dmims Chapter 684 Shopping.
Chapter 684 Shopping.
Ah, so they are husband and wife, then the tenderness hidden in their previous interactions is even more natural.
Come to think of it, it's been a while since I mentioned Gangi and Annie.
All in all, this trip to India was quite successful - they followed the footsteps of the monsoon through the narrow alleys of Delhi's old city, watched the sandstone of the Red Fort glow with warm copper light in the sunset, and even luckily encountered a herd of migrating wild camels on the edge of the desert in Rajasthan.
Anne always said that this was the closest she had ever been to the "foreign land in the story". Her blue eyes were always shining, as if they had absorbed all the sunlight along the way. When she turned to look at Gangi, the light became a little softer.
But there is one thing that she still hasn't figured out.
That day they were walking around the market in Jaipur. She was squatting in front of a stall selling hand-painted kites. Her fingertips had just touched a kite with a peacock pattern on it. When she stood up, she was not paying attention and bumped into a woman in a turmeric sari walking towards her.
She was about to say "sorry" when she saw the woman suddenly lower her head, her shoulders slightly hunched, and she walked past her quickly, almost sticking to the wall. The woman's silver anklet made a small sound on the stone pavement, but she never looked up at her.
This wasn't the first time. A few days ago in Agra, she was standing by the Taj Mahal's fountain, taking photos. Gangi was holding the camera, helping her adjust the angle. A few young men carrying copper pots passed behind her. Their laughter suddenly subsided. Their brows drooped, their backs bent like reeds in the wind, and they tiptoed past her as if she were an untouchable statue.
"Gangi, look at them..." Anne tugged at her husband's sleeve, confusion clouding her blue eyes. "Am I in the way? They seem... afraid of me."
Ganji helped her pick up the bag of spices she had just bought, and swung the rose-patterned cloth bag on his wrist.
He looked up at the figures who were hurriedly walking away, then turned back to look at Anne - her golden hair was a little messy due to the wind, a few strands stuck to her smooth forehead, her eyes were as blue as the sea they had seen during their honeymoon in London, and she was completely unaware that her European face, in the eyes of some locals, actually carried an almost "sacred" distance.
His Adam's apple moved, but he finally just smiled. He reached out to tuck the strands of hair behind her ear, and his fingertips brushed her cheek with a hint of warmth. "It's nothing, they're just... shy. Look at the kites on that stall, how brightly colored, would you like to pick one? You said you wanted to bring gifts for the neighbor's children, and this is perfect."
He didn't say that those bowing and bending movements concealed the awe and alienation towards "white skin" left over from the old times; nor did he say that he was afraid that Anne would frown and blame herself if she knew the reason - she was always like this, and couldn't bear to see others being restrained because of her, even if this restraint had nothing to do with her.
"That's not your fault," he whispered in his heart, but he was more afraid that the light in her eyes would dim because of this heavy "specialness".
The sunlight stretched their shadows very long. Annie was indeed attracted by the kite. She ran over with a smile and turned back to wave at him:
"Come and help me see which pattern is more unique!"
Ganji followed behind, looking at her back, sighing softly, but his eyes were as soft as melted honey - as long as she could keep smiling like this, it didn't matter if he kept some things in his heart for her.
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the other side,
"As expected, the little girl is cute and looks beautiful no matter what she wears~"
Miss Truth took two steps back, tilted her head and looked at Inara in front of her, gently tapping her chin with her fingertips, with an unconcealable smile in her eyes.
She had just changed Inara into a goose yellow cotton dress with delicate white lace sewn on the neckline and a few clusters of lavender daisies embroidered on the hem. The stitches were as neat as the newly sprouted grass leaves in spring.
She also found a pair of beige leather shoes and helped Inara tie the shoelaces into a small bow. Now she looked like a porcelain doll in a glass cabinet - delicate, yet a little fragile and tender.
Inara sat obediently on the little chair, her little hands unconsciously pinching the lace edge of her skirt, and she blinked.
Those eyes were a very beautiful blue, not the translucent light blue of the clear sky, but like the Aegean Sea mixed with crushed silver. When the corners of the eyes drooped slightly, there was always a bit of ignorant innocence; the eyelashes were long and thick, the same red as the hair, and when they drooped, they cast a small fan-shaped shadow under the eyelids, like a butterfly wing gently resting there.
Her red hair was also naturally curly, not the big waves that were deliberately permed, but like small rolls just taken out of the oven, sticking fluffy to both sides of her cheeks, with the ends slightly curled up. When the sunlight shone on it, it glowed with a warm golden-red luster.
Coupled with her skin as white as a freshly peeled egg, and even the tips of her ears are a little pink, she really looks good in whatever she wears - when she tried on that light pink dress before, she looked like a rose bud; when she changed into a plain plaid skirt, she looked like a well-behaved girl who walked out of a picture book.
Miss Truth couldn't help but reach out and gently pinch Inara's cheek. The soft touch made her laugh out loud: "Our Inara is a little princess. She can make any outfit look better."
Inara shook her head when she pinched her, and smiled innocently, her eyes curved into two crescents, and it seemed as if stars fell in the blue.
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What a lovely and heartwarming scene! The sun shone through the glass windows of the shops on the street, casting tiny specks of light on the ground. Inara, wearing her new light yellow cotton dress, was tiptoeing to reach the glass sugar jar in the window, the red curls at the ends of her hair swaying gently with her movements.
Miss Truth stood by and smiled as she helped her straighten her collar that was messed up by the wind. Her fingertips were still stained with the lace thread that she had touched when she was tying a bow for Inala.
Even the air was filled with a sweet smell, like freshly opened fruit candy.
However, this warmth did not last more than ten minutes.
"I said, can we go back now?"
The sudden male voice was like a piece of ice thrown into warm water, instantly breaking the warmth.
Mr. Reasoning stood three steps away, his brows twisted into a knot. The coat that was originally draped over his shoulders had long been replaced by various shopping bags - three lace-patterned paper bags hung on his left arm, two bundled clothing boxes were wrapped around his right arm, and even his wrists were covered with several small plastic bags containing socks and hairbands. The colorful bags hung down, almost covering his legs.
Miss Truth suddenly turned around and glared at him, the smile in her eyes instantly disappearing: "Why do you have to pour cold water on me now?! Inara just saw a little apron, let's go take a look and leave."
"Look?" Mr. Reasoning raised his arms, his shopping bags rustling against each other. "Since ten this morning, you've said 'look' in seven different places." He glanced down at the things hanging on his body, his lip curling even more sharply. "I seriously doubt I'd even look like a human being from across the street. I'm just a walking pile of shopping bags, I guess."
He really felt wronged.
Miss Truth was taking Inara around with great interest, her eyes shining as she picked out clothes, but the job of carrying things fell entirely on him.
Just now, when he passed by the glass window, he caught a glimpse of his own shadow - he was carrying a large canvas bag on his back, his arms were full of bags, and even his hair was a little messy, just like a porter who was "kidnapped" by the goods.
This isn't shopping, it's weight training. (=_=)