The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 337 Ch.336 Small talk

If you were to ask a rich man what he hated the most, Randolph Taylor had something to say.

‘I hate being in a small space with my sister. ’

Because there was nothing he could do to her, and the latter had too many plans to 'do' to his brother - he couldn't avoid it.

If you ask a rich man, is there anything more annoying than this?

'I hate being in a small space with my sister...At the same time, Roland Collins was also present. ’

That would be a disaster.

There is a hot stove in the specially-made, hard-decorated, shock-absorbing carriage.

The thickened box and the cleverly processed small parts between the shafts make it almost impossible for people in the box to feel too much vibration - coupled with the soft fur blanket and heated hot palm stove, it becomes a A tall and short tower of fruit plate and light incense.

Even those who ride such a carriage for the first time should know that it is very different from those public utensils that only cost a few pennies a ride.

This is a 'mobile little palace' prepared for a small group of people who have a special status, or who think they have a special status, and will never let their delicate soft boots, which cost half a worker's salary per button, step in the mud.

The Taylor family has this qualification and ability.

"Making money for what?"

A 'rough guy' like Randolph would not raise the issue to a philosophical or moral level like those newspaper mouths.

"Make money for enjoyment, Roland."

If roads allowed, Randolph could even build a carriage the size of a house for his sister to drive.

"While I understand, Randolph, I think the person Betty would rather ride is you."

Horse-drawn carriage design.

Randolph Taylor and Bronte sat on one side, Roland and Beatrice on the other.

"It's true that I haven't carried Betty on my back for a long time..." Randolph mixed the champagne in his hand with some nostalgia and tasted the past memories. He looked expectantly at the blonde girl who lowered his head and played with Roland's fingers: "Betty, I want my brother to carry me on my back again." You? Wait until we get home, just like when we were kids—"

Beatrice didn't even raise her head: "No."

Randolph: ...

Bronte: Pfft.

The businessman with a pointed chin looked complaining and glared at the person who started the topic, with "She doesn't want me to carry it" written all over his forehead - while the other party innocently spread his hands and wrote the answer on his forehead.

‘Don’t give up, rich man. ’

Bronte watched the two people bickering through Beatrice, which was very interesting.

Randolph Taylor rarely showed his "face" other than that of a businessman in front of outsiders - maybe to Teresa, but Bronte himself did not enjoy such treatment.

He is too busy, there are too many things to deal with every day, and there are too many entertainments to attend to.

He is shrewd, excellent, greedy, and devours what he deserves or doesn't deserve like a beast - the Taylor family thrives under his leadership.

He was good everywhere, but he just couldn't get Bronte to get close to him.

It wasn't until what happened to Victor Sara that she discovered that this gentleman also had a fragile...or 'human' side.

He might have just slightly opened a small corner of his face, but the warmth beneath it attracted a certain Charlotte to flap her wings excitedly, ready to put out the fire.

"I have sent people to investigate Bai Tu's matter. Roland, what did the Tribunal say?"

Obviously the 'adults' haven't noticed the dangers of this thing: they don't live in houses mixed with white clay.

"Madam, I don't know. This thing probably hasn't been in London for a long time. If you want to investigate, I suggest you start from the East and South Ends, start with those who can't afford food or housing."

Randolph pressed his tense temples... or somewhere else.

Everywhere he pressed he felt relaxed.

He has been too tired recently.

"I'm curious about what you will do after you catch the culprit."

Roland noticed something strange on his legs.

The cunning girl was raising her hands, and her two fingers turned into human legs, ticking and jumping left and right on Roland's legs. Then, the 'human' looked up and started jumping up and down the mountain.

Without saying a word, Roland tilted the 'little man' all the way up, over the hem and buttons, and over the smooth vest. When it was about to reach the top, he raised his five fingers and let the 'monster' swallow it in one gulp. The one who climbs mountains.

Beatrice yelled.

"There are monsters on the mountain, Betty, why not be careful."

Randolph rolled his eyes and answered Roland's question.

"If I catch him, he'll never do business in this country - I'll make him keep all his money in London."

"I thought you would..."

"What will happen, make him 'disappear'?" Randolph sneered: "Believe me, Roland. If a businessman loses his wealth, it will cause more pain than killing him."

Roland was noncommittal.

"But I don't think this is too small, Randolph, even I know how huge Baitu's profits are..."

Randolph nodded.

indeed.

If this thing spreads in London, and spreads before most people are aware of it, it will be an unimaginable disaster...

Endless hell.

Is the person selling it a fool?

How dare you spread this thing in London?

You must know that once this matter attracts attention, it is not difficult to follow the line to the starting point of everything.

"Randolph."

"Um?"

"I'm sorry about Victor Sala."

Randolph was silent: "... I thought you would accuse me of being mercenary, disregarding friendship, and having no morals..."

"Randolph."

Roland interrupted him: "You are definitely not a mercenary and disregarding friendship person."

Bronte: ...

Randolph: ...

So there is really no morals, right?

"I don't know who can make you really serious in front of it, Roland." Randolph had no way to deal with his young friend.

"Why are you so serious, Randolph."

Roland shrugged.

He was talking to his friend, but there was always a continuous faint knocking sound in his ears.

Ding... Ding...

Like the sound of a pointed hammer chiseling marble.

If he listened carefully, he could even hear the blasted stone powder rubbing against each other, vibrating in the air, being blown away by the wind, or falling heavily to the ground after experiencing a life of ups and downs.

Since Victor Sara's death, he suddenly awakened to this "extraordinary ability".

Another illusion.

Perhaps the knocking sound was a constant reminder to him of how absurd everything that happened in this serious, orderly world was.

"Ding-dong-dong..."

He leaned forward slightly so that Beatrice could pull the ends of his hair out of the soft sofa and hold it in her hands to braid.

She took off her own jeweled hairpin and pinned it on the ends of Roland's hair.

"Mr. Victor Sara is an out-and-out artist."

Randolph tilted his head and pulled aside the curtains: "He's a bastard, Roland."

"Let's not be bastards to each other."

These words covered the knocking sound and made Bronte stunned for a moment - she could hear the meaning.

Roland didn't say anything, and turned into a monster again, lowering his head to concentrate on dealing with the "mortal" who was trying to climb the mountain again.

"Stupid mortal! Raise your head! Face Collins' hand!"

"Hahahaha Roland you are so stupid..."

Sometimes it's impolite to think that Bronte really can't tell which of the two people is stupid.