The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 408: Old Collins's unique skills

Chapter 408 Ch.407 Old Collins's unique skills
Puxiu Collins imagined countless scenes of meeting Yam:

For example, what they talked about, how he should show a certain degree of stability and profound knowledge, how to reveal that he had "a lot of savings", how to express his appreciation for her - all kinds of things, including another possibility, old Collins thought of it.

That is:
Yam Jones was not as elegant, kind, and gentle as she appeared in her letters, and her appearance was not as Roland described.

'Everyone thinks Yam is beautiful.'

Even if such a situation occurred, old Collins thought of how to deal with it, how to handle it lightly without embarrassing everyone.

look.

Even the most knowledgeable people can slip and fall.

Old Collins is now.

He had never imagined that since arriving in Fork County, in this shabby town, he would become fucking invisible.

A tavern called "Dogtooth".

Apart from the messy conversation in the background, the main tone came from two people other than him and Rose.

"How are you doing in London? Oh, are you?"

"Look, you've lost weight again... Is your work going well? Do you have enough money? I know, I told you not to send me money... I've saved it all for you..."

"Yeah, London is great... the air isn't great?"

“Isn’t it much dirtier than our place…”

"You're wearing too little, Roland. Have you forgotten how you got sick when you were a child?"

"Why didn't you notify me first?"

"You've made a lot of friends, right? Let me see your hand. Did you get hurt again?"

"How much do you usually eat? You need to eat more. Tell me, what did you eat yesterday? Was there anything prepared for you in the car? What time do you usually go to bed? How do you get up in the morning?"

"you…"

you you you.

It's all Roland.

Old Collins, like a wrinkled walnut kernel, sat in his chair in a sullen manner, glancing at the golden-eyed boy from time to time.

but.

James Jones…

really not bad.

Time has given her extra rewards.

——For old Collins, he didn't like Lillian, a young girl with 'frivolous beauty'.

He liked Yam, the experiences she described in her mouth and letters, the gentle words and the indifference behind each symbol.

There were indeed traces of time on her face, but that did not fade her beauty. Instead, it made her even more attractive to a man who wanted to possess her exclusively. He put his strong arms around her shoulders, which would melt if touched, and pulled her into his heart.

Yes.

They communicated incredible feelings through incredible methods.

How would she see herself?
"Cough cough."

Old Collins coughed a few times on the pretext of something happening.

The three of them turned to look at him.

"…The beer here is good, how about some whiskey?"

Only then did Yam Jones realize that he had neglected this 'pen pal'.

So, he brushed his hair, called for someone to serve him a few special drinks, and introduced softly: "There's nothing good to go to in Fork County, Mr. Collins, but the beer is really good, and this is a new style. I see that men all drink it. It's in a glass bottle."

"It seems that you really have an extraordinary research on wine."

Research shit.

He usually drinks whiskey and cheap barrel beer, which is not what he calls research.

At this moment, the middle-aged man suddenly discovered a problem:
Perhaps, James Jones is James Jones in the letter.

But this was not the same Paul Collins as in the letter.

Perhaps he had attached too many things that did not belong to him, so that he was now particularly nervous and annoyed.

Angry at my own stupidity.

This mouth should be sewn shut.

"…To be honest, this is not really a research, ma'am. I, I usually…" Old Collins scratched his head and told the truth: "Roland knows that I rarely get drunk. I just take a few sips every night to help me sleep."

Yam Jones looked tenderly at the embarrassed man in front of him.

He is the same as in the letter.

He likes to brag and take on too much, but he is also absolutely honest and outspoken about some things.

He hated those half-baked and fake people, but he really agreed with her words: being elegant does not mean having to be hypocritical.

He had many thoughts, which were shameful for a young man to talk about, but in the letter, he did not hesitate to be evaluated in this way and told her everything.

"You look a little different from what's written in the letter," Yam looked at him and said softly, "You are more handsome than I thought."

Roland said "Oh", "So, you thought there would be a bear coming to meet you?"

Rose couldn't help laughing like a wild girl.

"Luo, Lan, Collins..." Pushou Collins gritted his teeth, but still had to maintain that 'decent' smile on his face - it was a bit scary.

"Don't talk like that," Yam patted him on the back and looked at the girl diagonally opposite him.

The wild girl's laughter stopped abruptly.

"…I'm Vansittart. Lillian Rose Shelley Vansittart, Ms. I'm Roland's…good friend, um, yes…I, I came with him and took a look at the family business. I'm the heir of the Shelley family, I can read, and I've been taking over the family business bit by bit recently…"

Roland held his chin and lip-synced in a direction that only she could see:
Liar.

The girl clenched her fists under the table and smiled brightly: "I see that you are elegant and gentle, so you can teach a considerate gentleman like Roland. You may not know that we worked together in London and rented a shop together and started a small business..."

Small industry?
Yam was naturally curious.

"Well, yes, a small business." Old Collins began to cooperate: "A wonderful perfume, Ms. Jones. I don't take credit for it, and I can't say that - but occasionally, I mean, occasionally, I do talk to Roland about something -"

"For example, which kind of grass and flower petals together can produce a better and longer-lasting aroma..."

Old Collins held his head high, but looked as if to say, "This is not my credit."

"That's right, Ms. Jones. Mr. Collins came up with a lot of ideas. But it must be said that Roland's genius ideas were indispensable. Me? I just executed them. As a loyal partner who firmly believed in his genius, I executed his ideas and made sure that no one played tricks in the whole process."

Rose said. "I have to protect Roland and this genius plan. My contribution is 'insignificant', ma'am."

When Rose and old Collins' eyes met, they saw the same thing in each other's eyes.

Roland rolled his eyes secretly.

One had only heard of this "industry" and continued to fiddle with his own herbs every day; the other, under the guise of a partner, only stayed in the store for twenty minutes every day and was never seen again.

If we were to say who has contributed the least to the "Fountain of Youth", it would be these two.

"Really, Roland?"

Yam was surprised after hearing this and turned to ask him.

at this time.

Two strong gazes were directed at Roland at the same time.

'You know what to say, boy/pretty face.'

Roland thought about it, and under the nervous gaze of the two, he touched the rare bottle of wine on the table and pushed it towards his uncle.

"They are right, Yam. Without the help of these two, there would be no Fountain of Youth."

Roland seemed a little excited when he mentioned this. He pulled Yam's arm with his eyes out of focus.

"Not only that, Yam, let me tell you, uncle is not only that, he has many good tricks that he hasn't had time to tell you - about wine? There are few people who know more about it than him."

“He could even tell whether a wine was good or…bad by looking at his fingers and the width of the mouth of the glass, the humidity inside the bottle, and the residue left when the wine was shaken.”

A look of suspicion appeared on Yam's face.

A feeling that she hadn't had for a long time, but was very familiar to her, gradually came back.

"Is...is that so?" She looked at old Collins hesitantly.

How can I retreat at this time?
The man who was being stared at by his pen pal rubbed his hands together with a proud look on his face.

This whiskey doesn't look very good.

It might be a bit of a stretch to say he used his fingers, but he could definitely taste the difference.

"Of course, just as Roland said."

Puxiu Collins raised his head, opened his palm, and motioned Yam to watch: he poured part of the wine in the glass bottle into the empty glass, leaving a certain amount at the bottom of the bottle, and then put his index finger into the mouth of the bottle.

The thick fingers twisted left and right, and the drill cursed.

But I finally got in.

"Well…"

He shook it and made up a pretentious excuse: a special method, if you insert your finger into the bottle and then use your other hand to gently tap the bottle.

Match with the wine at the bottom of the bottle.

Many bad wines should be exposed.

The sound is different.

It's all experience.

"That's not entirely true, ma'am. But I can say that I haven't made any mistakes so far - although this has nothing to do with 'wine tasting', it's at least an interesting approach, right?"

Yam felt more and more that his 'familiar feeling' was not wrong.

She wanted to slap Roland in public, or twist his ear like turning a key.

But he's grown up and can't do this in public.

"…gentlemen."

"Let me tell you, it's not that difficult. I usually don't do this because I don't want to ruin the drinking atmosphere. You know, I don't like whiskey..."

"Mr. Collins." Yam raised his voice.

"I take whiskey like I take herbs… Ma'am?"

"Your finger."

"Oh, fingers. Yes, a stick will do, actually." Old Collins hooked his fat finger through the bottle mouth and grinned, "It's a bit undignified."

"No," Yam rubbed his forehead and said helplessly: "I mean, how are you going to take your finger out?"

Suddenly there was silence.

Pushu Collins was stunned for a few seconds, then he pulled it out subconsciously.

Didn't come out.

Hold your breath, and pull it out again with a "hmm."

Still not out.

The 'pop' sound of pulling out the finger was like the Father of all things - how much you wish He could bless you now, and how unlikely it is that He would bless you now.

At this moment, Rose beside him pressed her face with both hands and pushed her face back with all her strength.

The eyes and mouth are stretched out.

Look at Roland again.

He did the opposite.

After pressing it with both hands, push it towards the tip of your nose with all your strength.

It becomes a chicken beak full of wrinkles.

The similarity between the two people is that if you can't hear the 'grunts', you will definitely not notice that they are laughing.

She laughed as happily as if her dead mother had suddenly resurrected in public.

Paul Collins: …

He shook off the glass burden that was 'growing' on his index finger.

Like a personal weapon that always accompanies it.

Through the glass, that index finger had gradually surpassed its other brothers.