Overnight, the names of the three giant cruise ships appeared in the major newspapers in London, almost to the point of being known to everyone. Before the construction of the three cruise ships had even begun, people had already begun to ask about the cruise ships' sailing routes and how tickets for first class would be sold.

Mr. Ismay, the owner of the three cruise ships, has not known how many banquet invitations he has received in just a few days.

He had previously consulted with Carl Hockley that if this strategy worked, he would hand over to him the supply of all rivets on the three ships. And it turned out that this strategy was not only effective, but also more than expected!

He instructed his assistant, "Send this power of attorney to Mr. Hawkley." ”

Just before the assistant left, he stopped the other party again and asked, "I heard that Mr. Hawkley is not engaged yet?"

The assistant paused for a moment, then replied respectfully, "It is said that this is indeed the case." ”

Ismay lamented that she didn't have a daughter, then waved at her assistant and told him to leave.

……

Rose stood on the dresser, and the maid stood behind her, pulling the rope around her waist for her.

"Miss, take a deep breath. ”

Rose took a deep breath, and the maid took the opportunity to jerk the rope behind her, and she coughed at the sudden tightening of her waist, and a subtle hint of repulsion flashed in her eyes.

The maid brought her an expensive, well-cut, and beautifully made dress, which Rose put on, and then sat down at the dresser and let the maid play with her hair.

Mrs. Bookett entered the room at this moment, and she said with a look of surprise: "My daughter, you are so beautiful today. ”

She took Rose's hand, pulled her up from the stool, and then pulled her around, "That Mr. Hawkley's heart will surely be captured by you." ”

Rose smiled a little forcefully.

Mrs. Bookett seemed to see that Rose was not interested in the matter, and she immediately advised, "Don't do that, Rose, you know, we have not been the same since your father died. I've seen him, and believe me, you won't find a better young man in the whole of London, and you won't hate him. ”

Rose asked rhetorically, "If he really has as good as you say, where will he get my turn?"

The Buchter woman shook her feather fan, and said, "Of course, it is by the friendship of your father, and old Hawkley is glad that you will marry his son, and I ought to show you what he told me in the telegram." ”

"Yes......" Rose replied absentmindedly as she stroked her freshly curled hair in the mirror.

Mrs. Bookett clapped her hands, "My good Rose, Mr. Hawkley is about to come and fetch you to the opera, whether he came of his own free will or was forced to come by a telegram from old Hawkley, you must give me a good fare, be ladylike, and do not make those inferior actions in Mr. Hawkley." As long as he falls in love with you, it's easy to say. Remember?"

Rose was depressed, and she said a few perfunctory words and sent Mrs. Bookett away.

A car with gold edges on a white background stopped in front of Bookett's private house, and the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door for the person sitting in the back. A young man dressed in khaki clothes stepped out of the car, holding a gift box with a base area about the size of two palms.

A few maids came out of the private house and welcomed the young man in. The young man handed the gift box to a maid, who leaned down with the corner of her skirt and retreated.

Qiao Heng looked at the decoration of the private house without a trace, it was no different from the homes of other people in the upper class, extravagant and luxurious, who would have thought that under the surface of this luxury, the owner of the house was already in debt and could not make ends meet.

Mrs. Bookett descended gracefully down the stairs, she was tall and thin, with only a slightly longer neck. The lady smiled and said, "Good day, Mr. Hawkley." ”

As she spoke, she raised her hand.

Qiao Heng held her hand and kissed her on the back of her hand.

"Good day, Mrs. Bookett. My father mentioned you, and he asked me to say hello to you on his behalf. ”

"Nesson, he's always so polite. Come, sit here. ”

Mrs. Bookett looked at him appreciatively, and with such a brilliant youth, Rose would surely be satisfied. She said, "Rose, the boy is a little shy, and I have to trouble Mr. Hawkley to wait a little longer." ”

Qiao Heng said calmly: "It's okay, I'm waiting for her here." ”

Mrs. Bookett said, "I heard that you have a good relationship with Mr. Ismay, who has been in the limelight lately?"

Qiao Heng said noncommittally: "It's just that there are some business dealings." ”

Mrs. Bookett: "What a young man. ”

At this moment, there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs.

It was a woman with reddish-brown hair, she was wearing a white dress, a pair of silk gloves of the same color, and her expression was a little dignified. She walked to the middle of the stairs, stopped her downward steps, and stood on the stairs with one hand on the handrail, looking down at the young man who was sitting leisurely on the sofa with a quiet gaze.

Qiao Heng stood up unhurriedly and stepped forward.

Rose lifted the hem of her skirt, stepped down a few steps, and held out her hand to him.

She put her hand in the young man's palm and said, "Good day, Mr. Hawkley, it's a pleasure to meet you. ”

……

Cars are parked in front of one of London's most prestigious opera houses, and richly dressed men and women walk into the theater in groups, occasionally nodding their heads with a light smile when they meet someone they know well.

Rose took Qiao Heng's arm and walked into the theater.

Their location is one of the best viewing boxes, and at a glance, everything on stage is clearly visible.

This lofty position did not bring Rose the slightest pleasure/feeling, and in her eyes, the ornate opera hall was like a huge birdcage, no matter how beautiful and expensive it was, it could not escape the essence of its use to bind other things. The guests sitting in the seats were like birds in a cage, smiling triumphantly and ignorantly.

The most terrible thing is that he is also one of them, and he finds out his miserable situation, but he can only be forced to obey the arrangement of the owner of the birdcage.

Qiao Heng only pretended not to know and asked, "What, don't you like to watch opera?"

Rose suddenly came back to her senses, "No, I love opera. ”

It's true, she loves art and philosophy, but there is no one around her to talk to. The things she is obsessed with, in the eyes of others, are just bargaining chips used by celebrities to increase their worth, you only need to put on a superficial appearance that I am very cultured and artistic, who cares how deep your research on art is?

She asked, "Which opera is coming up?"

Qiao Heng replied, "Shakespeare's Othello." ”

There is not much to say about this opera, in short, it is the story of a husband who misunderstands his wife under the sow of discord, then kills her, and then commits suicide after the truth is revealed.

The first act opens with the actors walking on stage. Qiao Heng then set his eyes on the stage.

It is worthy of being the number one opera house in London, and the opera singers who can perform here must have a certain level. Excluding the actors, the rest of the things, whether it is stage props or costumes, are also well-made, and there are no traces of shoddy workmanship.

The plot was interpreted by the actors, the contradictions were superimposed layer by layer, and the audience's feelings were also fully mobilized, and many ladies pinched the fan bones, and their fingertips began to white.

Rose was no exception, and suddenly, as if she had realized that she had neglected the person next to her for too long, she subconsciously looked at him.

I saw that the young man's eyes were focused on the stage, but his expression was as calm as when the opera first opened, as if he was watching a farce, whether it was the joys and sorrows on the stage or the audience with high emotions, it had nothing to do with him.

Qiao Heng noticed Rose's gaze at him, he looked at her suspiciously, and then looked at the stage.

Unable to explain why, Rose opened her mouth, not knowing what to say for a moment.

She knew she had to please him, and as long as he married her, she would be able to help her pay off the huge debt left by her father. She had already decided that she could marry him, but she would never give him her own heart.

She took a deep breath and tried to talk to him about her opinion of Othello, of course, she was ready to be looked at with blank and strange eyes, completely unintelligible about what she was saying. These pathetic but unaware people.

He looked at the stage and whispered, "Love is time-sensitive. ”

It wasn't loud, but Rose could hear it clearly.

"What do you mean?"

Qiao Heng leaned over slightly, put his arm on the armrest, and asked casually, "Did you take biology when you were in college?"

"Not really. Rose sighed.

In the eyes of that group of noble ladies, the purpose of women going to college is not to learn knowledge, but to have a good marriage contract, and how can a girls' school opened with this idea have a course like biology that does not meet the artistic connotation of women?

No one knows that she is envious of those commoners, and she also wants to be free to love like them, to pursue her dreams, and to be able to master her own life.

"Do you know the term 'hormones'?"

Looking at Rose's blank expression, he just explained calmly: "To put it simply, it is a substance secreted by the human body, which can control our birth, old age, sickness and death, joy, anger and sorrow. When a certain hormone is secreted a little more, we will produce 'love', and when the amount of its secretion returns to normal, 'love' will disappear, and the shelf life of 'love' is really pitifully short. ”

Such an explanation is naturally imprecise and full of loopholes, but it is undoubtedly the best to understand for someone who has not been exposed to this concept.

Rose asked, "Do you mean that when Othello killed Des Demona, there may have been no love between the two of them?"

"Yes. Rather than using the word 'love tragedy' to describe Othello, I prefer to call it a 'family tragedy'. ”

Rose shook her head, "I don't like that. According to you, is there no eternal love in your mind?"

Qiao Heng didn't refute anything, he seemed to have suddenly lost interest in talking, and turned over to watch the opera and said, "It doesn't exist in the first place." ”