The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 493 Ch.492 Wells’ Confession

Wells had employed several men of great power.

They all had one theory for the creaking symptoms in his body: He was told to seek help from a doctor, not a mystery.

They said: This is not something ordinary people can bear.

They say it's not something you can afford.

They told him that the short-lived happiness and half-day relief would only make him crazily dependent and chase an unfulfilled bubble forever.

They warned, and warned many times.

Wells Sr. now knows.

These people, like the 'gentlemen' whose titles are longer than the middle section, all look down on him and are trying to fool him.

Miss Xander Collins was different.

She is a true believer, a devout believer who deserves to be blessed by the Father of All, a good and kind person.

Wells was satisfied and silently prayed for her. He would rather live twenty years shorter than seek mercy from the benefactor for her.

- They had a nice dinner in the West End.

Then, we went to listen to a musical.

A few days later.

Xander Collins came to the door on time every day, euphemistically calling it 'a guest' - in fact, Old Wells knew why she came.

Help him take away the pain.

She spent money to pack up a team of maids, footmen, coachmen and cooks to facilitate his daily life and go shopping.

She often brought works by famous painters or essays by poets, wrote them down herself, and read them to him. During these slow and lazy days, old Wells had an illusion:

If he had a daughter, she would look like this.

to be honest.

He doesn't want to die now.

Not at all.

Xander Collins ignited his soul and gave him renewed hope in life.

He wants to live.

A life that never quits.

‘Good day, Mr. Choker. ’

This is Xander's joking name for him - being able to say this also proves that Wells has completely come out of that self-destructive mood.

‘Good day, Miss Saint. ’

This was the elder Wells's nickname for Xander - a compliment to her kindness, but also an endearing joke.

The old man's thin flesh and blood became increasingly abundant under Miss Saint's care day after day.

The flesh and blood under his skin gradually swelled and opened its folds.

There is color in the face, and the cheekbones are no longer so abrupt.

He transformed from a skeleton into a human being, and even his voice became much louder. He could shout from the living room to the dining room and then to the kitchen.

He can walk on his own without help from others.

even.

He began to look at the short, flat-nosed, flat-footed young maid from time to time.

That was his body reminding him that he no longer needed to worry about survival and it was time to meet his next goal——

then.

On a night when crows were flapping their wings, Old Wells called her into the moonless cellar.

Perhaps because of his poor background, even if he became rich, fell down, and became rich again, he still liked girls with the style of his wife:

Strong and powerful, with a gravelly and rough voice, a pair of big feet, and a heavier body odor would be better - a bit like a wild animal.

After that day.

The maid with broad feet often went upstairs in the middle of the night to serve the old master's room.

By the way.

In addition to taking away the pain and bringing a new life to Wells, Zander also gave him a stack of plans for the future: investments.

Land, minerals and railways are not allowed to those who do not have the upper surname of the extended family. The tobacco, wine and textile industries were also dominated by those new rich people - Xander had no foothold and could only find some fragmented industries for him, seemingly inconspicuous and small investment projects.

They were then lined up and selected by the elder Wells.

This is not enough for his extravagance, but it can definitely allow an old man to spend his old age peacefully.

However.

John Wells' luck didn't end there.

A few days later.

The maid with the gruff voice is pregnant.

Old Wells was so happy!

You know, he once thought he would never have children in this life.

Because of the curse of youth.

'I don't know how to thank you, Xander. ’

He said this.

'You gave me a second life. ’

That day, the old man in his nightgown cried and laughed. In the quiet guest room, he knelt down in front of Xander and wailed for half an hour. What happened these days was like a vivid dream.

He almost died, but miraculously survived and resumed the life of a wealthy man.

This experience made him start to think about something that was really right.

"I want to use the money to fund the workhouses in the City of London."

Crying, he told Xander.

Because in the beginning, he climbed up to another class through the workhouse.

"I provide them with..."

The old man fell to his knees and cried bitterly.

Perhaps it was the life that would come in October that made him fearful and face the sins he had committed - perhaps only fear.

But Xander knelt down, held his palm, and told him gently:

Not important, sir.

If you repent, the Father of All will listen.

He spoke intermittently, making a vulgar and boring story seem even more vulgar and boring than the story itself.

——In addition to homeless people and women who are homeless and unable to do night work, the most popular people in the workhouse are children.

What could John Wells do with these kids?

The answer is self-evident.

"At that time, I was still in the south. I took the opportunity to become the messenger of the director of the academy..."

He confessed to the girl who was closest to God in front of him, hoping that through her, he could deliver his confession to the Kingdom of God, hoping that the Father of All Things would have mercy on his children and ask Him not to punish his only offspring...

"I can't remember how many..."

"Maybe dozens... maybe hundreds..."

Those boys and girls who didn't know anything yet were coaxed to different "good places" where they could "eat well and wear warm clothes" in their ignorance and hope - the lucky ones among them became toys for enjoyment, and the unfortunate ones became daily necessities or furniture.

The even less fortunate ones became consumables for banquets.

John Wells had witnessed those cruel scenes that were not limited to blood and minced meat. He had seen them become hounds, hounds' wives, horses' wives or toilets, became "gifts" in some ghostly rituals, or rags that were never allowed to walk upright again.

Old Wells had been prepared. He didn't need to confess, and he knew where he would go after his death.

But now he began to fear.

He would not die in late winter, and slowly become rich, and he could choose his servants at will. He could start collecting art again, spend his free time at the theater, and go to various salons to talk about national affairs or horse racing, croquet, and boxing with various people.

He could even go hunting occasionally, even if it was just a half-afternoon walk in the woods, with a couple of drinks served by servants.

He had children.

Maybe there would be more children in the future.

He would live another ten years...

No.

Twenty years.

He didn't want to suffer anymore, nor did he want his descendants to suffer at all - he had to find a way to pull the scale back from falling to the other side.

"As long as you do it, the Father of All Things will see it."

The girl was as gentle as ever, and gave him an answer that reassured him.

Old Wells decided.

He would use one-fifth of his future income...

No.

At least half.

To donate to the church and the poorhouse in the city of London.

He wanted to atone for the sins he had committed in the first half of his life.

Just like what Shandel said.

As long as he does it.

The Father of All Things will definitely see it.

The old man cried until his eyes were swollen. When he left the guest room, he frightened the pregnant maid. He saw her worried face, but he was happy, as if he had regained the feeling of his youth.

The feeling of a man.

The powerful feeling that made women cry, horses surrender... or vice versa.

This feeling not only made his heart beat strongly, but also made him laugh at his previous self.

Wells, Wells.

Only cowards would commit suicide.

What kind of witchcraft has bewitched your mind, so stupid that you want to freeze yourself to death?

He lay on the bed, hugged the well-behaved maid, and thought about his equally bright future like a great man.

Then.

The next morning.

In his cramped, cold brick house full of insects and ants and stench.

He woke up.