Operation Red Book

“Phew—finally done!”

Ivy patted her cheeks, trying to sober herself up.

The sky was dark, with stars twinkling in the sky. A cold and soft moon hung on the treetops, casting a pale and weak light.

It was pitch black all around, and the lights around the mansion at McMillan Manor were turned on. The mansion stood in the middle like a glaring incandescent lamp.

Ivy lifted her skirt and walked carefully along the edge of the grass. Beside her were large rose bushes that glowed softly and beautifully in the night.

She looked at the lawn in front of the mansion, where huge tents and grills of various sizes were set up. Thick white smoke rose up and dissipated in the night sky.

The welcome reception was held in the reception room. Mrs. Emerson and her younger children sat on the soft sofa and talked with the guests for several hours.

Dorian said the effect was very good. The guests present were all Mrs. Emerson's relatives and friends. It not only provided Mrs. Emerson with warm company, but also saved a lot of desserts - only one or two glasses of brandy were enough.

After the pleasant foreplay, the banquet on the lawn was prepared as planned.

It was a huge long wooden table with a white lace tablecloth that matched the white gauze curtain on the tent, and it was filled with rich dishes and desserts.

Unlike ordinary banquets, there were no chairs at the table, no plates on the table, and no knives and forks next to the dishes.

In order to silence the picky mouths of the guests, Dorian gave a special explanation to everyone before the banquet began.

"This banquet will be in the form of a buffet. Meat will be served on white porcelain plates just shipped from China, vegetables will be served on gold plates made in the United States, and fried food will be served on silver plates custom-made by this manor. Please be sure to try the fish and chips made by Duke Andrew himself. They are very delicious."

"The soup was served in a ceramic bowl presented by the Turkish ambassador, and the dessert was a small and lovely glass goblet with a gilded rim. I am proud to say that it was specially gifted to the manor by Her Majesty the Queen."

"If you need anything, please ask the servants at the table to get it for you. They are happy to help. You can also walk around the manor and chat with the guests around you. If you feel tired, you can sit down at the table and enjoy the food."

"What are those people doing over there?" the young master of the Goodwin family asked, pointing to the barbecue stove outside the tent that was emitting white smoke.

"Thank you for your reminder. I was just about to introduce you all." Dorian nodded and saluted.

"In order to ensure the taste of some dishes, the chefs of this manor have moved all the cooking utensils here. Please tell the servants at the table what you want to try, and these chefs will prepare it for you on the spot."

"Salmon sashimi is over here, you can see the fish slices being cut; Margherita pizza is over there, you can see the dough piled with cheese being sent into the oven; please be sure to try the freshly grilled lamb kebabs, the lamb is the most tender when it is just out of the oven."

"Can I have a baguette with foie gras?" interrupted Miss Baxter.

"Of course, Miss Fiona Baxter, I must introduce you to the pastry chef specially invited by this manor. He has spent ten years in the alleys of Paris and Milan respectively, just to make authentic French and Italian desserts."

Dorian nodded slightly to the pastry chef, who curled up his curly mustache and whistled proudly. It was the owner of the bakery on August Street.

"Ha! Do you want to listen to what you are saying? You actually compare dirty commoners with us upper-class aristocrats!" Countess Goodwin said sarcastically.

"Does this low-level pastry chef know what high-end desserts are? Our pastry chefs are all at the British royal level!"

"You are in for a treat today." Dorian smiled politely. "The chefs of the British royal family are all farmers in the French countryside, because British wild boars cannot eat the fine bran of France..."

"OK OK!"

Mrs. Emerson, who had been watching with a smile, stood in front of Dorian and tried to smooth things over with the guests.

"Everyone must be tired of talking, haha, here is the champagne tower. I have specially prepared Clicquot and Bolete for you... Oh! Vincent, of course I know your taste. I have specially stored chilled wine in the wine cellar for you."

After a while, the lady pulled up the youngest son of the Goodwin family and said in a gentle and patient tone: "Little Ben, I prepared white peach juice for you. How about you drink a glass with me later?"

"it is good!"

The young master of the Goodwin family happily showed his two missing teeth and followed Mrs. Emerson into the banquet.

With the entry of the host, the birthday party officially began. The guests looked in both directions and joined in the lively banquet.

By now, the banquet had begun for some time, and all kinds of sounds were playing at the banquet, which was noisy and smooth.

The clinking of wine glasses, the footsteps of servants, the sound of water boiling for stewing potatoes, the clatter of knives and forks against porcelain plates, the hearty laughter of the lords, the low conversations of the ladies and... the faint smile of Count Vincent Waite.

Ivy stood alone in the darkness, looking at him in the fluorescent rose garden.

The tall figure, the elegant way of raising the glass, and the green eyes were all taken in by Ivy without reservation.

She should be happy. The party was able to be held successfully thanks to her, right?

What a huge difficulty, what a huge responsibility, what a huge pressure, and what a huge amount of organization and coordination...

But she was not one of Mrs. Emerson's relatives or friends. Without an invitation and identity, she was not qualified to appear under the dazzling white woven lamp.

She knew all this, so of course she chose to accept it calmly.

The plain banquet concerto is a reward for her and an encouragement to those who work hard behind the scenes.

That's enough, isn't it?

Ivy comforted herself in this way. She looked up at the deep purple night and suddenly found herself in bottomless darkness.

The darkness was filled with empty oxygen, and every breath increased the pain and swelling in her heart.

The pair of green eyes that suddenly broke into her eyes broke her hard shell. From the broken shell, she suddenly caught a glimpse of her own desires and longings, which were boundless and like the vast starry sky.

There it comes again, that feeling!

The sudden dizziness almost made Ivy fall to the ground. She quickly bent over, holding her chest, breathing rapidly and looking painful.

"Please don't do that. At least wait until today's banquet is over..."

Ivy comforted herself in her heart. She didn't even have the strength to speak.

She looked up at the dim light in the distance, and forced herself to move towards the opposite side, suppressing the discomfort.

Before she knew it, Ivy had reached the edge of the mansion, where the floor-to-ceiling windows of the terrace cast soft light, illuminating the dense, swaying branches.

"Why is it here?"

Ivy bent her waist as if her body was a huge rock. She sat down against the tree with difficulty, and she had no strength left.

Everything in front of me was hazy, and I could only vaguely make out the shape of the terrace and curtains.

Ivy thought of the last dance again. It was also a night like this, and on a terrace like this. The band played cheerful dance music, and the crowd was bustling with noise and laughter.

The light from the mansion became increasingly blurred and brighter, as if it was going to swallow Ivy whole.

Ivy's eyelids could no longer hold up, she slowly closed her eyes, and her consciousness gradually faded.

At the last moment before she fell asleep, the light in front of her eyes flickered, and it seemed that a figure was walking towards her.