The outdoor flowers and shadows of willows are lush and green, while inside, everyone is staring at each other, feeling awkward.
Rosie Scott had a smile in her eyes, casually glancing around, secretly pleased: Can't handle it already? This is just the beginning.
If ever the Anderson Family has a peaceful day, it's because I'm not trying hard enough.
Charles Anderson's dark eyes flashed with a moment of surprise, smiling lightly without speaking; Assistant Hugh became his voice: "Miss Scott, Mr. Anderson is someone who values etiquette greatly. Before marriage, it's most appropriate to just use names."
"Is that so?" Rosie Scott pursed her lips, lowering her eyebrows as if troubled: "But, upon meeting him today, I felt such joy in my heart. Blame it on me, I'm used to being straightforward at home, just eager to confirm our relationship with Mr. Anderson."
"Uh...Miss Scott, actually you..."
"It's okay." Charles Anderson interrupted Assistant Hugh, ending the farce. The man with delicate white hands picked up a jade spoon, calmly taking spoonfuls of shrimp porridge into his mouth: "Whatever Miss Scott wishes is fine."
He could still manage to smile.
Though Rosie Scott got what she wanted, her momentum mysteriously faltered.
"See, Mr. Anderson doesn't look like a traditional person. What's wrong with calling someone 'wife'? It's the 21st century now, Assistant Hugh, you're too old-fashioned."
Rosie Scott's eyebrows and eyes unfolded like a painting, her cute nose and cherry lips were quite mischievous. The young girl had a small frame, and while drinking porridge, the sleeves of her knitted cardigan were bunched up at her elbows, revealing a segment of slender milky white arm.
Charles Anderson looked at that small arm, a barely noticeable smile on his lips, thinking would it snap if squeezed?
Assistant Hugh dared not make a sound, knowing both these individuals were not to be trifled with.
He wiped the sweat from his brow; he didn't dare look at Mr. Anderson's face. Originally, he thought, since Miss Scott previously wanted to die rather than get married, she must be a virtuous and resolute woman. Little did he know, upon seeing her today, it was like heaven and earth had switched places, virtually without any boundaries.
Who calls someone 'husband' upon a first meeting? And keeps calling...
"Husband, what kind of books do you usually like to read?"
"Husband, you like drinking shrimp porridge, huh."
"Husband, your hands are beautiful, and you're good-looking too."
"..."
After a meal, everyone in Anderson Castle was like ants on a hot pan, growing timid at heart towards this boundaryless woman; Butler Mr. Gold led Rosie Scott to get settled, while Assistant Hugh was called into Charles Anderson's study.
Catching the light from outside, small specks of dust became illuminated in the study, and the incense rising from the desk brought a calm and comforting atmosphere.
However, Assistant Hugh stood in front of the desk, trembling with fear.
"Mr. Anderson, Miss Scott seems unrelated to this matter. Is it not..." not good to involve her?
"I've never been infatuated with the love between men and women, it's merely decorative." The man put the book he finished reading back on the shelf, his slender fingers running over the spines, his gaze cold and devoid of emotion.
Jack Hugh, as his assistant, knew everything about Mr. Anderson. The reason he wanted Rosie Scott as a decoration was because Miss Isabella Scott used him in the past to attach herself to the Anderson Family's eldest son.
Mr. Anderson always avenges small grievances.
Rosie Scott is Isabella Scott's cousin.
So his intention to marry Rosie Scott was never pure.
"Are we still attending Miss Isabella's concert tomorrow?" Jack Hugh asked cautiously, knowing ever since Isabella latched onto the Anderson Family's eldest son, mentioning her name before Mr. Anderson had been done with great care.
"Attend, and bring Rosie Scott along."
"Huh? Yes."
The atmosphere in the study was cold and frosty, and Assistant Hugh felt his palms start to sweat.
Knock, knock, knock—sudden knocking alerted the overly tense Assistant Hugh, who reacted like a cat with bristled fur.
Who would dare knock on the study door, risking their life?
Mr. Anderson detests being disturbed, and even cleaning the study is done by Assistant Hugh.
The door opened, and before the person appeared, a voice was heard: "Husband~"
"!!"
"!!"
Upon hearing the voice, Assistant Hugh wished to push the girl out by her head. When he saw the bowl of bone soup in her hands, his hair almost stood on end.
No soups or liquids were allowed in the study, not even tea!
Charles Anderson's eyes were expressionless, his dark eyes stared at the girl's crescent-shaped eyes; he was adept at reading minds, and from the moment she entered, he knew this girl harbored ill intentions.
The girl carried a bowl of warm bone broth, with a layer of oil on the surface, and a bone the size of an arm inside, seemingly beef bone, with the bowl bigger than a face; Assistant Hugh couldn't stop her, and she sauntered in so boldly.
Rosie Scott carried the steaming bone broth with both hands, walking eagerly closer, her voice soft as if steeped in honey, with a charming smile: "Husband, I made bone broth for you, drink it for nourishment."
However, the next second, the girl tripped her left foot over her right, causing the bowl of bone broth to arc through the air, spilling all over Charles Anderson, who was seated in a wheelchair.
Σ(ŎдŎ|||)ﾉﾉ
The soup soaked the man's white shirt and the blanket covering his legs, he gritted his teeth, and before he could speak, a bone dropped from the sky, hitting his forehead with a "duang".
The man's forehead immediately swelled.
Rosie Scott suppressed her laughter; the scene was much funnier than she had imagined.
"Oh dear, I'm sorry, husband, I'll...I'll clean it up for you, it's all my fault." The girl pulled a towel from her pocket, and then squatted by Charles Anderson's side to wipe him down.
Charles Anderson's dark eyes focused on the towel in her hands, was she prepared for this?
The man took a deep breath, and the air seemed to freeze.
His white shirt turned transparent from the soup, and the girl halted briefly while wiping his chest, then continued down to his abdomen. Startled, when she attempted to lift the blanket, her wrist was caught by the man.
"Don't dirty your hands." Charles Anderson's voice was like mountain spring water, warm and devoid of anger: "Jack."
Assistant Hugh was startled back by Mr. Anderson, hurriedly pushing him away from the dangerous woman.
The girl stood still, watching Charles Anderson leave the study, with a charming smile swirling in her eyes.
Is he a Vicious Dog or a little Shiba Inu, trying would reveal it.
Know yourself and know the enemy, and victory is assured.
Charles Anderson, you pointedly chose to marry me, what was your true intention?
——
Rosie Scott returned to her room. She closed the door and immediately took out her phone to search: How do paraplegics develop chest and abdominal muscles?
The answer provided by Baidu was quite on point, saying nothing: Where there's a will, there's a way.
The corners of the girl's mouth twitched, truly it was like listening to a noble talk was like listening to a noble talk.
Charles Anderson was not to be seen at either lunch or dinner; when Rosie Scott asked Mr. Gold, all she got was a cold reply: "Regarding Mr. Anderson's matters, unless he personally informs, others shouldn't inquire."
As the sun set, the sky quickly darkened.
Rosie Scott felt like taking a bath and was quite surprised upon opening the closet to find so many dresses, none of which had their tags removed; she picked a comfortably textured one to wear as a nightgown.
Half an hour later, the girl exited the bathroom, and the lights, previously bright in the room, suddenly went out. Her hand paused, still towel drying her hair.
There was a second person in the room!
"Who?" Before Rosie Scott could move, the person approached directly, and with a dizzying motion, she was thrown onto the bed.
"Help... mmph mmph..." The girl's mouth was taped shut, the assailant had considerable strength, evidently a man, easily capturing her wrists and tying them to the bedhead with nylon rope.
Rosie Scott kicked her leg towards the man's crotch, but halfway through the motion, a large hand pressed it down, and the man snorted coldly before tying her legs as well.
Just when she thought the person pressing down on her was a rogue sneaking into her boudoir, he actually left.
Utterly ridiculous!