Chapter 106: A Lame Excuse

Timms is a typical British countryside village, with ochre brick and stone walls showing the mottling of time; two-story gabled cottages stand with strings of blue-purple delphiniums and various geraniums and lavender growing along the walls. The lawn is lush green, and the garden teems with all kinds of small creatures; Yang Yi often hears birds singing and insects chirping.

Everything appears quiet and peaceful.

Yang Yi likes this kind of environment; if she ever retires, she might use this atmosphere as a reference to arrange her own cottage and yard.

She has been here for three days already: on the first day she was unconscious, on the second she lay in bed all day with a confused mind, and on the third, she was awakened by the chirping of birds; two plump, endearing little birds had landed on the windowsill, pecking at grains in a food dish.

It had been a long time since she had such a moment full of rustic charm and leisure; waking from a nightmare to see such a lovely scene, her stagnant heart instantly calmed, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

The two furry little creatures pecked at the grains for a while, chattered and communicated for a while, then suddenly spread their gray-yellow wings and flew away.

Yang Yi felt a sense of loss, and her calm state of mind flew away with them; worry and confusion surged into her heart once again.

She shook her head to shake off the troubled thoughts, went to the bathroom, and took the opportunity to see what she looked like now.

She was wearing a set of old-fashioned clothes, very simple: black loose trousers and a white knitted sweater that was very oversized, appearing baggy on her body. These must be Miranda's clothes.

Her appearance in the mirror was somewhat unfamiliar, yet somewhat familiar.

At that time, the situation was too urgent; the only reference person she thought of when changing was Zhang Zhang Ningning, her only female friend with whom she had a relatively good relationship. The face in the mirror was only 30% like herself and 70% like Zhang Zhang Ningning—if the genes of the two were mixed, perhaps the person created would look exactly like this.

Zhang Zhang Ningning was a delicate and cute little beauty, with a round face, round almond-shaped eyes, a high nose bridge, and a cherry-red small mouth; her face was rich in collagen, her expressions were vivid and lively, and once you got to know her, you would discover her cheerful, lively, and cunning personality.

However, Yang Yi's expressions were always few, sometimes even slightly stiff and dull; these cute facial features, set upon her lean and flat contours, lacked liveliness and added a few degrees of naivety, making her look several years younger than her actual age. She also had an underdeveloped, flat figure; with this, she looked exactly like an innocent and confused young girl.

No wonder Miranda's gaze toward her overflowed with maternal love and was full of sympathy; even the sharp and hard-to-approach Thomas agreed to take her in—this face must have contributed greatly.

As long as others could not recognize her from her current appearance, Yang Yi was satisfied.

Miranda was watering flowers in the garden; Yang Yi also wanted to go out for a walk, tried getting out of bed, and found the wound no longer hurt. She pushed aside the gauze to look; the wound had healed at some point, leaving only a faint scar.

She gave a self-mocking smile, rewrapped the gauze, and walked out the door.

"Frisa, why have you come out? Does the wound still hurt?" Miranda looked at her disapprovingly. "You should rest well so the wound can heal faster."

Yes, because of her "amnesia," Miranda had also given her a name—Frisa; she said it meant happiness. "Poor Miss, you look very melancholy; let's call you Frisa, I hope you can be a little happier." She said this then, full of maternal affection.

"It's much better already; I feel that moving around helps with recovery." Yang Yi reached out and took the spray nozzle from her hand.

"Your accent sounds like it's from the Kingdom of Aka; can you remember anything?" Miranda asked. Her graying hair was neatly coiled at the back of her head; her speech was gentle, and her movements elegant and slow, completely unlike a servant.

"I... I don't know..." Yang Yi blushed. This old woman had always held goodwill toward her, yet she kept lying; with every extra word she spoke, her guilt increased by a fraction.

She lowered her head, not daring to look directly into Miranda's gentle gaze.

She could face the most vicious and terrifying monsters in another world without changing her expression, yet she dared not look directly at even a tiny bit of warmth someone released toward her.

"Don't worry, child; it's not too late to speak when you remember. Sometimes we indeed do not wish to recall some bad past events." Miranda patted her back; her brown eyes were full of tolerance, yet her words seemed to carry a hidden meaning.

Yang Yi somewhat suspected that her so-called "amnesia" was not believed not only by Thomas but also by this old woman; they were simply being polite and unwilling to expose it. They probably saw her pitiful appearance back then, assumed she had some tragic past she did not want to face, and thus tolerated her "amnesia" story.

Thinking of this, she felt even more awkward and uncomfortable all over.

Miranda, however, seemed to have noticed everything and continued gently: "Just right; once your injury heals, you can help me with some work: weeding the garden, watering the flowers, cleaning the house, and so on. Mr. Thomas, although his temper is a bit... hard to approach, is actually very kind by nature; you need not fear him. He has no special requirements regarding food; sometimes, when working, he forgets to eat or sleep, completely immersed in his artistic world. At such times, you must disregard his anger and sharpness and firmly demand that he eat—this disobedient child has already fainted twice due to low blood sugar!" Upon saying this, Miranda was both angry and worried, yet her tone still contained uncontainable indulgence and pride.

"Mr. Thomas is a painter and sculptor; he has enjoyed a great reputation in the art world since he was very young. He is somewhat reclusive, dislikes socializing, and is always immersed in the artistic world and his own thoughts; you just need not disturb him. The second floor is his bedroom and studio; when going up to clean, be gentle with your steps, otherwise he will get angry again..."

Miranda, like any elderly person, loved to chatter; it seemed Thomas's reclusiveness had stifled her quite a bit, and she poured all her accumulated words onto Yang Yi.

Yang Yi listened silently, occasionally responding with a sound.

"When Mr. Thomas is not working, every morning after breakfast he takes Timms for a walk in the forest—look, he is back now!"

Yang Yi followed Miranda's gaze and saw a slender figure slowly returning from the country road leading to the forest; a golden retriever with brown-yellow fur ran back and forth constantly in front of and behind him.

Entering the garden, Timms ran over and circled around Yang Yi once.

Yang Yi had disliked dogs since childhood; when Timms circled around her, she only slightly furrowed her brow, but when it approached to sniff her, her displeasure rose.

Timms suddenly shivered, as if startled by some fierce beast, immediately tucked its tail and fled from her side, hiding behind Thomas and whining incessantly.

Miranda looked at Timms in confusion. "Good dog, what's wrong?"

Yang Yi was also somewhat surprised by its reaction.

Thomas watched this scene with cold eyes; his thin lips moved: "It seems this Miss, whose origins are mysterious, has some secret..." He swept his gaze over her entire body with an X-ray-like stare; the gaze was utterly unreasonable, and finally his line of sight stopped at the wound on her waist and abdomen, his eyes shifting slightly.

"Since your injury has already healed, then you should leave." His tone was cold.

"Thomas, she has amnesia and is now homeless; we should help her! Moreover, her wound hasn't fully healed yet; look how badly she was injured that day!" Miranda, puzzled by his suddenly changed attitude, quickly spoke up.

"Oh—come on, Miranda; we all know this is a lame excuse!" Thomas's tone was impatient; his brown-green eyes contained mockery. He said ruthlessly: "As for whether the wound has truly healed or not, she should know herself."