4. A Rose Dedicated to Dio (4)

How did you know my name? Did Dario tell you? Diao asked casually.

Mumuye nodded. "Yes."

Diao had no intention of explaining to her what he had done after waking up. He only ordered her about, saying, "In a little while, you’ll come with me to gather some firewood. That’s what we use every day to cook and boil water."

Mumuye stared blankly. "Huh?"

Her face was full of pure, innocent confusion. "You mean go outside and pick up wood?"

Perhaps Diao was in a good mood, because he showed little impatience at her bewilderment. "Of course we’re going outside to gather timber. Where else do you think it comes from? Do you imagine we buy it with money? At a time like this, surely you’re not still dreaming such childish dreams."

The lovely little face before him fell at once, and she said gloomily, "Then what about our water? Do we have to draw it from the Thames too?"

Diao gave her a sidelong glance. "As you said, water is full of germs. So the water we use is bought well water. If you want to drink water that’s full of filth and corpses, I don’t mind either..."

He had not even finished speaking before Mumuye rose on tiptoe and covered his mouth, pleading softly, "Stop talking."

Her hand was very soft, and seemed to carry a faint scent of food.

It must have been an illusion.

With a blank expression, Diao pried her hand away.

The two of them left the house.

Diao did everything with swift decisiveness, while Mumuye moved like a turtle, slow in everything she did.

Before Mumuye could even complain that they had entered a brutal survival mode and that daily life was even worse than farming in the countryside, Diao turned his head and said coldly, "Right now you’re little better than dead weight. If you still can’t move faster, I’d rather lose three shillings."

Mumuye knew this fellow would absolutely do as he said.

The little failure burst into tears and hurried after Diao, treating it as exercise.

He carefully avoided the filthy water in the streets and panted as he ran. Unfortunately, his legs were shorter than Diao’s, and the man had no intention of waiting for him, so he could never catch up.

That was simply the state of his physical condition; how could sheer will possibly change it?

His pace gradually slowed. When he really could not go on, he simply gave up running altogether.

If Diao wanted, he could beat him to death. If he beat him to death, he might as well switch worlds. Even if he were left by the roadside, he could still find his way home, and who knew—maybe he could even have the system change him into a wealthy identity.

Thinking it through like that, he instantly felt at peace and walked even more lazily.

By the time Diao had only just turned a corner, the little failure was already nowhere to be seen.

He: "..."

He had thought the fellow was frail, but he had not expected him to be this weak.

Diao’s expression darkened in an instant, the veins on his forehead twitching.

He was not only irritated by Mumuye’s troublesome existence; there was also another matter...

In the slums, this filthy and chaotic place, there were not only poor and idle vagrants, but also plenty of vile scoundrels.

Here, sin bred and suffering was indulged. The splendid balls of gentlemen and ladies were built upon the blood and tears of the poor. Yet the numb masses dared not rise in resistance; instead, they brandished whips and used violence against those weaker than themselves.

Joseph was one of those filthy men who liked to steal chickens, pilfer dogs, and do other such low things in the slums. He did not want to work in a factory, and he could not find a job anywhere.

Since he could not afford to provoke the big shots in the rich districts, he relied on his sturdy build to threaten children and trick them out of food or a few scattered pennies.

Perhaps today was a day God favored him. Look what he found by the roadside.

A lovely little Easterner.

She had exquisite, beautiful features, the proper black hair and black eyes, and skin as white as snow. She looked like a doll in a shop window.

Greed rose in him. If he could sell this child to some wealthy lord, or even to one of those famous establishments, he would be clothed and fed for the rest of his life.

Joseph looked left and right, and saw no adult beside the girl.

Just as he reached out to touch her shoulder, his wrist was suddenly seized in a death grip, and a wave of searing pain shot through him.

With a cry, Joseph let go at once.

The blond boy holding his wrist in a vice stared at him coldly. His scarlet pupils seemed ready to drip blood, and the look in his eyes was no different from that of a dead man.

Joseph was struck with fright. He actually flinched so hard at the sight of a half-grown child that his heart seemed to contract.

And this blond little brat had monstrous strength. Joseph even vaguely remembered him; he seemed to be the local leader among the children in this area.

Like attracts like. He could tell this was also a natural-born creature of evil.

"Don’t even think about what isn’t yours. The police may not care about East London, but if children keep disappearing for no reason here, they can’t possibly ignore it forever."

How many parents would go mad for the sake of their children? If they stirred up a joint riot, that would be troublesome.

A case like that had once happened in East London, and ever since then the constables had treated such matters with great seriousness. They had no intention of losing their comfortable posts over one or two brats.

Joseph’s face twitched as he glared viciously at Diao.

Diao raised his middle finger at him. "Idiot. You’d better watch yourself lately. Scum disappearing in East London isn’t exactly rare."

The malice on his face was even stronger than John's, his eyes full of mockery and contempt.

After all, he was someone who, even at such a young age, had already drawn a pack of bad children to follow him. Those brats gathered together to do who knew what, and sometimes even a grown man would keep his distance upon seeing them!

Joseph was so frightened by him that he fled in a panic, scrambling away on all fours.

In a narrow path, the wicked win.

Mumuye clapped enthusiastically, the sharp crack of her applause darkening Diao’s expression by another degree.

Even though Diao did not care about making enemies, the fact that he had gotten into a confrontation with someone for Mumuye’s sake made him feel irritable.

But Mumuye was, after all, property of the household. It would be a pity to lose her too easily.

"Diao, thank you for saving me. You’re such a good person."

The girl’s innocent thanks sounded especially harsh in Diao’s ears.

A good person? Such a rotten evaluation was practically the greatest insult to him.

With a cold laugh, Diao said, "If you can give me a little less trouble, that would be the best thanks."

Mumuye obediently fell silent.

This time, Diao slowed his pace a little, so that an unexpected incident would not delay them instead.

The road was uneventful, and there was still some distance to the small woods beyond the city. Diao asked, "Why aren’t you afraid?"

Earlier, when he had witnessed Dario’s violence, the little failure had gone white in the face, and even her red lips had lost their color. Yet this time, after he had used such terrifying and wicked words to threaten that man, she could remain perfectly calm, and even praise him.

Mumuye said matter-of-factly, "Because you were helping me. I’m not so ungrateful that I can’t tell right from wrong. Brother Diao, I know who is good and who is bad."

Diao did not believe her. "If you really could tell, you wouldn’t have come to my house with Dario."

Mumuye: "..."

The two of them reached the grove. Diao lectured the little failure earnestly: "Remember to pick dry firewood that’s easy to carry. Stay on the edge; don’t go too far. And don’t go into the woods proper. You’d better stay within my line of sight."

Mumuye nodded vigorously like a pecking chick.

Though Diao still did not really trust her, he did not want to waste time either.

Just before turning away, Mumuye suddenly called out to him and asked in a bright voice, "Brother Diao, then why did you help me just now? You clearly hate me."

Diao very much wanted to tell her not to call him brother, but on second thought, he decided it was not a bad way to establish his position, so he lazily replied to her question, "You represent my face when you’re outside. You belong to my family, and I can use you. Why should anyone else be able to use you?"

Mumuye said nothing after that.

In his heart, he cursed Diao many times, but on his face he still looked innocent and cute, pure and guileless.

They gathered firewood for about half an hour. Mumuye’s pile was a complete mess, but Diao stacked his very neatly, even binding the logs together with vines from the woods.

Fortunately, Diao had never expected much from Mumuye. After tying up the three bundles of firewood, he took one in each hand, and tossed the lighter bundle at Mumuye’s feet for him to carry himself.

There were plenty of children gathering firewood in the woods. They could not do heavy work at home, so they could only take on the lighter tasks.

Where Diao brought Mumuye to gather wood, no child dared come within ten miles to snatch anything.

Mumuye thought to himself that, as expected of a villain, even at such a young age he was the chief of scoundrels.

He saw Diao wave toward one direction, and at once a half-grown child ran over quickly. He was also a very common sort of child from the slums, ordinary and unremarkable.

The boy glanced at Mumuye beside Diao and froze for a moment, but still listened to Diao first.

Diao told the child to go fetch water from the Thames and bring it back to their house. The child obediently agreed.

Mumuye asked in surprise, "Brother Diao, didn’t you say that water isn’t clean? Why draw it back?"

Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.

"Isn’t there still one person at home? He’ll come back sooner or later. If we filter the clearer water again, won’t it be usable for him?" Diao said calmly.

He turned around and looked down at Mumuye, the smile on his face fading slightly. "You’re not planning to tell that old bastard about this, are you?"

Mumuye hurriedly shook his head even harder and swore to the heavens, "Brother Diao, don’t take me for a fool. I still have to live under you. How could I possibly betray you?"

Diao snorted. At least she knew her place.

The two of them carried the firewood home. For Diao, that little bit of weight was negligible.

But for Mumuye, he was exhausted, and his stomach had been crying for food the whole time.

Diao was not as eager as he had been on the way there. On the return trip, he moved at an unhurried pace, even watching the little failure’s effort with composed leisure.

Mumuye knew nothing else, but when it came to holding grudges, he was exceptionally adept—he had already written down Diao’s countless crimes in his little notebook and would never easily forgive this hateful fellow in the future.

At last the two of them arrived home, and after a short rest they would have to begin cooking.

Poor families were always like this, busy all day long merely to fill their stomachs, with almost no spare time for anything else.