The days of eating soft rice in London

The old Mr. Wharton stood on the high platform and began to address everyone.

The low shelf in front of him was filled with silver-white hanging buckets, which contained sugar-coated chocolates and flowers of various colors. Those chocolates were exquisitely crafted and looked expensive.

The host of the ball, Edward Wharton, is an Italian. Italians love to drink white wine, and they pay special attention to the place of origin and the year of brewing.

After he finished a bunch of polite words about entertaining guests, he took the opened wine bottle from the waiter, showed the labeled side to the guests, and gave a detailed introduction.

The waiter obeyed Mr. Wharton's instructions and handed the cork to the first customer, and asked them to take turns to look at the date on it to show the degree of old Mr. Wharton's preservation, the quality of the bottle, and his enthusiasm for them. hospitality.

Shrewd merchants also poured out flattering compliments, marveling at the quality of the wine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's not talk about those annoying trifles in the business world for the time being!" He said loudly. The beard on his face trembled.

All the people present also followed him and raised their wine glasses high, giving out a cheer.

Oscar was just about to taste the difference of this Italian white wine, but at this moment, he was hit by a fake butt pad of a pretty woman next to him, accidentally spilled some white wine, and even splashed on his leather shoes.

The old businessman, who loves wine like his life, saw clearly from the high platform, and immediately cast a dissatisfied look at this place.

Just when Oscar was feeling at a loss, he suddenly felt his hair being gently pushed back, and his ears felt cold.

Mr. Lewis smeared the baijiu spilled from the rim of the glass behind Oscar's ears with his fingers.

He was startled and felt a cool touch. Oscar turned around and asked, "Louis, what is this?"

The other party slightly leaned his tall body close to his ear, and said in a low voice: "Italians regard spilling wine as an unlucky symbol, and doing so can lift the curse."

"I see." Oscar nodded in embarrassment.

Mr. Lewis knows so much, he doesn't understand these customs and etiquette at all.

Looking at the Italian old man again, the expression on Mr. Wharton's face really softened.

Oscar silently covered his hair.

The men at the banquet began to look for beautiful dance partners, and the waiters also pushed the low carriage carrying chocolates and flowers into the crowd.

Louis and Oscar sat down on the sofa beside them, avoiding the bright lights and lively crowd, and discussed the taste of white wine.

"How do you do, Mr. Morris?"

Oscar turned his head, and a woman was walking towards them.

Sauron has been watching the two of them since he entered the door.He liked the tall young man with all his heart, especially his deep black eyes that shone in the shadows.

Anyone who caught his eye was at once attracted by the uncommon enthusiasm they emanated, a passion so rarely displayed by an English gentleman.

It's just that the hot emotion will only be revealed when looking at the blond young man.

Louis took a look at him, a different look flashed in his eyes, and then disappeared in a blink of an eye. "Good evening, ma'am."

"Look who is this? Mr. Adrian? I've heard your name for a long time." Sauron showed a surprised expression.

Long heard of the name?How could he be famous?Oscar was puzzled.

"Hello."

He saw the woman examining him carefully.

Sauron was still smiling coquettishly. The young man in front of him had blond hair that looked like the brightly colored waves of a tulip, but at this time his hair was docilely combed back, revealing a clean white face, not to mention those seductive eyes. There are eyes of God.

Look, look, no wonder Louis Morris liked him.

"I've heard that you came to London," Sauron said to Louis, "speaking of which, today is the first time I've seen you."

"Yes, I have been in London for nearly a month."

Sauron picked up the wine glass, took a sip along the edge of the glass with his big red lips, and put on a shy expression: "Can I show you the face and dance?"

"My honor, ma'am." Louis stretched out a gentleman's hand, biting the word "lady" in a meaningful tone.

The person called "Miss Sauron" smiled generously, without the slightest embarrassment of being exposed.

Seeing that these two people had an affair almost instantly, Oscar felt that he was very redundant.

The waiter also happened to pass by pushing a cart full of flowers, with bright red roses, six-colored geraniums, crimson begonias, dahlias, anemones, and bright impatiens.At first glance, it looks like a colorful palette in the hands of a painter.

"Oscar, which one do you think is better for me?" Louis asked.

"Maybe..." Oscar looked at it, "This one?" He picked out a tall black flower.

The gentleman frowned slightly and took it over.

black tulips.

The language of flowers is - melancholy love.

His flashing negative expression quickly disappeared, and he took it with a slender hand, and said to Oscar with a smile: "You have chosen well, I like it very much."

Turning around, he gave the flower to the woman opposite.

Both of them walked towards the center of the dance floor with satisfied smiles.

The woman in the narrow floor-length dress just now put her hand on Louis' shoulder with a smile, and Mr. Louis's hand also wrapped around the woman's slim waist.The woman took a step forward, turned around, and turned her back to Oscar, who could see her exaggerated buttocks with hip pads.

The string of red gemstones around her neck looks very weighty. Under the gemstones are the pleats inlaid with embroidered collars. The skirt is made of silky satin. The gorgeous lace on the skirt gives people a classical orthodox impression. The pair of white court shoes on the feet.

Her attire was perfectly suited to the extravagant and lively atmosphere of the evening, and she looked too good for Mr. Louis, Oscar thought.

She has a luxurious and elegant ladylike demeanor.

He has a gentle gentleman character.

Incisive and rhythmic pace rhythm guides them, they dance foxtrot, elegant and generous, light dance steps, attracting the envious eyes of others.

And Oscar sat alone in the corner, like a lonely wallflower.

Oscar lowered his eyes. He took a sip of the wine, but his eyes suddenly caught Camille by the railing on the second floor.

Mr. Louis said that this is a private commercial ball, how come Camille will also come?

The two people on the dance floor were happily enjoying their ambiguous atmosphere, Oscar stood up and looked around involuntarily.

He walked up to the second floor and stood in front of the huge vase by the railing.

Miss Camille was holding the arm of a strange man, talking excitedly to the other two, but she didn't notice him at all.

Oscar stood like a palace guard, gazing humbly at the large jar in front of him.

"When you go to France, remember to write to me often," he heard Camille say.

"Okay, kitty."

"And bring me a gift."

"What do you want?" the strange man asked.

"I want a jeweled tiara like the Queen of France's, and her beads."

Camille suddenly turned her head and glanced at Oscar over here, muttering something, then turned to the three young men.They resumed their old conversation, about shopping in France, and the young lady occasionally glanced over her shoulder at him to get a better look at his face.

Even though it was meaningless to stay here, Oscar still stayed here.

After standing stupidly for a while, he was about to turn around slowly and walk away when he heard a playful and joking voice from the end of the corridor: "I'm going to turn off the lights!"

The upper floor of the hall was immediately plunged into darkness.

In the darkness, Camille and the man's figure immediately hugged each other, making blushing clicks from the gap between their mouths.

Oscar stared up at them, eyes burning with pain and anger, fists clenched.

More and more I found myself to be a wretch driven and fooled by vanity.

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