Transmigrated as the Villain Boss's Precious Darling Chapter 206: Future World

"What nonsense are you talking about? Do you have a death wish?" Shane Thorne shot him a harsh glare.

Shaun Thorne looked sullen. He ducked his head and said nothing more. He was worried sick. He had a whole family of old and young to feed, but their food supply was dwindling. Even if they ate watery porridge for every al, it still wouldn’t be enough. What was the point of working so hard if they couldn’t even fill their stomachs?

"Shane, is the little girl talking about airplanes and trains?" Byron Thorne asked.

"Yes."

Shane Thorne nodded, his expression growing excited. He asked Tang Xiaonan a few more questions and beca even more certain that the girl had seen the future. There were so many things that even he had never seen, like a square box you could hold in your hand to make phone calls, and all that bizarre clothing. Won actually walked the streets in shorts that exposed the tops of their thighs. ’How utterly indecent!’

"Shane, is she going to be alright? Could Mr. Tate have told her so of these things?" Byron Thorne asked, sounding flustered.

He had lived his whole life cautiously, never stepping out of line or seeking the spotlight, terrified of being the nail that sticks out. To see his granddaughter acting this way... it frightened him!

"That’s possible. I’ll take her to ask Mr. Tate."

Shane Thorne was exceptionally excited, losing his usual composure. He eagerly scooped up Tang Xiaonan and headed out the door. After a mont’s hesitation, Byron Thorne followed him.

The others exchanged glances, and after a brief hesitation, they all flocked after them. It wasn’t like they had anything else to do at night. They might as well go hear what that so-called "capitalist roader" had to say.

When Adrian Hawthorne returned ho and let them know he was safe, Old Master Tate and the others were able to finish their al in peace. They had just finished when they heard a commotion outside. Rosalind Green opened the door and saw more than a dozen people forming a dark, dense crowd that blocked the entrance. Her legs went weak with fright, and she quickly ducked behind Adrian Hawthorne.

Old Master Tate’s heart trembled as well. ’Did they find out about Adrian selling postcards?’ he worried. ’Did the authorities send people to investigate? Are they going to transfer to another prison?’

"Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Tate. We have sothing we’d like to ask you," Shane Thorne said politely.

Adrian Hawthorne silently put down the wood-chopping axe and eyed the crowd with suspicion. He recognized the man in the lead, Shane Thorne, as the only person in the village who treated him with any courtesy. But that was all it was—courtesy. The man himself was a "middle peasant," a precarious status, so he was always extrely careful about what he said and did.

"Mr. Hawthorne!"

Perched on Felix Thorne’s back, Tang Xiaonan waved cheerfully, a White Rabbit candy still in her mouth. Phoebe Huxley had given her the precious treat ahead of schedule because she’d had a scare.

Adrian felt more at ease. ’Since the chubby girl is with them, it can’t be anything bad,’ he thought. ’This little fatty has been pretty sensible lately.’

"I wouldn’t presu to offer any instruction, but please, do co in and sit down."

Old Master Tate relaxed and invited everyone to sit. It was the first ti many of them had been to the Hawthorne family’s ho, and they couldn’t help but look around curiously. Although the house was dilapidated, it was kept neat and clean and had a certain indescribable quality to it.

A vase of flowers sat on the old table. It was just an ordinary canning jar, but it had been polished until it glead. The flowers were wildflowers picked from the mountains—the kind the villagers saw every day while working. They would never pick them, though; they would just chop them down with their hoes, since the weeds stole nutrients from the crops.

But Rosalind Green had picked them and brought them ho. With just a few simple touches, she had created a beautiful floral arrangent. The dilapidated windows were adorned with small, floral-print curtains. The mottled walls were papered with colorful pages from old magazines that Adrian Hawthorne had salvaged from a scrap station. Rosalind had cleaned them and pasted them to the walls, creating the most beautiful wallpaper.

With Rosalind Green’s skillful touch, the once dilapidated old house had been transford into a clean and cozy ho, a world away from the other farmhouses in the village.