The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 509 Ch.508 Negotiation
Roland didn't pay much attention to the fate of the Hines family.

Ever since he heard Randolph say that the two men who were almost smarter than pigs had come to Shelley, he knew their fate.

Maybe Rose is kind and would only steal the savings of the old man whose wife and daughter died, were raped and abandoned, and who is old and unattended and relies on the savings he accumulated when he was young. But old Tom and Rose's "father" James Shelley would not do that.

People always have to pay the price for their stupidity, and the size of the price depends on whether you stick your head into the crack of the railing or into the mouth of a lion.

He briefly mentioned what happened at the Fountain of Youth to Yam and his uncle, and neither of them was too surprised - recent newspapers were full of comments about the "mare", from Bellos Taylor's morality and upbringing to Randolph's personality and beliefs.

Praise, speculate, clarify, and refute.

The newspapers were buzzing with activity.

Newspapers made a fortune, their writers and critics could open bottles of fine wine, their 'tips' could buy a small bag of the finest candy, and newsboys and busybodies provided them with all of the above.

Yam was anxious, but old Collins seemed very calm, as if he had seen the world.

"Don't worry about him, Yam. Our precious Master Collins has his own ideas. You see, he can come and go without asking for permission now. He is a man who can do 'big things'."

Yin and Yang weirdness.

Roland raised his eyebrows and shut him up with just one sentence.

"Are you guys familiar enough to call each other by name?"

Paul Collins: …

"We are already friends, Roland."

"You two are actually friends?"

"you this…"

Yam was laughing beside him.

Look at Roland and smile, and also look at old Collins and smile.

She hung up an apron, which was not very clean, and she sewed a beautiful cat's paw print on it.

"Is it really okay?"

Yam dried his hands, walked around the counter, and naturally smoothed down the raised corners of old Collins's clothes.

Roland told her not to worry and told them that they would be ready to take up their posts at the Fountain of Youth once the winter was over.

This time, the owner of the herbal medicine shop could no longer maintain his calm expression.

The two eyeballs bulged like blown-up bubbles.

"What did you say—" He coughed violently a few times, his fat face flushed: "What did you say?!"

"I said, I want to eat shortbread today... something like that with strawberry jam."

"Eat your—" Feeling the stroking from behind his clothes getting slower and slower, Old Collins had to force himself to swallow the dirty words that were about to come out of his mouth: "…Say it again, no kidding."

"The Fountain of Youth is waiting for you to take up your posts, two store managers." Roland touched the cupboard and slowly walked to the sofa. He leaned back and lazily fell into the softness. "Randolph and I have agreed that you will be busy by then... Am I a little late?"

"It's not too late at all." Old Collins raised the corner of his mouth, angrily: "At least you didn't wait until my funeral to 'remember'."

Yam patted his back helplessly, and looked at Roland with a somewhat reproachful look: "How could you make such a request, silly child? How can we take care of a store? We are lucky enough to take care of you and provide you with food and clothing."

Old Collins, owner of the herbal medicine shop, independent entrepreneur in London:?

James Jones has a natural inferiority complex and resistance to the so-called "high-level".

In her opinion, let alone the "Fountain of Youth" in cooperation with the Taylor family, even an ordinary small store can only be tried by extremely smart "geniuses of the times" or "big men with rich backgrounds".

That's Taylor.

Every week a messenger would come to deliver cigars to Roland.

She does have some insight.

A box of cigars costs at least a dozen shillings. "Golden Smoke"? Limited edition?
James Jones didn't want to mess up Roland's business and damage his friendship with the bigwigs because of his stupid brain. As long as she stayed at home every day, she wouldn't get into any trouble, right?

"It's too late, Yam."

Roland crossed his legs, but before he could finish his words, Yam tapped his toes, so he had to sit up obediently.

"It's too late."

"What's late?"

"We have decided."

"What do you mean by 'we've decided'?" Puxiu Collins couldn't help but raise his voice: "Don't we need to ask the parties involved about this?" "So I'm asking now." Roland crossed his legs, held up his cheek, and spoke lightly as if he was talking about shortbread with strawberry jam: "You make the choice... Do you agree?"

Old Collins frowned: "If we agree..."

"I'll work in the shop after winter."

"If we don't agree..."

"The Fountain of Youth went bankrupt, the Taylor family suffered huge losses, all the money I had saved was lost, my friendship with Randolph Taylor was broken, London exploded, and the world was destroyed."

Paul Collins: …

This is called a choice?

James Jones knew Roland well enough to know that the boy was up to no good again.

"You're always like this."

She took off her apron and sat down next to Roland.

"We can't do this, Roland."

Roland did not answer, but talked about another topic: "Uncle. I remember you complained that there were few people and many poor people on Fleet Street. You dreamed of opening a shop in the West End - you said that, right?"

Old Collins rubbed his hands and just smiled at Yam.

"Yam, I'm also going to buy you... oh, I should say us, a big house. Then, we can run the shop during the day, and have dinner together when the sun goes down... and raise a few strong hounds and a few pampered cats - isn't that good?"

Yam glanced at Pushou Collins.

She could see that someone was interested.

This is indeed a good opportunity.

Although she did not understand chance, business, art, and politics, she understood men.

They need to conquer the 'world' - not the world in the literal sense, but the fire in their hearts that will never go out no matter how old they are.

This flame will be extremely strong when a man is young, and then gradually weaken as time goes by.

But just one chance.

It will once again be like the steam that opens the spout of a kettle, bringing with it the expectation of "maybe...", and using its loud whistle to wake up the soul that has been sleeping soundly for many years.

This is what men hate the most.

This is also the best part about being a man.

thought James Jones.

Puhu Collins would have agreed.

But he was also worried that he might get anxious or have other considerations, so he became hesitant.

James Jones is well aware of this.

"Maybe we can divide the work?" Yam stroked Roland's black hair. "Your uncle will do this job, and I will prepare dinner for you at home. Roland, stop bargaining."

"I have to find something for you to do..." Roland muttered, "Then I'll hire a few teams of maids and teach you to scold them when you're bored. If you find anyone hiding jewelry or talking about your husband, bury her in the garden."

Yam pinched Roland lightly, and said angrily and amusedly: "I should have planted you in the garden!"

"Ahaha."

She didn't seem to hear the word "husband" in the words, but her face trembled slightly and her expression became unnatural.

She rubbed her neck, as if the house or her heart was on fire, making her restless.

"Please, please don't ask me for advice on your men's affairs anymore!"

She quickly stood up, left the couch and went to the kitchen.

There was water in the kitchen, but it was hard to say whether it could put out the fire that was burning vigorously without firewood.

“So…” After Yam left completely, Old Collins spoke nervously: “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll mess it up?”

"No," Roland replied sincerely, "I have seen your caution in the matter of Yam."

Old Collins: ...

Fuck you.

(End of this chapter)