CHAPTER 629: CHAPTER 620 ARMY DEER

When the noon sunshine extended from the yellow curtains to the foot of the bed, Jerome Bonaparte opened his eyes and turned to look beside him.

At this moment, there was no one beside Jerome Bonaparte, only neatly folded clothes.

These clothes were scattered on the ground early this morning. Yet now they were neatly placed on the bed, definitely the work of Lady Vierania.

"That girl..." Jerome Bonaparte said to himself with a helpless smile, "Didn’t I tell her she could sleep in today!"

After speaking, Jerome Bonaparte unfolded the folded clothes, putting them on one by one, then he got up and went to the copper washbasin in the corner for a quick wash before turning to open the door.

"I heard that there’s a man staying in Lady Vierania’s room today!"

"Really? That’s big news!"

"Yes! Lady Vierania is the dream goddess of the entire hospital! I bet many will be heartbroken now!"

"But I heard that the man with Lady Vierania in Paris has a lot of influence! Do you think it’s him?"

"No way! Did some prominent figure arrive recently? Oh right, His Majesty the Emperor supposedly came! Do you think maybe it’s..."

"How could it be His Majesty the Emperor! If it were him, would Lady Vierania still be here?"

"You have a point!"

When Jerome Bonaparte opened the door, he encountered two doctors discussing the man in Lady Vierania’s room.

"Hello!" Jerome Bonaparte greeted the doctors with a smile.

"Your Maj... Majesty!" one doctor responded in a trembling voice, unable to believe his eyes; the Emperor of the French Empire appeared in Lady Vierania’s room.

Even worse, he might have just said some disrespectful things that the emperor overheard!

The other doctor looked equally terrified at Jerome Bonaparte, finding the emperor in the Constantinople Military District Hospital to be a shocking occurrence.

"Do you know me?" Jerome Bonaparte asked the doctor with a surprised expression.

Although he was the Emperor, it didn’t mean all the subjects of the Empire recognized him.

After all, he had not yet become iconic like his uncle Emperor Napoleon, whose image was everywhere.

"Before I arrived in Constantinople, I was a doctor in the Strasbourg Military Region! I once had the honor of seeing you from afar!" The doctor quickly explained to Jerome Bonaparte.

"I see!" Jerome Bonaparte nodded and then said to the doctor, "Were you just talking about me?"

"Ah, no..." The doctor first denied, then nodded, admitting to Jerome Bonaparte, "Yes... we didn’t know your relationship with Lady Vierania!"

"As you assume, I am indeed the man you refer to as Lady Vierania’s paramour!" Jerome Bonaparte smiled at the two doctors.

Upon hearing this, the doctors almost collapsed in fear.

If they had known, they would never have gossiped behind his back!

"Don’t be afraid!" Jerome Bonaparte quickly reassured the doctors, "I’m not an unreasonable tyrant! Like you, I enjoy gossiping about things like why Franz Joseph always has a sour face or why Albert’s health is poor. But..." Jerome Bonaparte’s tone became a little stern, "Talk is talk, but don’t gossip behind people’s backs. Trust me, no one likes a rumor-monger!"

"Yes, yes!" The two doctors nodded and bowed in response to Jerome Bonaparte.

"Also!" Jerome Bonaparte spoke again, "Don’t mention to anyone that you’ve met me! Understand?"

"We will certainly keep it confidential!" the doctor hurriedly replied.

"Indeed! We certainly will..." the other doctor echoed.

Then, Jerome Bonaparte parted ways with the doctors and walked alone into the hospital canteen.

"Is the meal ready?" Jerome Bonaparte asked the chef at the window as he stood by the canteen entrance.

"Please wait a moment!" The chef, unaware of Jerome Bonaparte’s identity and considering him a figure like a general due to his distinguished demeanor, responded respectfully.

"Alright!" Jerome Bonaparte nodded, periodically glancing inside from the window.

On the other side of the window, the cook was working on a steaming tray of dark bread and placing compressed hard round cakes of marinated vegetables into boiling pots, adding already chopped minced meat.

About 20 minutes later, a steaming pot of vegetable soup was ready.

The chef at the window found a relatively large bowl and served Jerome Bonaparte a bowl of vegetable soup with more meat than vegetables. The original black bread was replaced with a softer bread, and he also got a glass of wine for Jerome Bonaparte!

"Here’s your lunch, enjoy!" the chef said to Jerome Bonaparte after placing all the dishes on the window ledge.

Looking at the soup and bread in front of him, Jerome Bonaparte shook his head and declined, "Please switch it to black bread, and there’s way too much meat in the vegetable soup!"

"Sir, someone as distinguished as you should have this!" the chef sincerely told Jerome Bonaparte.

"Do you recognize me?" Jerome Bonaparte curiously looked at the chef in front of him.

"No," the chef shook his head and replied to Jerome Bonaparte: "However, I’ve seen many generals, and none of them have the extraordinary presence like you, so I deduced you should be a general!"

"Something like that!" Jerome Bonaparte casually remarked and then reached out to push the food back, "Just give me the regular soldiers’ meal! Leave these for those seriously wounded soldiers!"

"Well..." The chef hesitated for a moment, but in the end, nodded in agreement, "Since you insist, I will respect your choice!"

Subsequently, the chef replaced Jerome Bonaparte’s meal with black bread and vegetable soup with just a few strands of meat.

The original wine was also swapped for a cup of coffee by the chef. For French soldiers, coffee is better than wine.

Because the latter is often in short supply, unlike the former which has no such worries.

"Thank you!" The famished Jerome Bonaparte took the food to the dining hall’s table to eat.

With a slight warmth, the first bite of black bread caused Jerome Bonaparte discomfort, feeling like he was chewing whole wheat bread, the sourness flooded his mouth.

Jerome Bonaparte had to force down the black bread and then gently blew on the heat floating on the vegetable soup, took a sip of it.

A sensation of overwhelming saltiness filled Jerome Bonaparte’s taste buds, reminiscent of the taste of a certain master’s old pickled sour beef noodles.

Jerome Bonaparte felt the vegetable soup in front of him could no longer be called vegetable soup, he might as well call it salty soup!

Those with slightly lighter tastes simply can’t enjoy this delicacy.

With both sour and salty sensations in his mouth, Jerome Bonaparte eagerly drank the coffee, the bitterness of which masked the feelings of black bread and vegetable soup!

Do they really serve this to patients?!!!

A slight hint of anger appeared on Jerome Bonaparte’s face, wondering who could actually eat this stuff.

Just as Jerome Bonaparte was about to stand up and settle accounts with the chef, a group of soldiers entered the dining room and told the chef at the window, "Quick! Give me a lunch, preferably with wine!"

"No wine! Only coffee, want it?" the chef replied nonchalantly.

"Fine!" the soldier decisively responded.

The chef began serving the soldiers, and one of the soldiers carrying the tray turned and saw Jerome Bonaparte, quickly approaching him enthusiastically asking, "Buddy, want to join us?"

"Sure!" Jerome Bonaparte smiled slightly.

The soldier sat with Jerome Bonaparte, and one of the soldiers sitting at the table with him carefully examined Jerome Bonaparte for a while and then, in an uncertain tone, asked, "Have we met before? I always feel like you sound familiar!"

"I wouldn’t know!" Jerome Bonaparte shrugged, pretending to respond casually, "Many people say I have a generic face; I look like everyone and like no one!"

Jerome Bonaparte’s remarks dispelled the soldier’s doubts, and he nodded, also responding to Jerome Bonaparte, "Who doesn’t have a generic face!"

After saying that, the soldier began munching on the black bread, as if the sourness of the black bread was nothing difficult for them, with no discomfort showing on anyone’s face.

"Don’t you feel it’s sour?" Jerome Bonaparte asked the soldier in surprise.

"Sour?" The soldier also looked at Jerome Bonaparte in surprise, then nodded, "Now that you mention it, it’s a bit sour! But it’s no big deal, it’s great to be able to eat this at all!"

"Yeah! Compared to Britain, we’re quite fortunate!" another soldier chimed in, "I’ve seen their food before, to be honest, what they offer is not much better than giving them a log to gnaw on!"

After speaking, the soldier took a sip of vegetable soup, with a happy smile blooming on his face!

Looking at the soldiers devouring their meal, Jerome Bonaparte fell into contemplation.

Is it really my problem?