The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 917 Ch.916 Bai Cui, Tears of the Benefactor, Ore Fire, White Coal
Roland told them about the "punishment" he received at home, which made them laugh so hard that they fell backwards. Theresa smiled and patted Roland on the shoulder, saying that what his parents did was "absolutely right": they should teach him, Randolph, and these bad boys who liked to leave without saying goodbye all day a lesson.

Betty asked Halida why she didn't come.

She still missed the silver butterfly a lot.

"She's with Yam, dear."

Roland said, playing with Wendy's chin with his finger - the kitten has been getting along well with Taylor's family recently. It seems to be the 'cheerful' Beatrice, getting along with everyone regardless of class: for example, the chef.

According to Theresa's "accusation", this little bastard could often be seen holding a fish in his mouth, walking with his head held high across the second-floor carpet, jumping onto the balcony, and after finishing the meal, he would start to eat it with relish, ignoring the lady who was the second most powerful owner in the house.

She went to the kitchen and said it several times.

Then, the whole fish becomes fish meat.

later.

It turned into dried fish again.

——Thank you, our family never eats dried fish.

Who is this for?!

"Wendy Wendy, how are you doing?"

Beatrice: “Great!”

Randolph: "That's too bad, Roland."

The brother and sister seem to have different opinions.

"It destroyed a lot of Betty's jewelry and ate two of my letters."

"…eat?"

Randolph nodded. "Eat. The little bad boy you brought seems to like the taste of ink very much."

"Because we are 'cows'...right, Wendy, little Wendy?" Roland lifted the cat high up, swung it in the air for a few times, and soon its nose was pressed by its paw pads.

Beatrice fell into Bronte's arms with laughter.

"I know I shouldn't say this," Randolph took the opportunity to move closer to Roland and muttered in a low voice, "But every time you come back, the atmosphere always changes - this is my home."

Roland gently put the cat down.

“…Maybe, we have been a family for a long time.”

Randolph squinted his eyes: "When will I cry to make myself look more serious about the relationship?"

Roland asked about the big machines on the road again. He had only been away for half a year, but it seemed like a different era. By the way, he didn't have time to ask Enid about this yesterday.

There is no 'idle' either.

He is very busy all the time.

"Oh, you said 'mine cart'?"

Randolph raised his eyebrows.

They had talked about the 'mines' and 'white clay' earlier, and even Roland's departure from London for the town of Inns in Lancashire was due to Randolph's friend Victor Sarah.

His brother died on the white earth.

He would naturally keep an eye on this harmful thing.

"…heard the government found a way to use it…the 'harmless' kind."

After the ladies left, the two gentlemen cut off their cigar caps, leaned back on the sofa as if no one was around, and started puffing away while shaking a whiskey in one hand and holding a cigar in the other.

"It's not uncommon for machines to replace human hands, but this time it's different."

Weaving looms or the huge furnaces that powered trains still required human control.

This 'minecart' is different.

Using highly concentrated white clay that has been distilled (or otherwise, Randolph couldn't figure it out) as 'fuel', coupled with some mechanical 'logic procedures', can allow a fool to operate it skillfully.

you could put it that way.

If the 'white clay' advertised in the newspapers - a revolutionary energy source - is really as harmless, convenient and efficient as they say, then the 'mine cart' is just the beginning.

Mine Cart. Sailing Ship.

train.

even…

The ultimate human desire envisioned by celebrities in recent newspapers: the sky - perhaps it is no longer a fantasy.

"I don't understand the principle, but I know that a true businessman should be at the forefront of all trends... So, do you want to take a look? The Taylor family bought one."

Roland was a little surprised.

He had heard from old Tom about the attitude towards the "machine", and naturally understood the attitude of these nobles, or those who thought they were noble, towards machines and horses - just as they did not use portable stoves and the simplest method of making tea like the poor.

The more complicated and primitive it is, the more 'noble' it is.

"…They should eat raw meat, and preferably not use 'fire'. No one can be more 'primitive' than this."

As a businessman who supports the Gray Party, Randolph hates those old "retro" guys.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

He pinched a thick cigarette, patted Roland on the shoulder, and stood up from the sofa.

"It cost me a lot of money. New things are always expensive - wait for half a year or a year for mass production, and maybe people in the East District can afford it... It would be great if the Taylor family could invest some money."

The two of them went to the back garden while talking.

"Taylor didn't invest?"

"Some good things cannot be bought with gold pounds," Randolph said as he walked, ignoring the maid who bowed all the way, "such as the national railway, the clock tower recently, military industry, etc. - we merchants who don't have gold foil in our blood can't make big money... Oh, we are indispensable for war fundraising."

The businessman joked.

When it comes to nationwide fundraising for the war, it is a group of wealthy businessmen led by Randolph that are to blame.

'Mr. Taylor, if you really love something, you will be willing to pay for it.'

Randolph imitated those people's faces vividly.

"I reminded him to wipe his butt before his next visit and not stain my sofa."

Roland smiled and said, “Businessmen value every penny.”

"Of course, Roland. Although the donated money is equivalent to Betty's pocket money for half a year, I hate this kind of "voluntary contribution" - to be honest, the Taylor family can pay for part of the war, but they can't accept this group of people asking for it condescendingly..."

"We are not criminals, and the socks we sell on the cargo ship are not Victoria's own."

Roland: "I'll just pretend I didn't hear it."

Although he didn't think that the sweet lady's socks were worth much - no one could really have such a hobby... right?

Back garden.

In front of the silent frame, there is a silver-white machine 'hanging'.

Some parts were burned so badly that they looked like the brain of a steel puppet—a tangle of densely packed pipes, spiral springs, iron caps, oversized rivets, and steel bars bent by a wrench.

The plate-shaped 'steering wheel' was covered with cowhide, and the two wheels were highly aligned with the wheels under the carriage, with the exposed gears buried in grease.

At the very bottom of the side of the machine, there is a label nailed with brown leather, with the name of the device and the manufacturer engraved in small letters.

They call it 'minecart', actually, its original name was:
Baicui steam type II front-wheel drive engine.

"White Extract, Tears of the Benefactor, Ore Fire, White Coal - these are the names given to it by scholars, believers, nobles and citizens respectively..." Randolph touched the machine with the tip of his shoe: "It is much more expensive than a horse... maybe even more delicate than a horse."

Roland stared at the box-sized machine, and a strange feeling came over him.

Just as primitive man first discovered fire, flame first lit a cigar, and the cigar first glimpsed his rose.

In business, he was far inferior to Randolph Taylor.

Just like the other party couldn't see Roland Collins' back on the road of "mystery".

Mr. Golden Eyes smelled a salty smell in the grease of the rough fuselage.

The tide of the times.

(End of this chapter)