Chapter 116
Milly's words caught me off guard for a moment, then a wave of warmth mixed with a touch of sadness washed over me.
My grandfather, that old man who spent his whole life obsessed with traditional crafts and was a keeper of intangible cultural heritage—how many thousands of patterns had he drawn?
Those designs—some elaborate and gorgeous, some simple and elegant, some symbolizing good fortune—were the most magnificent colors in my childhood memories.
It was common for international theater companies to seek him out to design costume patterns.
I didn't expect Milly to still remember.
I crouched down, pointing at the patterns on Gemma's costume on the display board, and softly told her the story behind it, "Milly, you're amazing for remembering so clearly. This pattern was commonly used on ancient porcelain."
"See, these patterns symbolize life continuing endlessly, pure and beautiful. Your great-grandfather used to draw many more complex ones—some for theater costumes, some for folding screens. They were so beautiful."
Milly listened with great interest, her big eyes full of wonder, "Great-grandfather was so talented. Mommy, after we watch the musical, I want to learn to draw this too."
"Sure, when we get home, Mommy will draw with you." I stroked her head, feeling deeply comforted.
Being able to open a window to traditional culture and aesthetics for Milly, letting her experience and enjoy it—that made me happier than anything.
However, this peaceful moment didn't last long.
Just as I straightened up and was about to take Milly's hand to continue waiting in line, a strong force suddenly hit me from behind.
Caught off guard, I stumbled forward a step before regaining my balance.
At the same time, scalding liquid accompanied by a strong coffee smell splashed over me. Half my skirt and my arm were instantly soaked, and my skin felt a burning, stinging pain.
I gasped and quickly looked down.
On my cream-colored dress, brown coffee stains were rapidly spreading, looking particularly jarring and embarrassing.
"Oops, sorry," a voice full of undisguised malice said behind me. "I didn't see anyone in front of me. My hand slipped."
I whipped around to see Terry's face, written all over with provocation and gloating.
He definitely did it on purpose.
Anger surged through me.
I was about to throw my drink back at this clown when I caught sight of several people walking toward the VIP entrance in the distance.
George, Sarah, and Jack, being led by Sarah's hand, looking around curiously.
Terry obviously saw them too. The provocative smile on his face immediately switched to flattery as he turned and trotted toward George, bowing and scraping as he greeted them.
I stood frozen in place, still clutching that bottle of juice, soaking wet.
The parents and children around us looked over curiously, pointing and whispering.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to ignore those stares.
I crouched down, pulled out wet wipes from my bag, and tried to calmly wipe the stains on my dress, though I knew they probably wouldn't come out.
Milly looked at me worriedly and asked quietly, "Mommy, does it hurt? Your dress is dirty."
"It's okay, Milly. Mommy doesn't hurt." I gave her a reassuring smile.
Just then, Sarah, leading Jack, walked up to me.
She was wearing an elegant champagne-colored suit today, with perfect makeup and a diamond necklace around her neck that sparkled under the lights—a stark contrast to my disheveled state.
"Ms. Brown, what a coincidence." Sarah had a slightly surprised smile on her face. "I didn't expect you'd bring Milly to see a musical, too."
I straightened up, meeting her gaze coldly, and forced a smile, "Musicals aren't some unreachable thing. If you can come, naturally I can, too."
Jack hid behind Sarah and made a face at Milly, "Milly, can you even understand a musical? Don't fall asleep and start snoring—that would be so annoying!"
In the past, Milly might have been scared and hidden behind me.
But today, perhaps because of her long-awaited show, or perhaps because of my earlier encouragement, she didn't back down. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and shot back, "Of course I can understand! You're the one who'll fall asleep!"
Seeing Milly bravely fight back, a strong sense of comfort and pride surged through me.
My Milly was gradually shaking off the shadows of the past, becoming confident and brave.
Terry started his sarcastic remarks again, "Some people really think too highly of themselves. They don't even look at what kind of person they are, what kind of taste they have, what kind of mess they've raised their daughter to be. No manners at all, and still coming to see a musical—it's disgusting."
His words not only insulted me but also Milly.
Blood rushed to my head.
I couldn't hold back anymore. I took the bottle of juice in my hand and threw it directly at Terry's revolting face.
Terry didn't expect me to do this in public. He screamed and instantly became a drowned rat, looking both ridiculous and pathetic.
The surroundings went quiet for a moment, then low gasps and murmurs arose.
I held the empty bottle, looking at him coldly, "What are you barking about? Did your parents raise you to be something good? Full of slander, biting people like a mad dog!"
"You! How dare you..." Terry's face turned livid with anger, his pointing finger trembling. He wanted to rush at me, but was probably intimidated by my cold, fierce look, or perhaps mindful of George's presence, so he didn't actually make a move.
Everyone's eyes focused on us, including George.
He also looked at me. Those deep eyes still had no warmth, his gaze just paused on my juice bottle for a moment before moving away. His lips pressed tight, he still didn't speak.
Seeing this, Sarah spoke in a gentle but reproachful voice, "Ms. Brown, how could you do this? Getting physical and angry in front of the children—it's such a bad influence on them. It'll make children lose their natural energy."
"We often bring Jack to various performances and concerts to cultivate his artistic sensibility, so naturally, he knows how to appreciate them. We're just a bit worried about Milly. She hasn't been exposed to much—what if she can't understand? Wouldn't that be a waste of a trip? And it would make the child suffer."
Terry found his opening and joined in the mockery, "Exactly. You're really wasting Mr. Smith's money. You're just a housewife—do you even understand these refined arts? And you're explaining things to the child? That's hilarious! Don't mislead the kid!"
George still stood silently a few steps away, like a bystander.
He didn't say a word for me, didn't even stop Terry and Sarah's sarcasm.
Perhaps in his eyes, this was also part of my self-humiliation.
I had long stopped expecting anything from him.
I straightened my back, shielded Milly behind me, and looked at Sarah coldly, "You don't need to worry about us. My Milly is smart and well-behaved, a thousand times, ten thousand times better than some spoiled child who's full of venom and doesn't even know basic manners. After all, there's a fundamental difference between genius and idiot."
I paused, looked at Terry meaningfully, and curved my lips into a mocking smile, "If you have this much free time, you'd better control this dog beside you that barks everywhere. It wouldn't be good if it scares the children."
Sarah and Terry's faces instantly turned even uglier.
Just then, the line moved forward, and it was our turn to have our tickets checked.
I didn't give them any more chance to speak. I took Milly's hand, pulled out our electronic tickets, and under the ticket checker's somewhat surprised yet sympathetic gaze, walked into the theater passage without looking back.
Behind us, I could vaguely hear Terry's furious cursing and Sarah's pretentiously gentle attempt to calm him down, "Okay, Terry, say less. Look, George isn't even saying anything. You keep bullying her—that's not good..."