Chapter 51 : Gwa, This Is Exactly What I Wanted to See!
Just as Eve was about to ask what on earth she ant, Vivian moved first. She felt tired from talking while looking up, and her emotions were not very stable either.
She suddenly stood up — not onto the floor, but onto the chair. Her left foot, wrapped in white stockings, stepped onto the armrest as well.
The whole motion was smooth and fluid. The little thing abruptly beca taller. Although Eve did not react in ti, her half-lowered eyes automatically tracked the target and lifted slightly.
“Young Miss, that is dangerous.”
“That is none of your concern!” Vivian’s face was full of pride. Now she was taller than the other party, hmph!
“Now look into my eyes and answer wo—ah—!”
Before she finished speaking, all her weight rested on the armrest. The chair suddenly tilted and shook, and she fell straight toward the white-haired maid.
CLANG!
...
The chair collapsed, followed by a dull thud of bodies hitting the floor. At the sa ti, outside the double doors of the Study, several tightly stacked figures jumped in fright.
The maids, who had been stacked together holding their breath to eavesdrop, scattered half a step like startled sparrows — then imdiately crowded back again, pressing their ears against the door.
“Hiss... has it already started?”
“Gwa! I grew these ears just to listen to this!”
“Miss really likes that newcor. If only I were her.”
“Cuddle cuddle, hehe (slurp) it is cuddling hehe...”
“Hey! Sister, wipe your drool! It is dripping onto my head!”
This was the most extre faction within the maid group — and also the most united one. What they loved most was shipping the Young Miss and that newcor.
“Quiet down,” Sylvia said from the side, adjusting her monocle.
As expected of the Head Maid — soone who had seen the world.
She then cleared her throat, slowly rummaged through the pocket of her skirt, her smile and eyebrows curving together, and finally wiped away the tears spraying from her eyes with a handkerchief.
Yes — spraying. Like a faucet, endlessly pouring out.
Faced with this scene, she could no longer describe her feelings with words. A sense arose in her heart as if her own child had finally grown up.
On one side was Vivian, whom she had watched grow up. On the other was Eve, whom she treated specially. Both were like children she had carefully nurtured.
“That is wonderful... truly wonderful... The Young Miss has been single for eighteen years since birth and finally made a friend,” she said, wiping her nose in relief.
The stacked maids forgot to continue eavesdropping and stared blankly at the deeply moved Head Maid.
“By the way, is it really okay for us to be listening? What if we get caught...”
“Relax! I doubt it will end anyti soon inside.”
They looked at each other, abandoned their professional ethics, nodded, and pressed their ears back onto the door.
If harmony existed outside, then inside the Study was a completely different scene. The only similarity... was the stacked position.
Vivian looked left and right, feeling sowhat dazed from the fall. It did not hurt — in fact, beneath her was sothing soft... wait... what she was touching was soft too.
She hurriedly lowered her head. Her breathing stopped for half a second, and her furrowed brows relaxed.
In her sight, the maid’s white hair was like snowfall. Winter could descend upon the world in a single night — she only needed a second.
The strands spread across the floor. Though ssy, it lost none of its beauty.
Fortunately, the lace headpiece held most of it in place, leaving only a few strands crossing those red eyes, flickering as if they carried a faint shimring effect.
The famous writer [Youzi Mao] once wrote in an article that disorder was also an art of behavioral beauty. Vivian now believed it.
Only then did she realize she was sitting on Eve’s lower abdon, one hand bracing against the ground, the other holding the artificial cushioning pad labeled F.
“Young Miss, I believe this is not the ti to be spacing out. What do you think?” Eve looked at her, then at the hand that refused to move.
The little hand seed sowhat improper.
......
“Young Miss, if you truly wish to, I suggest you stand up first. You can knead them afterward.”
Eve’s final sentence — [you can knead them afterward] — echoed in the silent Study. Their breathing remained calm and slow, yet each harbored different thoughts.
Vivian’s hand remained where it was. Even through the maid uniform, she could clearly feel the soft and overly full contour beneath.
Eve lay on the floor, simply waiting. No emotion could be read from those red eyes as she waited for the other party to continue.
After a long while,
Vivian finally moved.
But instead of standing up, she slowly withdrew her hand and placed it on Eve’s cheek.
The motion was gentle. Her fingertips slid from cheek to chin. Leaning forward, her shadow covered the maid’s face completely.
Combined with her straddling posture on Eve’s abdon, the scene appeared strangely... ambiguous.
Eve froze for a rare mont. Her single-threaded mind could not comprehend sothing she had never experienced, nor could she recover quickly.
“I must admit,” Vivian said softly, almost as if speaking to herself, “your appearance truly resembles a work of art...”
Her fingertip stopped at the corner of the lips. Her thumb gently rubbed.
Eve blinked. “Thank you for the complint, Young Miss?”
“Do not move. I have not permitted you to get up yet.”
“......”
Vivian added, “Do not worry, I have no intention of punishing you. There is no need to resist.”
The maid beneath her gave no reply, allowing the hand to continue stroking her face.
Vivian continued, “You are rely a servant, yet why do you attract my curiosity and attention... especially those eyes of yours...”
She bent closer. Their noses were nearly touching, breaths intertwining.
!!!???
...
“Wait, why did it go quiet?” the bottom maid muttered, moving her numb legs.
“Strange, I cannot hear either. Did it end? That fast?!” another whispered above.
“Shh!”
Beside them, Head Maid Sylvia had already taken out a second handkerchief — the previous one was completely soaked. She adjusted her monocle, murmuring sothing under her breath.
Judging by her lips, it was probably sothing like [this is youth, this is growth], while lanting that she was already past thirty and had missed — and would never again experience — such monts.
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