Before the two even reached the entrance of the orphanage, a earth-shattering bellow echoed through the air: “I don’t care who comes today!
Even if I die right here, I’m going to rip off your evil masks!” A small, thin figure was bouncing, rolling, and leaping on the ground like a loach dropped into a frying pan.
The dust kicked up acted like a smoke bomb, transporting onlookers back to the smoggy London of the Industrial Revolution.
Beside her lay a giant bundle tied up like a massive caterpillar.
Looking closer—good grief, it was a human being!
The entrance to the orphanage was completely blocked by a dense crowd.
Granted, while most Londoners valued propriety and social boundaries, who could resist stopping to watch a brawl that featured rolling on the ground, singing, dancing, and live musical accompaniment?
When the dignified Mrs.
Brown walked out, she was greeted by dozens of eyes staring at her from three layers deep.
Without exaggeration, she almost turned around and retreated two steps back inside.
She took a deep breath to stop her voice from trembling.
“Ariana, what are you doing?!” The busy loach—who was currently thumping on the ground, banging a gong, and taking time to kick the person beside her—had no time to answer.
Immersed in her performance, she was utterly oblivious to her surroundings: “Come take a look, everyone!
The grand dentist’s wife instructed her own child to steal money from orphans!
There are no wicked people left like this on earth—Satan himself would get a tattoo of you on his back!
You have the nerve to pray at church every weekend, bringing pure malice and filth right before God!!” Mrs.
Smith trembled with rage, virtually unable to speak.
The boy tied up like a silkworm on the ground groaned, bruised and battered.
The surrounding onlookers pointed, whispered, and chattered.
To be honest, the scene was utterly absurd.
After a long silence, Mrs.
Smith finally squeezed out a sentence: “You—are you even a girl?!
Where are your manners?!” For some reason, the first emotion that welled up inside Ariana was disappointment.
With a face full of wrinkles and all those years under her belt, was that the best combat power she had?
Why did Ariana feel like she shouldn’t be this weak?
Suppressing the urge—rising from her very bloodline—to offer friendly regards to eighteen generations of her opponent’s ancestors, she realized now wasn’t the time to showcase her cursing skills.
Instead, she wailed even louder: “Gather ’round, everyone, and judge for yourselves!
Look at this absolute hypocrisy!
An educated adult lecturing an orphan standing up for her rights about ‘manners’!
Boo-hoo!
If I had parents to teach and protect me, would I be bullied like this by your son?
Your son had your ‘manners,’ and he turned out looking like a mugger!” Her words flowed effortlessly and clearly like running water.
At the end, she even quietly admired herself—look at her flawless combat skills!
As for whether anyone would think a girl was being too rude— Hmph.
This was all the fault of her irresponsible parents who had abandoned her.
It certainly wasn’t her problem; she was the victim here, okay?
Ariana never wasted energy on self-doubt.
Wailing loudly, she rolled over to the watching children from the orphanage and gave each of them a light nudge with her foot in the chaos.
“Cry!” The little kids were stunned, not quite understanding, but instinctively executed the command.
“Waaah—” “Boo-hoo—” The scene was pure chaos: big kids crying, small kids screaming, and Ariana singing and dancing in the middle of them.
In the midst of this pandemonium, she shed tears as she cried out, “Look at us, everyone!
We…” She pointed a finger at the weeping orphans whose noses were running.
“…have no parents, no relatives!
Only our Matron and government relief funds brought us up through hardships!
But we still want to make a contribution to the world!
We worked hard to collect donations that would be used for charity!
Times are so tough for us, yet this rich boy raised by doting parents stole our only money!” She scooped up a skinny little boy and set him right next to the pig-like boy.
She even provided emotional musical accompaniment, singing rhythmically: “Pity the cabbage~ withered in the field~ lost her poor mama at the age of two or three~ bullied by the cruel~ beaten by the mean~” You had to admit, once the sad song started, the atmosphere immediately picked up.
The surrounding crowd grew genuinely righteous and indignant.
“Good God, saying that to a poor child is simply too much.” “That woman is truly vile!” “Does she look familiar to you?” “Haven’t you heard?
She’s the wife of Smith the dentist.” Mrs.
Smith was nearly suffocating—God, why were there so many nosy people?
They were about to state her identity out loud!
If this reached the ears of her proper neighbors, how would they look at her?
This damned, malicious little bitch!
Her son was just being a little mischievous; was there any need to make such a scene?
She deserved to be abandoned by her parents!
“What on earth do you want?” she spat through gritted teeth.
“It would have been so much easier if you had just said that earlier.” Hearing those words, Ariana instantly perked up.
She flipped up off the ground like a carp leaping out of water, raising a dirt-smudged yet indisputably lovely face that looked exceptionally sweet and obedient.
“Ma’am, I don’t want much.
But your son stole our donation tin.” “Ha!” Mrs.
Smith scoffed with contempt, as if finally regaining her sense of superiority.
“A collection tin.
Yes, I suppose that *is* a huge sum of money to the likes of you.” With a loud snap, she opened her purse and aggressively rummaged through it.
As if completely unfazed by her disdain, Ariana kept the smile on her face.
“Yes, it’s just one collection tin.
But inside was at least a week’s worth of hard work from the orphans here, who worked from dusk till dawn, along with the love of many kind-hearted people—unlike you.” Mrs.
Smith paused her rummaging.
“What do you mean?” Ariana said with a sweet smile, “I mean, your compensation should probably cover at least a week’s wages for the orphans, our food expenses, and that full tin of love donated by kind people.” Mrs.
Smith shrieked, “You wicked girl—you’re blackmailing me, aren’t you?!” “How could you say such a thing?!” Ariana recoiled several steps as if deeply hurt.
“I didn’t even ask you for a specific amount.
Isn’t this all up to your own conscience?” Then, she suddenly leaned in close, murmuring to Mrs.
Smith in a voice nobody else could hear, “I remember little Smith is going to a very prestigious secondary school in September.” “I imagine a good school like that cares about a student’s moral character—or at least wouldn’t want a scandal like ‘SHOCKING: Orphan Causes Scene at Opening Ceremony Over Robbery by New Student’ on the news, right?” “You’ve already experienced my ability to stir up trouble, haven’t you?” Mrs.
Smith looked as though her teeth were about to grind into dust.
“You—what do you mean?!” “You’ll have to pay extra, ma’am.” Ariana smiled with sweet, picture-perfect innocence.