Phil hurriedly shook his head in refusal, fear made his voice seem to come from the nine shadows, not only hoarse, but also a little stammering.

Taking advantage of Phil's unpreparedness, Edward jerked in and grabbed him in his hands.

"It's going too fast, let's talk. ”

"I was injured yesterday and need to rest for two days. ”

"I'm going to talk to my grandfather and change the contract. ”

"Big brother, I still have two bottles of golden ice wine from Fernand Manor here, don't dislike it. It's okay, it's okay, I still have a lot of it. ”

"Catherine, Mom, help me. ”

“......”

"Ah~~~!!"

The little mouse caught in the palm of the fat cat trembled in the shadow of fear, and no matter how much it struggled, it couldn't move.

In desperation, he could only desperately use various means of delay, coercion, and inducement to trap the beast, but it was still to no avail.

With one terrible scream after another, everything was calm.

The fat cat licked its paws contentedly, satisfied with the little mouse's twitching expression and well-behaved attitude at the moment.

Although he is not in a hurry to eat it, he always has to play a trick to make this overly smart little mouse understand that he is really in the food chain.

Two hours later, sweaty and embarrassed, Phil lay flat on the floor, like an abandoned rag doll, staring blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling, his eyes as bright as sapphire as hollow and dark as dust.

There was a creak of the door opening, but Phil still didn't react, only a violent rise and fall in his chest, proving that he was still alive.

The little fat man's mind was not as calm as it seemed, but kept tumbling over the scenes that had happened in the previous two hours.

He was pressed to the floor by his fat body, fiddled in exaggerated and shameful shapes, accompanied by tearing pain and painful wails.

His immature voice grew hoarse as he screamed, until he could no longer make any sound.

Tears and snot seemed to be the only way he could express his resistance in the second half of the journey, and the helpless despair made him want to faint for a while.

Far more than two hours, it seemed to Phil that a day, a month, or even a year had passed.

But there seems to be no end to time, and each brief lull is only a harbinger of a new pose.

In the short video of his previous life, he saw the way the girls in the dance department cried when they pressed their tendons, and he also laughed because of it.

But now, he's ashamed.

Although the pain of the flesh seems to be nothing compared to the pain of the soul being gnawed, it turns out that it is only an imagination when there is no body.

What made him especially desperate was that looking at the satisfied smile on Edward's lips and the unfinished look on his face as he finally got up, he realized that this was just the beginning, and that a heavy physical activity like snowclearing was so beautiful and relaxing.

Today's shower was washed by Edward, and the process was quite simple and crude, just like the order in which Phil washed the rags.

Throw it into the water and soak it, scrub your hands twice, then take it out and wring it out.

For the first time, the numbness and pain in his whole body prevented him from entering passive meditation, and even when he finally fell asleep, his beautiful golden eyebrows were wrinkled together.

Fortunately, Edward took out a white ointment and applied it to the joints and ligaments, which was cool and comfortable, making him feel much better.

Phil's Diary:

My name is Philip and I'm an adult from another world.

It is a great honor that I was born in a large family in this life, a powerful grandfather, a brave and warlike father, and a beautiful and generous mother.

Carved beams and jade buildings, brocade clothes and jade food, food to open the mouth, clothes to stretch out the hand, can not describe the happiness of my childhood life.

My dream is to be in charge of the world, drunk and lying on the knees of beautiful women, full of children and grandchildren, and dying on the battlefield.

Unexpectedly, when I was eight years old, when I had not started my dream journey, and before I had even pressed others, I was crushed by a dead fat man.

I struggled, I howled, I begged for mercy, I cried bitterly, but it still didn't touch the cold and lewd heart of the dead fat man.

My dreams were shattered, and my ambition was stained with a dead fat man named Edward, who forever left a nightmare memory in my life.

If Gaia, the mother goddess of the earth, gave me another chance, I would resolutely say "no" to my grandfather the first time I saw the dead fat man, and then let the guards tie him to a stone and sink him to the bottom of the water.

For this reason, I would like to be born into a stone bridge in the future, and be blown by the wind for five hundred years, rained for five hundred years, and exposed to the sun for five hundred years, just to guard there, and watch the dead fat man suffer in hell, weeping and wailing.

If Gaia, Mother Earth, asks me, ask for a deadline.

I would say: 10,000 years.

The next day, Phil hid in a small warehouse next to the kitchen, but was unfortunately betrayed by a traitor and pressed.

On the third day, Phil resorted to nonviolent non-cooperation, but Edward did not care and pressed.

On the fourth day, Phil tried to escape Snape Manor and was captured and crushed by Edward, who was lying in ambush outside the gates.

On the fifth day, Phil violently resisted, biting with his teeth and kicking with his legs, and was easily suppressed and pressed.

It is possible that Phil's physical condition is really good in this life, and after the fifth day, the pain is no longer so unbearable, and Edward is also in a happy mood to relax the supervision of Phil.

Phil no longer tried to resist, no longer cried, no longer begged for mercy, and was numb and desperate to go along with it.

On the sixth day, it was a little more relaxed and the passive meditation after the massage was restored.

On the seventh day, it didn't hurt much, just a little sour, and I was even allowed to drink a little of my own ice wine.

On the eighth day, why didn't Edward's bastard come, he was already late.

There was a little itch on my body, and although I didn't want to admit it, I was really looking forward to being stretched.

On the afternoon of the eighth day, just as Phil was beginning to get used to this healthy pace of life, the great Lady Catherine finally returned from the distant Lord's Mansion with a mighty army.

Of course, Blair's little maid, whom Phil had been thinking about, also returned, because if she didn't come back, Phil would have no clean underwear to change.

After a few short days, Phil has become a little accustomed to the loneliness of parting.

So much so that the moment he saw Catherine, he didn't know for a moment whether to rush up to hug his mother enthusiastically, or to say hello politely, and then accuse a dead fat man of his evil deeds.

Before he could think clearly, Catherine took him in her arms and smacked his chubby face.

Even Mama Bertha, who was watching the excitement behind her, was secretly wiping away tears.

Only the skinny Blair rushed into Phil's room, let out a scream, and then ran to Phil's bathroom, his voice sounding like crying.

"Mom, I'm fine. Phil struggled out of Catherine's arms, and he was really out of breath.

But Catherine held his little face, looked left and right carefully, up and down, and after reading it, she took a few bites of "chirp, chirp" again, and opened her bow left and right.

After a long while, he let go of Phil and said aggrievedly: "It's dark, it's thin." After speaking, he wiped the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, and it seemed that it had begun to flood.

Am I the one who was ruthlessly abandoned, and why are you the last to cry?

Phil looked at Catherine and Grandma Bertha speechlessly.

There was no way, in this situation, Phil could only take the initiative to hug Catherine, and the little chubby face rubbed against her face and kissed her, like a little golden retriever who only sought comfort.

There were countless more kisses, and finally when Catherine calmed down, Phil's face was no longer visible.

One piece of red, one piece of powder, and countless pieces of saliva, wet and slimy.

Phil returned to his room and found Blair crouched by the basket, babbling with a plaintive face as he sorted out his dirty clothes.

Phil suddenly felt in a good mood, couldn't help but whistle, jumped on his big bed, kicked his feet, satisfied.

In fact, Catherine couldn't help herself on the fifth day of moving out and wanted to sneak back to see her son.

Especially when she heard about Phil's torture, she longed to fly back from the Lord's Mansion, but was eventually persuaded by the old Campbell butler.

Every day before nightfall, Aunt Mia would send little Manman to report everything that happened in the day, even what Phil ate for three meals and how much he ate.

This plan of temporary isolation was proposed by the little fat man's biological father, His Excellency Matthew the Great Knight.

Stretching your muscles and bones is very painful, and Matthew has experienced it.

In front of Catherine, it would more or less interfere with Edward's training plan, and if this was the case, it would be better to be separated for a while.

But even so, whenever Catherine sat in the guest room of the Lord's Palace, looking in the direction of her home, she couldn't help but fantasize about her son's mistreatment over and over again, as if her son's screams echoed in her ears.