The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 314 Ch.313 Isn’t this good?

Roland and his companions were a little late, and when they arrived at Taylor's house, it seemed that Randolph had been waiting for a long time.

He was wrapped in a thick windbreaker, and the scarf hid his small face tightly - plus a well-covering double-layered woolen hat, he looked as funny as a gray stone sculpture with a human face that was indomitable in the cold wind.

Then Roland smiled very impolitely.

Shandel glanced at Rose, and saw little Taylor rubbing his nose and laughing too, and he roughly concluded the relationship between them.

My thorns have made good friends.

"He probably didn't wait long, did he?" Roland stepped forward with open arms, hugged Randolph tightly, and asked Theresa, the old maid serving beside him, with a teasing look on his face.

She wasn't wrapped up as tightly as Randolph.

"Not long indeed."

The old maid glanced at the short beard on Randolph Taylor's lips and chin, and smiled in an intimate manner: "He shaved his face before coming out."

Roland smiled.

The three people were welcomed into the old house. On the shiny floor lay a sculpture about five feet tall. The sculpture was placed on a wooden frame, and layers of fine paper and silk cloth wrapped around it fell to the ground. Two young maids were bending over to clean it up.

Roland has two deepest impressions of Taylor.

The first is that every time he comes, Roland can discover something new - such as the ivory before, such as the sculpture today. Randolph loves these things, but he doesn't seem to understand them as well as someone who truly loves them.

Second...

"Roland Roland Roland!"

The sound of light and heavy footsteps.

Beatrice ran in front, and Bronte followed behind, holding up her skirt.

Then, the blonde girl fell into Roland's arms as all the ladies watched.

'That is not proper, sir.'

Theresa thought so, glanced at the indifferent Randolph, and sighed in her heart.

…………

……

Roland introduced Shandel to Taylor.

I also introduced them to Beatrice.

However, the painter obviously didn't like this "saint" very much - Roland felt that Beatrice had an outstanding perception in this regard, especially when she leaned over and whispered to Roland: "Xandel is terrible."

If she were a ritualist, she would definitely be considered one of the talented ones.

Beatrice: "I missed you so much."

Roland: "I miss you, too."

Beatrice: "You're not coming."

Roland: "I'm a little busy, Betty, but I'm thinking of you."

Beatrice: "Really?"

Roland: "I also brought you a gift."

Beatrice: "I have manners too - brother! Money! I want money! I know money!"

Cinder and Rose watched the farce in front of them silently, watching the blonde girl tease her brother, tugging at his sleeve in front of the guests, touching his pocket, and pulling out a few coins from it.

Roland guessed that Randolph had prepared it in advance.

"money!"

Beatrice clutched the coins, ignoring the helpless expression of Bronte beside her, and proudly grabbed Roland's wrist, opened his palm, and slammed the coins into his palm.

"Thanks, Betty, I need the money."

"You should thank me." Randolph said with a dark face.

Maybe it was the effect of Miss Bronte's daily company, maybe it was the blessing of the Father of All... or some God, maybe, all kinds of possibilities - Beatrice Taylor's "illness" was improving.

Not only does she understand "money", she can even compete with her brother in wits and courage.

——Although most children could see through that little trick, it was still a very gratifying progress.

For example, she likes to use various methods to cheat or steal money from his pocket.

Then hide under the bed.

For a merchant family, this was undoubtedly a very good sign: if she hadn't said the following words.

'For Roland!'

"I don't have to thank you, Randolph. Betty gave it to me."

"They belonged to me before."

Roland pretended to think: "Oh, indeed. Just like those dark-skinned slaves once belonged to their own country."

Randolph laughed. Roland pulled out a few test tubes from the liner, and the men got down to business.

Perfume, the industry they collaborated on.

Thanks to Nina's memory, the handmade perfumes that Roland reproduced are more complex and clear than most on the market - these two words are not contradictory, and the more complex and clear, the more expensive it is.

Randolph was obviously very familiar with perfume and had previously investigated their "competitors".

It is no exaggeration to say:
This perfume is amazing.

Even though he has tried several of the most expensive ones on the market, he still has to say that it is awesome.

"Wormwood."

He fanned and sniffed again and again.

"It has a bitter and cold scent. Frankly speaking, I find it hard to believe that this perfume came from the fingertips of a newcomer who has never experienced apprenticeship and has no teacher's guidance or inheritance." Randolph applied the perfume on the backs of the hands of several ladies, including Theresa and Bronte.

"I don't know if it's my illusion, Roland, but this smell makes me feel very..."

He thought for a long time but couldn't pick a suitable one.

Bronte spoke at the right time, however, and used a wonderful word to describe it: "clean."

She lowered her head again, her eyes full of admiration.

"This smells 'clean', Mr. Collins."

"Wormwood, pepper, fir tree." Shandel was much more accurate than Randolph, "Like a solitary, unpopular gentleman - he is not popular, right? Mysticism, black, taciturn, even a little bit vicious..."

In just a few seconds, Shandel had carved a concrete, imaginable image in everyone's mind.

"We are always in sync, Shandel." Roland praised: "I just happened to name this one--"

"crow."

Shandel smiled and said, "I don't think he will like it, Roland."

Roland shrugged.

The second tube is biased towards ladies.

The third tube is still the same, but more youthful.

“…I regret not investing more, Roland.”

Randolph grew serious.

His businessman's acumen enabled him to immediately judge how much impact these treasures created by a young man would create in the future market - perfume is not something only used by aristocrats or bigwigs.

Every Londoner needs it.

Men apply it on the brim of their hats or lapels, while women spray it on fans, cuffs or floral decorations on their heads - regardless of their status, people need perfume all the time to cover up their smell and add charm.

The middle class has middle class brands, and the rich have rich choices.

Even poor families would occasionally give their wives a bottle of cheap, poorly packaged but fragrant, inferior violet perfume as a romantic gift during the holidays.

They love violets with all their heart.

Randolph originally thought that Roland had only heard some so-called "secret recipe" from some rare copy or someone else's mouth - you know, the truly expensive and sought-after perfumes have been blended countless times.

Beyond the raw material step, the extraction and mixing alone are already top secrets of every store.

This includes the extraction method, what solvent to use, and what proportions to mix the aromas in after distillation and expression to create the desired scent.

This takes thousands of attempts.

Each time it takes a lot of money and time.

"It seems that we need a resounding and extraordinary name." Randolph suggested and looked at Roland: "Chief Perfumer, what do you think?"

Roland said wait a moment.

What followed was a long ten minutes.

He considered it over and over again, and finally, in Randolph's expectation, he slowly said: "How about "Luminous Perfume"? "

how about it?
The only answer he got was deathly silence.

“Is this bad?”

Roland lowered his mouth and frowned as he explained, "'Luminous' means the preciousness of the perfume. At the same time, it is also as expensive and rare as a gem... Isn't that good?"

He even thought these people were a bit picky.

"How about a glowing perfume, or a jewel perfume? I think a jewel perfume would be nice too... a sapphire perfume?"

Shandel felt that Roland's hesitation between 'gem' and 'sapphire' was a rare 'genius'.

Randolph rubbed his face vigorously, looking a few years older: "Roland."

"Randolph?"

"Go paint with Betty."

(End of this chapter)