You'll Have to Pay More, Madam

Before the two reached the orphanage gates, they heard a roar that seemed to pierce the heavens: "It doesn't matter who comes, today I'll die right here before I rip off your wicked masks!"

A small, thin figure flailed on the ground like a loach tossed into hot oil—hopping, rolling, and leaping. The dust kicked up was like smoke bombs, conjuring images of smoggy London during the Industrial Revolution.

Beside her was something tied up like a giant caterpillar. Upon closer inspection, lo and behold, it was a person!

The entrance to the orphanage was completely mobbed—yes, perhaps most Londoners valued discretion and decorum, maintaining a proper social distance, but faced with such a spectacle of rolling, kicking, singing, and dancing, complete with a soundtrack, who could resist stopping to watch?

Mrs. Brown, usually so reserved, emerged to face the gaze of countless eyes, packed three layers deep.

It was no exaggeration to say she almost turned and retreated on the spot.

She took a deep breath to steady her trembling voice: "Eliana, what are you doing—?!"

The busy loach, simultaneously rolling on the ground, banging a gong, and kicking the person next to her, had no time to answer.

She was completely immersed in her performance, oblivious to the world:

"Everyone, look and see! The esteemed dentist's wife is instructing her own child to steal money from the orphanage—is there anyone more heartless in this world? Even Satan would have your name tattooed on his back! And you have the nerve to go to church every Sunday to pray, bringing wickedness and filth right before God!!"

Mrs. Smith was so enraged she could barely speak, trembling.

The boy on the ground, beaten black and blue and tied up like a silkworm pupa, wailed.

The onlookers pointed and chattered.

Honestly, the scene was utterly absurd.

After a long moment, Mrs. Smith finally managed to choke out, "Are you—are you even a girl? Where is your upbringing?!"

For some reason, the first emotion Eliana felt was disappointment.

That face, full of wrinkles and looking so old, and this was her fighting spirit?

She felt like it shouldn't be like this.

Suppressing a curse she felt rising from her bloodline towards the enemy's ancestors—now was not the time to show off her cursing skills—she howled even louder:

"Everyone, judge this! It's a complete reversal! An educated adult is telling an orphan defending her rights that her behavior is uncultured. Sob sob, if I had parents to teach and protect me, would your son be bullying me like this? And your son, with your upbringing, looks like a robber!"

She spoke clearly and fluently, babbling on and on, and in the end, she secretly admired herself in her heart—look at her perfect combat effectiveness!

As for whether anyone would think a girl acting like this was too crude—

Hmph, this was all the influence left by her irresponsible parents who abandoned her. It wasn't her fault, she was a victim, okay.

Eliana never engaged in internal conflict.

She howled and rolled over to the other children from the orphanage who were watching, giving them each a kick in the chaos: "Cry!"

The younger children, stunned and not yet recovered, instinctively obeyed the command.

"Waa—"

"Boohoo—"

It was a scene of older children crying, younger children fussing, with Eliana in the middle, singing and dancing.

Amidst this chaos, she cried with tears streaming down her face: "Everyone, look, we—"

She pointed a finger at the orphanage children, who were crying so hard their noses were running: "We have no parents, no relatives, only Mother Director. The government subsidies barely managed to raise us. But we also want to contribute to this world. We worked hard to raise funds, and the money will be used for charity. We're already struggling so much, and yet we're still having our only money stolen by this boy, who is doted on by his parents and lives a wealthy life!"

She scooped up a skinny child and placed him next to the boy who resembled a human pig.

She even added dramatic musical accompaniment: "Little cabbage, yellow in the field~ Two or three years old~ Motherless~ Bullied~ Beaten~"

You wouldn't believe it, but singing that little ditty really set the mood.

It even stirred righteous indignation among the onlookers.

"God, it's too much to say such things about a poor child."

"This woman is truly wicked!"

"Doesn't she look a little familiar?"

" haven't you heard? She's Dr. Smith's wife."

Mrs. Smith was about to suffocate—God, why were there so many bored people? They were even calling out her identity!

If her respectable neighbors heard about this, what would they think of her?

That damn, wicked little bitch. Her son was just a little mischievous, was it necessary to make such a scene? She deserved to be abandoned by her parents!

"What exactly do you mean?" she asked resentfully.

"It would have been better if you had said that earlier."

Hearing this, Eliana's spirits instantly lifted.

With a carp flip, she sprang up from the ground, lifting a face that was smudged with dirt but couldn't hide its beauty, looking exceptionally well-behaved: "Madam, I don't want anything, but your son stole our donation jar."

"Ha—" Mrs. Smith sneered, as if she had finally regained her sense of superiority. "A donation jar, yes, I suppose that's quite a fortune for you people."

With a snap, she opened her bag and rummaged through it aggressively.

Eliana seemed unfazed by her contempt, her smile unwavering: "Yes, it's just a donation jar, but it contains at least a week's worth of hard work from the children at our orphanage, who woke up early and stayed up late, and the kindness of many good-hearted people, unlike you."

Mrs. Smith's rummaging paused: "What do you mean?"

Eliana said with a smile, "What I mean is, your compensation should perhaps cover at least a week's worth of wages and food expenses for the children at the orphanage, as well as that full jar of donations from caring individuals."

Mrs. Smith shrieked, "You wicked girl—you're blackmailing me, aren't you?"

"How can you say such a thing?!" Eliana took several steps back as if deeply hurt. "I haven't even asked you for a specific amount; isn't all of this up to your conscience?"

Then she suddenly leaned in and whispered to Mrs. Smith in a voice that only she could hear, "I recall Young Smith is supposed to start at a very good middle school in September."

"I imagine such a good school would also pay attention to a student's moral character—they certainly wouldn't want a scandal like 'Shocking! Orphanage Child Disrupts Opening Ceremony, Reason Revealed to Be a New Student...' right?"

"You've already experienced my talent for causing trouble, haven't you?"

Mrs. Smith's teeth looked as though they were about to shatter. "You—what exactly do you mean?"

"You need to add more money, Madam."

Eliana smiled sweetly and innocently.