The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 223 Ch.222 Christmas

Christmas is coming.

In fact, Roland didn't look forward to this festival very much: every winter, people froze to death in the workhouse.

Maybe they were familiar to Roland but not familiar with them, maybe they were his close friends.

Gradually, Roland disliked winter and this festival that never brought hope and joy.

The directors filled the banquet with songs and wine, and for a week, the aroma of roast chicken and steak sauce floated in the yard. James Jones once gave him a small silver cross for Christmas one year. Later, because of 'some Cause', it's lost.

He never received another gift.

Until this Christmas.

His Christmas with Pugh Collins.

"My boss originally wanted to invite you to spend this holiday together, uncle." Roland took off his coat, stamped his feet at the door, and brushed off the winter feeling: "But she is obviously not sincere, is she?"

Pugh Collins took off his hat and put it away, leaning on his waist with one hand, and said in a strange tone, "Oh, you want me to spend the holiday at the same table with your woman?"

"What should she call me? What should she say? 'Uncle Pugh Collins? What a great nephew you have?'"

Roland:......

"It's really great."

"I can't see that woman. She is at least thirty years old, right? I advise you to make plans early - when she loses interest in you, maybe she won't have so much preferential treatment."

"Uncle, I didn't get much preferential treatment in the trial court."

"Now, as a human being, the most important thing is not to lie to yourself."

-

Why do you talk so much?

"No preferential treatment? You've been idle all day long, and recently asked William to make you a whip - you think I don't know... don't know... this whip..." The old man's words became more and more vague, and his eyes flicked at Roland's hand. , immediately turned away and turned around to go into the house.

-

whip?

-

What else does he know?

The flame is straight and quiet.

-

wrench?

-

A small wrench? -

My dear, favorite, most important wrench.

"It's not that you don't let me talk."

-

Merry Christmas.

"Stop doing this!!"

Roland curled his lips.

The room is exceptionally warm today (perhaps because of the holiday, old Collins said today, "Let the flames burn my flesh and blood" - under this banner, unlimited fires are burned, warmth is inevitable)

"It's time for us to shovel some coal back. Uncle, do you prefer firewood?"

"Don't be so weird to me, you know it costs money to shovel coal?"

"I have plenty of money."

"Oh, you got it with a whip? Promise me, don't let me see whip marks on your body."

One old and one young, you say one thing and I say the other.

An oil lamp was lit in the house, and old Collins used the oil lamp to light the gas lamp.

He deliberately spent a "big price" to buy some holly branches and a crooked "small tree" - the drug store was like a forest that had been cut down several times, revealing poverty and stinginess.

"I now earn a hundred pounds a week."

"Well, I know, and our Majesty the Queen handed it to you on her knees, didn't she?"

"How do you know?"

"The Collins family talks like this. Boy, take the plate over... You didn't invite anyone else to come over today, did you?" Pugh Collins stuck out his butt and dug out a few more delicate dishes, cutlery and forks from the depths of the cabinet and handed them to him. Roland suddenly became vigilant again: "I don't want us to be eating and drinking when a woman I don't know suddenly knocks on the door..."

Roland couldn't help laughing: "Just the two of us, uncle——"

Before old Collins could breathe again, Roland continued: "There are a few more at the same time..."

"Roland Collins."

"Just the two of us."

Old Collins gave him a blow on the head.

"Go quickly. I made turkey and meat pudding, and why is the sofa you bought different from the one William said?"

Roland came to the dining table, placed the tableware, and asked without looking back:

"What's 'different'?"

"The brand you mentioned. William has never heard of that brand - but he knows the logo on the butt of the sofa."

Roland turned his head and seemed a little confused: "Maybe the clerk made a mistake."

Pugh Collins said with a smile: "Maybe some little bastard deceived me."

A crudely made sofa from a different brand only costs about ten shillings, but the one Roland bought was a 'brand' one.

William is a leatherworker and he knows this famous brand.

‘I don’t know what the price is these days, but the one half a year ago cost at least three pounds. ’

Fortunately, he had left the old mirror frame and wooden drawers on the sofa.

Old Collins learned this 'secret' that day. The first step when he returned home was to move the 'garbage' around the sofa. Then, he used his thinnest face cloth dipped in warm water and wiped it carefully four or five times - -Even after doing this, I still feel uncomfortable.

God knows how many scars he had scratched on that leather surface before.

This is all money.

"You should have told me earlier."

"And what are you going to do? Hold the couch against your head so it doesn't come into contact with anything but your scalp? If you could, you'd probably be making another couch buck in no time."

"I think I should put you on the head."

Roland lowered his head and said nothing.

Old Collins didn't want to be like him now, he held up his crotch and said, "If you dare to say 'it's okay', just eat standing up."

This dinner is definitely the most sumptuous meal of the year at the Collins family.

Old Collins also poured Roland a glass of wine that was said to be "treasured for many years".

"Merry Christmas, Roland."

Old Collins clinked glasses with him, and when he wanted to say more, he looked at Roland's face and didn't know what "more" meant.

He coughed twice and asked unnaturally: "...Satisfied."

"What?"

"I mean, cough, I mean...me."

He scratched his neck and pulled the silk bow tie that Roland gave him for tonight: "...Am I...a...competent...uncle?"

He stuttered, as if as a man, saying such "feminine" words really made him feel ashamed.

But Roland didn't.

He smiled and looked gentle: "I think..."

"There is no more competent uncle than you."

He said.

Push Collins lowered his eyes and stared at the calm red wine in the glass: "...That's good."

The two men were silent, silent.

Suddenly.

A sharp and piercing noise after friction sounded in the room.

Puxiu Collins suddenly stood up from his seat, staring out the window in surprise, and then looked back at Roland.

He ran to the corridor with his belly protruding, took off Roland's coat, put it on him, and pulled him out without saying anything.

Out the door.

The winter wind rushed into his neck.

In addition to the whistling wind, there were also bits of ice chips hitting his face.

It was snowing.

Puxiu Collins stood behind Roland, pushing his shoulders, pushing him out the door, to the street, and under the snow.

"Roland."

There was pity and a trace of undetectable sadness in his voice.

"It's snowing."

He said.

He held Roland's wrist, opened his fingers one by one, asked him to open his palm, and let this invisible person use his palm to welcome the falling, solidified gray and cold raindrops.

He supported him, raised his head, and looked at the gloomy sky.

Cherry-Chloe, wearing a dark blue fur coat and holding a silver-lined parasol, stood not far away with Nina, quietly watching Roland.

"You have grown up, my 'little brother'."

Cherry's voice was gentle, penetrating the snow and memories: "You are becoming more and more like a man who is truly worthy of love."

Roland said nothing.

"You have learned to be deep without a teacher, little blind man... Yes, then look up and show your jawline--" Nina squinted her eyes and poked Cherry-Chloe beside her with great joy, laughing without any image: "Oh, he looks like a decent person now, right?"

Cherry smiled: "This shows that we have good taste."

"Of course." Nina covered her mouth and let the tears flow across the back of her hand.

Roland looked at the parasol and silently brushed off the snow on the shoulder armor of the silver knight who was kneeling beside him.

-

Merry Christmas, Wrench.

"Merry Christmas, Roland."