When the withered grass blades dry up, lose their moisture in the blackened midwinter, and curl up into balls, so-called tumbleweeds begin to roam the streets.
Half of Xiangbai in the evening is bleak, bleak in the mottled and nostalgic city outline. As the scorching sun fades its dazzling brilliance and sets little by little, tumbleweeds chase the gray skyline until they are caught by the bumpy carriage.
The wheel crushed it to pieces.
Just like history repeating itself in an endless spiral.
On the other half of the wall, lights swayed with phantoms, and silver plates reflected attires. Romantic young people changed out of their woolen coats and put on dresses that showed off their streamlined figures. Behind the shadow of the decadent city, prosperity and singing flowed freely.
Decorated with flowers and swords, and France.
This is a ball hall belonging to an aristocratic night, and the light waves of the crystal chandelier are so extravagant and dazzling.
Waiters in black and white tuxedos shuttled around, and the long tables were gradually filled from one end to the other. Expensive fruits, vegetables, meats, red wine, and flowers were picked and tasted according to people's wishes.
No one is paying attention to the food on the table.
It is a social gathering for the purpose of making connections, with the future heroes of Brienne as the core - in fact, the public supporters among them. For this purpose, some high-level celebrities organized this feast.
During this dinner organized by nobles, these second-generation nobles chatted in small groups, or went to the central area to dance lightly with their female companions. Only Bonaparte sat alone in the corner of the hall, mingling with those people.
The military academy cadets are misfits.
Bonaparte's family lineage can be traced back to the Ghibelline nobles of Florence, ancient Italy. He was qualified to participate in this ball, but around him, there was a deserted isolation zone.
He comes from Corsica. In the eyes of the proud French, it is a vassal land in the remote countryside.
He was short in stature and stout in stature, and his military uniform was not appropriate, nor was it suitable for the glorious atmosphere. And whenever someone looked at him with strange eyes, he would stare back with a arrogant expression——
What are you looking at?!
"Spartan Savage!"
One student complained guiltily and quickly left by putting back the red wine.
This thorn in Brienne's reputation is far and wide, he comes from a poor background, is brutal and rude, and even dares to fight with the instructor. No one wants to quarrel with him at this wonderful dinner and lose the calm dignity of the nobles.
Bonaparte had long been accustomed to it. He bowed his head and enjoyed the cold dishes by himself. He was brave and did not resent this nickname, but he resented the arrogant French people.
He is left-handed, and his posture when holding a knife and fork is opposite to that of ordinary people. Even cutting a steak will become a topic of conversation in the corner.
"Why can a poor foreigner sit here? I thought it was a party for French nobles."
"Who knows, when the empire pardoned Corsica, how many capitulation factions it recognized..."
The chuckle did not stand out in the crowd, but it was not loud or small and reached Bonaparte's ears, causing the silver knife handle in his hand to twist slightly.
After all, Corsica is a colony, and the reserved conservatives look down on him, a "foreign native" from the Mediterranean. He has long been accustomed to hearing cynicism, but the "capitulationists" have really scratched a not-so-good scar.
Bonaparte cast his stern eyes over, took a breath and prepared to stand up, intending to feed the two idiots two French sticks, when a crisp greeting came from his side.
"Sir, do you mind if I sit here?"
The gorgeous pink dress is like a blooming peony, and the girl's fair skin reflects a soft but dazzling brilliance under the crystal chandelier.
Her smiling blue eyes reminded Bonaparte of the bay of Ajaccio, where the sea breeze blew in front of him like that, stirring up a quiet and peaceful tide.