Resortecting the Bacabra Wirbely


    Chapter 439 Tastes Like a Sewer


    Isabelle said, “Get into the bed and get some sleep.


    These days, George had been sitting on a chair and sleeping by the bedside, hardly sleeping at all.


    George declined. “The bed is too small.”


    Isabelle said, “I feel cold sleeping alone.”


    George reached into the nket and felt around. There was hardly any warmth inside, and her hands were freezing cold.


    George lifted the nket off her body, took off his coat that still had warmth, and covered her with it, then covered her with the nket.


    He then turned off the light andy down on the bed.


    With the bed being too cramped, George had to sleep on his side.


    George asked, “Can I hold you while we sleep?”ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Isabelle replied, “Give it a try.”


    George said, “Okay.”


    With his arm wrapped lightly around Isabelle’s waist over his coat, he drew her close, attempting to warm her body.


    Isabelle remained silent.


    After about ten minutes, George asked her, “Feeling warmer?”


    Isabelle didn’t respond, possibly already asleep.


    Inside the little house, all was quiet, the two figures on the small bed huddled together for warmth, the distant murmur of neighbours next door seeming worlds


    away.


    Suddenly, Isabelle’s voice broke the silence, “In that castle, there were only Clubs and Moon Shadow originally. I was stronger than them, and I had a backup n. I


    could hama


    Chapter 439 Tastes Like & Sewer


    George asked, “Did something unexpectede up?”


    Someone unexpected had to be involved, probably rted to Storm Shadow.


    Isabelle stared at the dark sky above, Clubs‘ words echoing in her mind: ‘Storm Shadow died for you.’


    She wanted to talk to George about it but didn’t know how.


    She stayed silent for a while, feeling her emotions shifting. George leaned his forehead against hers, “It’ste, let’s not dwell on it now. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”


    Isabelle slowly turned her face towards him.


    Their eyes met in the darkness.


    George gently kissed her forehead.


    Isabelle turned her face away, looking back up, her tone casual yet a bit yful, “I’ve heard a lot about Mr. Qin being innocent in matters of love. I originally thought Mr. Qin would be the passive one in rtionships.”


    After all, she had made the first move both times, even initiating the kiss before they went to Aviara.


    Isabellemented with an odd tone, “You seem to be getting more proactive.”


    George chuckled awkwardly and retorted, “I thought Miss Jenkins was emotionally mature, didn’t expect her to be so innocent.”


    <i>Isabelle</i>, <i>Am </i><i>I </i><i>innocent</i><i>?</i>


    George continued, “Miss Jenkins’s proactive moves are quite limited.”


    The following day.


    George had the young boy deliver a new nket.


    The nket wasn’t thick, but it was warmer and morefortable than what Isabelle was using, and it was clean.


    Isabelle woke up in a haze to find Georgeing in with a nket. Through the


    Chapter 439 Tastes Like a Sewer


    wide–open door, the young boy caught a glimpse of Isabelle and eximed with envy, “Your wife is really pretty.”


    George agreed. “Yeah.”


    Before the boy could say more, George shut the door.


    Turning back, he found Isabelle wide awake, staring at him.


    “You’re awake.” He thought, <i>Got </i><i>caught </i><i>again</i><i>. </i><i>What </i><i>rotten </i>luck.


    But this time, George seemed calmer. He pulled the nket out of the bag, saying, “I’ll change the bedsheet for you.”


    Weak and seeming too tired to argue, Isabelle just said, “Next time, don’t take such risks.”


    A kid from the slums buying a nket would draw too much attention.


    George nodded. “Got it.”


    George helped her change the nket, then poured her a ss of water, saying, “I made chicken soup for you to nourish your body.”


    The little stove in the corner was working hard, and Isabelle, catching the aroma of the chicken soup, muttered, “Fishy.”


    George also noticed the fishy smell. “If only we hadn’t lost the phone, we could have looked up the cooking method. Maybe it would have turned out better.”


    As a beginner, George had been experimenting with cooking on his own these past. few days.


    Once the chicken soup was cooked, George cautiously took a sip as if testing for poison. After adjusting the taste for a while, it still didn’t meet his expectations. Holding the bowl, he looked somewhat conflicted. “It’s a bit bad. Want a taste?”


    Isabelle asked, “How bad is it?”


    Taking another sip, George couldn’t quite describe it.


    Observing his subtle expression, Isabelle felt likeughing. “Let me try.”


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    hapter 430 Tastes Like a Sewer


    George immediately brought the bowl over and fed her a spoonful.


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    Finisher


    “How is it? Is it really bad? If you can’t handle it, just spit it out.” He held his hand out for her to spit into.


    Isabelle swallowed it down. “Tastes like a sewer.”


    The unexpectedment caught George off guard. He knew it tasted bad, but likening it to a sewer was a bit …


    George, who was usually outstanding in all aspects, felt a blow to his pride…


    He fell silent.


    Isabelle suggested, “It might be the water quality.”


    George nodded. “Great minds think alike.”


    Suddenly reassured, George’s confidence returned.


    He quickly regained hisposure, saying, “Once we’re back home, I’ll cook for you using local water and ingredients. It’ll definitely be better.”


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