Toast popped out of the bread maker. If you like it, you can get it

Patrick heard this, and he twisted his neck that was already hanging on the couch 90 degrees, and asked the agent who was making coffee in the kitchen, "Do you mind?"

Steve looked up at Patrick, "Of course not. He took a plate, put the toast on the plate, and asked, "Is there anything you want to wipe?"

"Low-fat butter, in ......" Patrick didn't continue, Steve had found it. He didn't want Steve to be his nurse, and despite his injuries, he was nowhere near the point where he couldn't take care of his own life. However, Steve is a man who sometimes does this: accusing you of not throwing him too many small pieces of work, claiming that it is not the agent's job at all, and helping you get it all out of the way.

Patrick lifted his thighs with the strength of his arms, and moved them to the side, and Steve handed him the plate, buttered on both slices of toast.

"Oh, do you need an omelette, or a scrambled egg with butter?" asked Steve, thoughtfully.

Patrick was tempted to talk about it, but it occurred to him that there were no eggs in his fridge, and it seemed a bit too much to have an agent who was both a nurse and a cook. He looked at his watch and said, "Thank you, that's it." In fact, my chef will be over in another hour, and maybe you can stay and eat if you want. ”

"Or is it the Japanese-French half-breed?"

"It's him. Patrick took a bite of his toast, remembered something, and asked, "You know how to cook?"

"A little, a little simple. Steve said and stood up, and Patrick knew he was back in the kitchen to serve his own coffee.

"Pat—"

"What?"

Steve's voice went from far to near, "That girl, what's Wendy, Wendy Corner, right? She really was with you?"

Patrick was eating his toast and nodded with a puffed out.

"No offense, Pat, you don't have a good eye for the past. Steve laughed and sat down across from Patrick. Not only did he bring himself coffee, but he also brought Patrick a glass of orange juice, which was exactly what Patrick wanted.

Patrick said thank you, put down his plate, and picked up the orange juice. Steve glanced at the plate, he had finished eating, and it seemed that he was a little hungry, and there were only a few corners left. Much like what Bitrisha would do. Steve remembered that Christine sometimes ate pizza or sandwiches and didn't like hard corners.

"I haven't seen her in years. Patrick said as he took a sip of orange juice, trying to remember everything about the girl, but he found that he could only remember. The thing that Wendy said was certainly one of them, outside of that......

Wendy's boobs developed early - presumably because she was one of the most popular girls in school at the time. She's supposed to be good-looking, but Patrick can't remember exactly what she looks like. Back then, his guys liked to tease Wendy's boobs, and he always said "that's not a big deal", and the guys said he was pretending to be cool, when in fact he was half and the other half was not. There's no thirteen-year-old heterosexual boy who isn't interested in big breasts, but he likes Wendy because of Wendy's short black hair, because Wendy can spin dozens of balls, and because Wendy is kind, at least then. Okay okay, let's be honest, her boobs dangle when she juggles the ball...... Wendy, who has several siblings, remembers seeing her pushing a double-decker stroller in the neighborhood near the school, with a five or six-year-old boy in her hand, and the stroller has either a plastic bag from Asda or a chicken and fries takeaway.

That's it.

As he heard him, Steve quietly curled the corner of his mouth on the right side. Patrick describes a world that is unfamiliar to him, but he can probably imagine what kind of girl Wendy is. And, the yearning for big breasts for thirteen-year-old boys, damn it, it's always true!

"This Wendy doesn't sound quite like the Wendy who broke the news for The Sun. ”

Patrick didn't say a word, his hand silently reached for the toast he had eaten on his plate, he picked one up and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing slowly, thinking about something.

East London is huge, and gentrification has been strong and fast in recent years. High-income people are still a minority in this area, but there are still many families with relatively good economic conditions, and the Amber family is the same. It's almost like Tina's family. And the worst of them are the ones like the Wendy Cocker family.

Yes, the Kona family survives by having children and receiving subsistence from the government/government.

"We were together for a short time, less than a semester. The last time I saw her was during the summer vacation of ninth grade, and she seemed to be pregnant at that time. You know I signed a professional contract and stopped using my old social media accounts, and I lost contact with a lot of people like Wendy. ”

"She still has the surname Kona, but she's already a mother of two, and I think we can assume she's continuing the 'tradition' of the Kona family. The information she provided to The Sun could bring her at least six figures. What kind of person would sell one of his best memories of his teenage years for money......" Steve said rather harshly.

"She's not having a good time. Patrick interrupted the agent, his voice didn't change much, in fact, he was calm, quite the opposite. He looked at Steve, who had only thought that Steve was very different from his and Tina's families, and nothing else. But at this moment he felt the indifference from "that class".

A long time ago, in Chantilly's tavern, Tina said that one of her ex-boyfriends must be having a bad day, so he went to The Sun to tell him about it. Tina is right, how can those who sell their memories or other people's private information for money have a good life?

Steve's voice went up, "Interesting. You mean you understand her, forgive her, she's having a bad day, so she's supposed to do it, even if she hurts you and the person you love? Do you want to write her a check? We all know you have a lot of money to spend anyway, Patrick Amber ......"

"Steve, I won't forgive her, like you said, what she did, hurt the people I love and me, that's my bottom line. If she starts making things up next, I'll sue her. But I don't want to have anything to do with this person, we hope she's not so stupid. ”

"But what did you mean ......?"

"Not everyone is born with a trust like you, and not everyone is as lucky as I am......" Patrick said without going on, he smiled and patted Steve on the shoulder, "Of course, it's not an excuse for people to fall, make mistakes, or even break the law. I know, and I agree. ”

Steve's eyebrows moved and moved, he always felt like he should say something, but he didn't know how to say it for a moment.

He wasn't an apathetic man, but he really hated the poor people who kept having children, receiving subsistence allowances, and treating it as a family tradition, for generations to come, and who always hated that the government didn't give enough, and that they wished that the rich people in all of West London would give them their money. But what if they give? Most of them will spend it very quickly and eventually go back to poverty. They can always get their lives back into a mess.

Steve then realizes that this may be the reason why he looks down on Phil and likes Patrick. He knew what Patrick would become, but what kind of person would Phil become?

"What do you want to say, or, still mad at me?" Patrick said as he finished drinking the orange juice, his voice interrupting Steve's thoughts.

"No, no. Steve shook his head and returned to reality, he looked at Patrick's feet, "So Barça agreed to the involvement of the doctor recommended by Alice in your treatment?"

Patrick shook his head, he thought it was funny.

Yes, Pep Guardiola is a suspicious person, and everyone always thinks that a club like Barcelona doesn't need outsiders to recommend doctors.

He smiled slightly, "Disappointed Tina." But I'm going to take it seriously, I've always been very important, it's my ankle after all. ”

"No wonder people misunderstand, who makes you always look like you don't care about anything. ”

"You know that's not true. ”

"Hopefully you'll catch the national derby. ”

Patrick mentally estimated the time, early November......

He nodded earnestly, "I think it should be possible, and I will do my best." ”

****

Entering October.

The weather in England continues to be changeable, with more rain falling and the sky always gloomy.

Lu Ling drove out of the New Queen's Park Stadium.

In the just-concluded Premier League fixture, QPR drew 0-0 with promoted Aston Villa after they had recently lost away to San Siro in midweek and lost to Inter Milan in the Champions League group stage. After eight rounds of the new Premier League season, the blue and white team have only 14 points and are seventh in the league.

At the top of the table are Simeone's Chelsea, with defending champions QPR eight points separating them from them.

Today is her first return to the new Queen's Park since her departure. The public has known the news for a long time, as she was invited by BT Sport to be a studio guest. Nathan Neal personally asked her if she wanted to greet the fans at half-time, and she thanked her before refusing.

The wind mixed with a drizzle blew through the dark, bustling crowd and through the open windows to her face.

It's actually been an hour since the end of the game, but these fans seem to be waiting for her to come out. They saw her, waved at her, and she gave her a friendly smile. She heard a young fan shouting:

"Christine, please come back!"

Lu Ling shook his head helplessly when he saw the father beside the child, and smiled wryly at her, she pursed her lips and smiled back, and continued to drive forward.

She headed in the direction of Surrey, her heart undulating. She just wanted to show up at the new Queen's Park as a regular guest, a regular BT Sport guest, but how was that possible?

It used to be her new Queen's Park, the battlefield where she danced her arms and shouted the names of one familiar player after another.

……

She slowed down. Now, you will pass by Lu Yungui's grave.

She turned on the radio, and a boring song played, which she snapped and turned off again. The voice seemed to linger in her ears, and the woman's whispered chant reminded her of her mother's cries on the day of the funeral. It even tastes like the pork pie of that day......

She took a deep breath and sped away from the cemetery.

The sky was so hazy both far away and near.

And in Spain, the sky must still be clear, whether it's Madrid or Barcelona.

Maybe she should leave London, in the truest sense of the word. 166 Reading Network