plumnovel Chapter 5 Good Bread and Bad Bread
Chapter 5 Good Bread and Bad Bread
Even after Fiona left the warehouse, Levi's words still echoed in her mind, causing ripples to rise again in her heart, which had just calmed down.
Going to see Boyle, the baker who sees her as property and is now offering a reward for her capture, is tantamount to putting one's head in a bear trap.
Fiona did not immediately head towards Boyle's shop, which smelled of bread.
She took a deep breath of the cold, salty air, forced herself to calm down, then turned and walked without hesitation into the depths of the dock area.
Li Wei is right, one person cannot accomplish anything alone.
Before entering the lion's cage, she needed to visit another beast.
……
The sign for "Green Dragon Tavern" was barely visible in the gloomy sky.
Fiona pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a murky heat wave mixed with cheap rum, sweat, and tobacco hit her.
The tavern was dimly lit and noisy, crowded with dockworkers who had just finished their shifts. Their conversations and curses were mostly in Gaelic, a language Fiona was familiar with.
One-Eyed Finn was sitting at a corner table, drinking alone in silence. Fiona walked straight over and placed the packet of "instant tea soup" that Levi had given her on the table.
Finn raised his good eye, looked at Fiona, and then at the rough burlap sack.
"What is this?" His voice was still hoarse, clearly from being at sea for too long.
"It's a drink. A friend asked me to bring it to you as a thank you for taking care of me that day," Fiona repeated the words Levi had taught her.
He said this stuff can make a man stand up straight in winter, better than cheap rum.
Finn squeezed the tea bag and brought it to his nose to smell. A strange, fresh, herbal scent filled his nostrils. His expression shifted, a complex light flashing in his single eye.
Instead of thanking him, he slammed his glass down and lowered his voice.
"What does your friend do?"
"Businessman."
"A businessman?" Finn sneered. "Young lady, there are only two kinds of people in Boston these days: lunatics and those planning to run away. Which kind is your friend?"
He leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"Stay away from those 'Sons of Liberty' bastards. They think they're the masters of this land just because they poured tea at the docks last night. All day today, they've been trying to recruit people and cause trouble everywhere. Anyone who doesn't join them in chanting slogans is a 'king's dog' and will be paraded through the streets covered in tar and feathers."
"And then there's your former employer, the baker Boyle. He went to the British patrol early this morning and reported three neighbors, saying they were sympathizers of the 'Sons of Liberty.' Those three were arrested this morning."
The one-eyed, burly man's lips curled into a mocking smile. "He's terrified, terrified those lunatics will settle scores with him. That's why he's clinging to the British more than anyone else right now. Going to him now is no different than walking into a slaughterhouse."
Finn's words made Fiona's palms sweat, and the little flame that had just ignited in her heart flickered uncertainly.
Fortunately, the fear only lasted for a moment. Li Wei's calm face and the word "family" reappeared in her mind.
She suddenly realized that Finn was right; Boyle was afraid.
But a person who is extremely fearful is also someone who desperately wants to grasp at a straw.
This is not a dead end, but rather a better opportunity.
She stood up and nodded solemnly to Finn: "Thank you, Finn. This packet of tea is on me and at the master's request."
After saying that, she turned and left the tavern, leaving Finn alone, clutching the packet of tea leaves, his eyes unreadable.
……
A delicate brass bell hangs on the door of Boyle's Bakery.
Fiona didn't take the back alley she was used to. Instead, like a true VIP, she straightened her skirt and pushed open the gleaming oak front door.
"jingle!"
A crisp bell rang.
Mr. Boyle, who was wiping the silver trays behind the counter, looked up, and his expression froze the moment he saw who it was.
Shock quickly transformed into a twisted ecstasy and fervor.
He recognized her! That Irish slut who stole his bread and dared to run away!
Boyle opened his mouth, about to shout and call for the shop assistants and the sheriff outside.
But he couldn't make a sound.
Because the guest sitting next to him turned his head.
He was a British lieutenant in a crisp red military uniform, his young face bearing a hint of aristocratic arrogance and impatience, the sash on his chest standing out conspicuously in the dimly lit shop.
The lieutenant frowned in displeasure as he looked at Fiona, who had suddenly barged in.
Fiona's heart was pounding wildly in her chest, but there was not a trace of panic on her face.
She completely ignored Boyle, and instead, facing the British lieutenant, gracefully lifted the hem of her skirt, slightly curtsied, and performed an impeccable ladylike bow.
Her voice was clear and crisp, carrying just the right amount of aloofness and arrogance, echoing in the quiet shop as she looked at the baker.
"Excuse me, is this Mr. Boyle, renowned far and wide for his unique insights into the art of baking?"
One sentence left both Boyle and the lieutenant stunned.
Fiona's demeanor, tone, and aura are completely different from the "dirty maid who steals bread" on the wanted poster.
Boyle's mind went completely blank. He didn't dare to point it out immediately, fearing that he might have mistaken the person in front of the lieutenant and offended some "important person" he couldn't afford to offend.
The lieutenant frowned. He put down his whip and looked at Fiona again.
Although the girl was dressed in simple maid's clothes, her calm and composed demeanor was something that ordinary servants could not possess.
Boyle's hesitation is Fiona's opportunity.
"My master, a distinguished guest from the Far East, has heard of your profound knowledge of the tastes of Boston's high society. He has specially sent me with a small gift, hoping to discuss some business matters concerning 'loyalty' and 'wealth' with you."
She deliberately emphasized the words "loyalty" and "wealth," and the words reached the ears of both men simultaneously.
For Boyle, this was both a blatant threat and a deadly temptation.
To the lieutenant, it sounded more like a secret rendezvous between royalists.
The lieutenant's impatience quickly faded, replaced by a strong sense of curiosity.
Fiona placed the exquisite box of "Oriental Awakening Powder" on the counter and gently pushed it over.
"My master said that truly noble people should not associate with fanatical mobs, much less drink their cheap rum that tastes like horse piss."
"This small gift is only worthy of a loyal subject of the king."
These words made the British lieutenant's eyes light up, and he immediately reached out and picked up the small metal box.
Upon opening the box, a cool yet powerful fragrance, unlike anything he had ever smelled before, wafted out, instantly clearing his head, which was still somewhat groggy from a hangover.
The way he looked at Boyle had completely changed. His gaze no longer held contempt or impatience; instead, it held a hint of inquiry and seriousness.
How could this ordinary baker know such a person?
Boyle stood there, cold sweat trickling down his fat cheeks and soaking his crisply starched collar.
He's now in a very precarious position.
If he were to expose Fiona now and admit that she was the runaway maid, it would be tantamount to admitting to the lieutenant that he was not worthy of associating with any "distinguished guest from the East".
All the connections he just boasted about were lies; he will lose face in front of this officer.
But if he follows Fiona's lead, he will know nothing about the mysterious "master" and the road ahead will be full of unknown risks.
Fiona seized the moment of his hesitation and spoke again, her tone softening and carrying a perfectly appropriate apology.
"It seems I've arrived at an inopportune time, interrupting your important business, sir and officer. My master awaits your reply at the warehouse on the North Wharf."
"My master believes that a wise person who can distinguish between 'good bread' and 'bad bread' must also be able to distinguish between 'good timing' and 'bad timing'."
After saying this, she bowed to the lieutenant again, looked at Boyle again, and turned to leave calmly.
The bell rang again, crisp and clear.
In the bakery, a British lieutenant was playing with a box of "energizer" with great interest.
Boyle pulled out a handkerchief and frantically wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his gaze flickering between Fiona's disappearing figure and the lieutenant's bright red uniform.
After turning the corner, Fiona leaned against the cold brick wall, her legs gave way, and she almost collapsed to the ground.
She was breathing heavily, but her blue eyes shone with an unprecedented light.
Unbeknownst to her, behind a window on the second floor across the street, Li Wei was slowly putting down his rifled flintlock musket, a faint smile on his lips, muttering to himself.
"Who says big breasts mean no brains! Looks like I'm in luck, the test is over."