A Mother's Determination System

Chapter 27: <Selling Him Off?>

In order for a sprout to meet the sun from it's shell, it's buried within the dark earth. The met and dampness of the water and heat are illumined tribulations but truly help it grow.

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"Order 12...? AH, young master, here is your dish. Please enjoy your meal." 

"Would you like a tip?" 

"And that's what happened? You're exaggerating." 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAA. He's bigger than a geese. You don't need to fatten up your son any more." 

"Watch your words. My son is handsome, even if he's... Ya... He's my son anyways." 

"Order 18! Here is your crystal wrapped dumplings, sour and spicy chicken, white bamboo-shoot soup... Enjoy your meal." 

"Thank you." 

The room was clattered, loud, and jumbling with waitresses, waiters all over. They ran, and bustled against each other and the invisible magic field around their customer's chairs in dizzy blue livery. Heads of pulled back, black hair dazzled before Elizabeth's eyes, hats with different colours (that indicated their rank) and voices of many kinds looped around the many tables. Spicy, savory, sweet smells lingered from each glistening, hot plate. Paddled against the limited area of their hands, each employee took out their jobs like a professionally trained dancer, flowing against the unreadable flow of time. Though of course, they were just poor men and women who had jobs. It was a mandatory service to attend to those good-looking, well-dressed nobles; or, just well-off commoners anyway. This wasn't saying they looked down on poor ones. Well, at least not now. They weren't backed by a noble, nor a particularly renown store. In other words, their food was average. All they could do is to make sure they never offend anyone, and go along with their business as usual; waking up in the morning, chanting commercial phrases by the street like morning roosters. 

Bright, it was. Very bright. Light was scattered warmly, coming from the top above; from what seemed to be dark circles (shadowed by the light above), or bowls. Steady candles or some light source sat in it, steadily flickering from the gusts of cool wind that blew in from the open windows, balconies and doors. You could not stare at it directly, at least, not without squinting. If it wasn't this way, it would not have the capability to light such a large, tall building and it's 2 floors so well. It definitely was not a common view, but, lights are lights anyways, and Elizabeth started glancing around. 

As the views of men and women came by, she felt out of place. Tattered shreds of clothing dangled by her sides, while dirt clearly contaminated the curves and holes. Her blue dye was dulled, greyed out like the a squinting sky, ready to cry and burst within minutes. She stared around, paying no attention whatsoever. Had she did, it would do her no good anyways. She knew she was being a sore thumb in an entrepreneur's time of prime. A soiled woman smelled  beyond words would never be welcomed in a store. That is to say, she would never be welcomed in a cycling restaurant, gearing on the wonderous attraction of the night; of empty stomachs, waiting for a meal. Elizabeth could only hope on the guess that the old man outside, was true to what she interpreted. She could not doubt herself. 

Now, with this long description, you may think: "How long did Elizabeth stare there?" A good question, and I shall answer it; she stayed there for barely 3 seconds. A brain and pair of eyes can analyze landscapes, objects, and thoughts quite fast. Even detail. Though, it is not the same with words (at least what I can write). If we stayed true to the way, and length of the text,  she would have been staring at the walls and so like a ghost,  ignoring the poor waiter who looked upon her later. 

Who actually, is coming now. 

Gently, a pair of clacking footsteps came closer, barely auditable from the rest of the sewing clamor. Sharp, and clear; hallow, like wooden hells against cold stone. The tables swished in Elizabeth's eyes in a blur, as she unconsciously alarmed herself with the incoming sound. The man who was walking, came over nonchalantly. Black hair was tied behind in a bun, with gold and black hanfu touching his shoulders down his slender waist. He wore a mole under his right eye, with rubbed eyes, exhausted, but tender. Lightly recoiled from the smell of blood, he stopped 3 meters away from Elizabeth and lifted his arms.