Chapter 77: The Awkward George
Weighing four hundred pounds, she rested her chin on her hands, the fat spilling out between her fingers. Her eyes were fixed on George on the boat, filled with longing. In her mind, she kept thinking about the knight prince from her dreams, who was on top of her, handsome like George.
As she daydreamed, her face turned red, and she even started to breathe heavily.
This must be a test from the gods. I should have encountered him in my youth and beauty. He is currently blinded by superficial beauty. But true love can overcome everything.
She thought about this, continuing to gaze at George with an infatuated look.
George was seated on the boat, going from calm and expressionless to restless.
Jima secretly laughed to herself.
Finally, George could not help but urge the boatman, “Are there any waterways nearby that large ships cannot enter?”
The boatman said slowly, “There are, but…”
“Here, three copper coins.” Jima took out some change.
“Thank you.” The boatman accepted the coins but did not hurry to row the boat.
“What’s the matter?”
“Uh… uh… They gave me a silver coin and told me to slow down the boat.”
George took a deep breath, “One gold coin.”
“Okay.”
The boatman revealed a simple smile, took the gold coin, and paddled forcefully, sending the boat swiftly toward a nearby waterway.
But a huge pile of small boats suddenly blocked the entrance to the waterway.
The boatman shrugged helplessly, “Guests, the boats are blocked.”
Jima couldn’t help but cover her mouth and laugh out loud.
George turned his head and glanced deeply at Jima.
Jima suppressed her laughter and said, “I suddenly thought of a joke.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Hmm.” Jima nodded, sitting up straight like an obedient student.
Just as George turned his head, he heard Jima’s clear and pleasant laughter, “Hahaha.”
George took a deep breath and looked up, only to see the four hundred-pound woman at the railing. Their gazes inadvertently met, causing her elephant-like legs to tremble, her face glowing as red as the dawn.
“He finally looked at me,” she exclaimed and turned to her maid, “Quick, write this down! Today is the day my gaze collided with George’s, sparking love!”
George hurriedly looked away.
“He’s blushing.”
George took another deep breath and saw the small boats filling the entire waterway, finally unable to suppress a bitter smile.
“Hahaha.”
The laugh sounded almost like crying.
Jima felt extraordinarily pleasant.
Tsk, tsk, who told you to poke me?
Do you think that’s all? Just wait until I become stronger, and you’ll be in for a ride.
The hellish torment lasted for half an hour. The boat, moving at a snail’s pace, finally drew nearer to the shore.
George picked up Jima and jumped ashore, darting toward the inn as if fleeing.
“What a nightmare,” George commented.
“Actually… I have a good idea,” Jima said, placing her hands behind her back, “It’s just…”
“Please, go on.”
“Forget it. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”
Jima turned her face away shyly and said.
The four hundred pounds was an excellent tool—wealthy, powerful, ugly, and constantly flattered by servants and friends, leading to an inflated sense of self-worth. It would help Jima deceive George’s feelings.
But Jima decided it wasn’t the time yet. She would wait until George was at a loss, trapped in a desperate situation, before offering her “help.”
This way, the effect and subtlety would be optimal.
She must not be discovered like the last time when she secretly went to get money.
Otherwise, the punishment would be far more than a simple spanking.
When the inn appeared before them, George exhaled in relief.
He said, “For the first time, it feels like home.”
But George quickly regretted it.
As soon as he stepped into the inn, a servant greeted him with a smile, “Welcome back, my lady’s lover.”
“Lover?” George frowned, “You’ve mistaken me for someone else?”
“How could that be?”
The servant said and then left.
As they were both puzzled, they went upstairs and encountered another servant, who grinned widely:
“Welcome back, my lady’s lover.”
George suddenly realized and quickly grabbed him, “Who is this lady?”
The servant replied, “Your destined wife.”
Saying that, the servant walked away.
Jima whispered, “It’s that four hundred-pound fat lady.”
“Don’t publicly call her a fat lady again.”
Just as George finished his sentence, he saw a short man sneaking around the corner, spying on the two. George glanced at him, and he quickly shrank back, trying to run away.
George stepped forward, grabbing him, “What are you doing?”
The short man was startled and said, “I… I was just delivering some good news from my lady.”
“Hmm?”
“For example, your honor, to protect her reputation privately, teach your servants a lesson.” As the short man spoke, he saw George’s expression darken and turned to flee, “I’m sorry, but she pays too well.”
George’s hand remained in the air, unsure of whether to stop or scold him.
Watching him disappear, Jima remarked:
“Such a touching love story. The four hundred-pound woman, for you, bought off everyone in the inn.”
“By the gods above,” George murmured, “I must change inns, and we need to leave now.”
With that, George quickened his pace, opened the door, and swiftly packed his belongings. The two of them put on a suspiciously shaped hooded robe and slipped out of the inn through the back door, taking the celestial warhorse and escaping.
As they just exited the backyard, they bumped into a stableboy.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “My lady has invited you to dinner tonight.”
George, with his backpack on, grabbed Jima’s hand and took off running.
“Slow down, my lord, slow down.”
Jima was barely able to keep up with George as they ran.
Half an hour later, panting heavily, Jima propped her hands on her knees, her face flushed and her hair damp with sweat.
Jima complained:
“Are we being chased?”
George replied:
“Something worse than being chased; no one ever taught me how to deal with a lovestruck woman.”
“I just want to take a good bath.”
“Right over there is an inn.”
George pointed to a nearby inn.
Jima looked up and froze. How can I say this?
It appeared to have more life than the last place. A two-story building with moldy walls.
The first floor was lively, with sounds of drinking and shouting coming through the broken windows. A dilapidated wooden sign bore the remnants of years gone by; when examined closely, it read “The Pig and the Whistle.”
Jima grimaced, turning away.
“We’re not refugees; can’t I pay for a better place?”
Just then, the curfew bell rang. Jima looked up and saw the evening glow. Thanks to the influence of the Shadow King Arkanis, the curfew had arrived particularly early. Only nobles and those with special permission were allowed on the streets.
She said:
“George, we don’t have much time; let’s find a good place quickly.”
At that moment, a decorated boat appeared a hundred meters away, the very transport of the four hundred-pound woman.
The street extended endlessly, with no small alleys nearby. Since the curfew bell rang, pedestrians hurried home, and soon, they would become highly noticeable in the street.
George quickly tugged at Jima’s hand and headed to the inn.
Jima felt an irresistible force. She silently told herself that this was just a minor price to pay for the emotional deception plan. Experiencing the lively tavern atmosphere to reminisce about hardships wasn’t bad either.
As they reached the door, the shabby wooden door of the inn suddenly swung open, a wave of alcohol scent hitting them. A figure lunged toward them, and Jima quickly sidestepped to avoid it, seeing a man being thrown out and landing face-first on the ground.
The man reeked of alcohol, bracing himself on the ground; he opened his mouth and vomited a large puddle, then collapsed onto the warm pile of vomit.
Jima pinched her nose, seeing a tall, muscular barbarian with a fierce expression in front of the door. He folded his arms and spoke seriously to George and Jima,
“Remember, this is the fate of those who disregard the rules.”
“George, this violent environment is obviously not suitable for my upbringing.”
Jima turned to leave, but the decorated boat was drawing near, and George could even see that “great” figure. He quickly pulled her in, and Jima was dragged into the tavern.
The floor was greasy, never having been cleaned. Layers of stains had accumulated over countless years, the cracks in the floor filled with dark substances. Not to mention the mingled scent of alcohol and sweat, rich enough to suggest they had been tossed into a repugnant toilet.
Suddenly, Jima’s hunger vanished without a trace. In this place, one would certainly consider living a life of fasting.
The barbarian bartender closed the door with care and smugly said:
“Runaway lovebirds? Which noble lady do you belong to? My friend, you’re truly fortunate.”
Jima’s temper flared, her tail tightening as she raised her small fist in protest:
“Not at all! I’m just his—”
“Keep it a secret, thank you.” George interrupted her, grabbing a handful of gold coins and handing them to the barbarian bartender.
A friendly smile immediately bloomed on the bartender’s face.
He took the gold coin and said:
“Presumably, your families must have rivalries. I wish your love could bloom and bear fruit.”
“Bloom your head! Why drag me into this?” Jima protested, being forcibly pulled away by George.
While logically, being misunderstood as a couple on the run favored the “emotional deception” plan, emotionally, Jima felt very unhappy.
Bloom and bear fruit? Curse you for wanting to make me lay eggs like a dead virgin. Someday, I’ll stuff an ostrich egg up your backdoor.
As Jima silently vowed, she complained to George:
“My century-old reputation, and people still think I’m a pure untouched maiden.”
“I’m sorry, you have to make this sacrifice.” George quietly apologized, “If my identity is revealed, she’ll surely find us.”
“Then promise me we’ll only stay one night.”
“I’ll do my best,” George said, “I’ve left a strongly worded letter in the room; once she sees it, she’ll definitely give up.”
“How strong?”
“A real narrative containing insults,” George said, “I was pushed to the limit.”
Jima began to worry about the four hundred-pound tool. We can’t let her give up so easily; such a good tool isn’t so common.
That night, George and Jima settled in a poorly conditioned room.
On the other side.
The four hundred pounds stared at the empty room, dazed.
One of the maids gently said, “Mistress, he has no taste; why bother with him?”
“Yes, yes.”
The four hundred pounds sniffled and smiled, “It’s his scent; how manly.”
As she spoke, she picked up the pillow from the floor, buried her face in it, inhaled deeply, savoring, “It’s his scent.”
The two maids averted their eyes, deciding to find a doctor for the four hundred pounds.
But soon, a wail echoed through the room.
The four hundred pounds held George’s handwritten letter, tears streaming down her chubby face, crying out loud.
She stomped her foot, the floor shaking slightly, cursing, “This heartless scoundrel!”
