on the sofa, and said briskly: "Tonight's birthday party is short of such a clown, isn't it, Sweet?"

"..."

Klein leaned against the wall by the window, and vaguely heard Sweet's "hmm".

It was as if a bucket of ice water was pouring down his head, and the water contained ice shards, which made his face burn and hurt.

The voices in the room continued, but he couldn't hear them. His heartbeat and tinnitus blocked his hearing.

There was only one thought left over and over again: what on earth did he do to be humiliated by them like this?It's fine to just humiliate him, even grandpa...

The bracelet in the pocket was very light, but at this moment it seemed to be extremely heavy, half of his body was bent sideways when he fell, and the luck he had picked up the bracelet a few minutes ago was shattered by the words just now.

Klein couldn't tell whether he was ashamed or angry. Although his heart was cold, there was a burning pain in the back of his neck. His body was trembling uncontrollably. The muscles in his shoulders and ribs were suddenly tightened. It hurts.

It turned out that this was how Sweet looked at him every time he dangled excitedly in front of him.

How happy he was to say a word to Sweet once, how embarrassing it is now.

When he was finally able to let out a trembling breath, the room had already chatted for a round.

Locke looked out the window: "Why hasn't he come yet? Could it be that he's preparing some dirty gift again?"

Wenger was also tired of waiting, and ordered: "Patton, go to his house to see."

Patton leaned over and looked at Sweet with a questioning look. Sweet was silent for a few seconds and said, "Go and tell him not to come."

Parton was instructed to walk towards the door, and Locke hurriedly turned to block Parton: "Why don't you come, didn't Wenger say that he specially prepared a show for him?"

Ferguson felt dizzy: "Wait, wait, isn't Sweet the protagonist of the birthday party? Why can't it go on without Klein now?"

Klein had already walked from the window to the door, put his hand on the doorknob, smiled wryly when he heard this, took a deep breath, and pushed the door in.

The entrance door creaked, and the sound in the room stopped abruptly.

Locke's high-spirited expression froze on his face, and Wenger's smile froze for a moment.

But it was only for a moment, and he immediately switched seamlessly to his usual kind appearance, got up from the sofa, and asked with concern: "Klein, why have you been away for so long? We thought you were not coming, and we were going to find you .”

Klein almost admired Wenger.

If he hadn't heard it with his own ears, even if he killed him, he would never have thought that Wenger would say such a thing.She loathes him so much and looks down on him, and she can still hug him shoulder to shoulder without showing any emotion, talking and laughing happily.

It's a pity not to be a drama actor if I can control my emotions to this extent.

Klein is well-known in Port Paloy for his good temper and popular popularity. Except for the little friction with Dick, he has never blushed and quarreled with his friends, but a good temper does not mean that he has no temper.

He did not extend his hand to Wenger's olive branch as usual, but smiled and said, "Of course I want to come. How can I spoil your interest because of a clown."

This sound fell, and the big house felt like an ice cellar, and a needle could be heard falling. Locke took a quick look at Wenger.

After the initial embarrassment faded away, Klein calmed down instead. In the blink of an eye, he went through the events of this period quickly, and found that he didn't seem to lose his temper easily—

He liked seeing Sweet enough to volunteer to help.

Whether it's flower beds, fish ponds, bracelets or fish soup, in Sweet's eyes, they are worthless and comparable to rubbish, but at least he gave himself enough face on the surface, and just saved his life.

It's his own lack of vision and wishful thinking, not a person from the same world, insisting on getting up, causing so much trouble for Sweet, and in the end, even grandpa will be troubled by him and be hated by others...

Wenger rolled his red eyes and pretended to be stupid: "What are you talking about, Klein?"

Klein's heart was empty, his scalp was tense, and his face was a little bit tense. He walked to the table, leaned over and put the brooch with two-color flower petals on it, and said, "It's not very pretty, but it's It's the best I can take out... well, it's okay to throw it away, I... I won't stay and celebrate with you."

After finishing speaking, he straightened up and walked to the door, remembered something, turned around and said, "Don't worry, Grandpa and I didn't mean to curry favor with you, from now on... I won't come again."

After Klein finished what he was supposed to say, his chest didn't loosen much, and he still breathed like a ball of wet cotton.

He didn't look at Sweet the whole time, and only accidentally glanced at him when he looked back. At that moment, Sweet's hand on the back of the sofa seemed to tighten, as if he wanted to stand up.

Klein closed the door for them as politely as possible, keeping the silence of the room behind him.

As he walked out of the courtyard along the gravel road, he thought to himself, it was too late for Sweet to hide from him, how could it be possible...

He didn't even want to think about it, shook his head, and walked out of the yard quickly as if he was afraid of being overtaken by the ridicule in the room, and his figure disappeared into the night.

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