The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 387 Ch.386 This is life

"The lunch at the workhouse was very good."

"People who have not lived here have no idea that you can actually enjoy meat soup." The man handed out the soup and chanted loudly: "That's meat soup, Holy Father!"

Soon, one of the children whispered in a low voice.

"Yeah, I guess there should be a huge urn somewhere in the county."

"The directors would gather around, cut off a piece of meat the size of a fingernail and put it into the jar to boil."

"And then to the workhouses throughout the county."

The talkative boy was hit on the back of the head by a director who was passing by. He grimaced and dared not say anything else.

"Roland, have you heard?"

There was only one person between him and Roland, so they quarreled every day.

"I heard that James Jones seemed to..."

Little Roland frowned and put the bowl down.

"Yam, what's wrong?"

"I heard that she seems..." The boy glanced around and spoke in a low voice: "...she seems to have become the new guest."

pat.

The burred wooden spoon in his hand fell into the turbid soup.

Invitees.

Little Roland knew.

Those were words that Yam never allowed him to touch, meddle with, or even discuss with others.

Invitees.

Who invited you?
Directors.

Who to invite?

Muddy toes in the workhouse.

doing what?
Little Roland didn't know that he had an enviable face, but he didn't have a pair of eyes that could see the truth.

He fumbled and grasped the prickly handle of the spoon, stirred the bland soup a few times, picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp.

“…Yam is fine.”

He muttered.

"Oh, of course. I tell you, your 'mother' is very lovable..."

The chatterbox boy glanced at his blind friend with a sly look. He was obviously aware of what was going on between adults, and perhaps he had speculated countless nights about how happy the shivering would be after those three or two minutes.

"Did she touch you?"

Roland was puzzled: "What?"

"I said, did she touch you?" The boy grinned: "Not on the face. You know, just some..."

The more Roland listened, the more he felt something was wrong.

Until the boys at the same table started to make a noise: "What he means is, Roland! Are you a little husband? James Jones's little husband! Hahahaha——"

Bang.

Dishes and bowls fell, and shouts and cries mixed together.

…………

……

Sometimes people's malice is just for no reason.

Or maybe it's because it's fun, or simple sadism drives them to have some fun, to find a good target among the crowd to play with.

Often at this time, the real authorities do not think that these "troublemakers" who stir up trouble are the culprits.

For example, Director Abner and Director Miguel.

They agreed that the workhouse trained men as well as women.

If a man loses in a dispute, it's because he doesn't have enough supporters, isn't popular enough, and has been defeated repeatedly in battles - and at the same time, he has a face that's prettier than a woman's.

Then, he is unqualified.

It is a weak defective product.

Defective products have no right to reason.

He deserves the bad luck he deserves long ago.

Therefore, what is right and wrong in the workhouse is different from what is right and wrong in the entire county or the entire country.

Every time little Roland was locked up in the cold cellar and chatted with the bugs that crawled over his palms, forearms, and into his collar, he was expecting one of the directors, who smelled of sweat and walked heavy, to really stand up and speak for himself:

"Roland! James Jones! These two have a hard life! You are not allowed to bully them and spread rumors anymore! "If a director really does this, like a hero, he will swear to all the powerful people in the world:

When he grows up, I will repay him.

But little Roland often thought the other way around: What can he do in return?

Two or three penny gifts every week?
crunch.

The cellar doors were gently pushed open.

Someone tiptoed down the stone stairs. Little Roland was familiar with these steps. He was different from normal people. He couldn't see, but his ears were very good.

"Yam?"

The man came without saying a word, walked through the barrels and abandoned shelves, came to the corner, and squatted in front of the boy who was bent over.

"You damned thing, do you want me to worry to death?"

The woman scolded him, saying that he was ignorant of the seriousness of the situation and had fought with the three or four boys, leaving him with injuries.

Little Roland closed his mouth and let her play with his hair, look at the bruises on his body, and press them a few times with her rough fingertips.

"Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt."

If he dared to cry out in pain, Yam would say: Do you feel the pain now?

"Being tough won't make you more manly, it will make you as despised as a drunken idiot."

“…It hurts a little.”

"Do you know it hurts now?"

Little Roland: ...

"You sharp-beaked bird, you keep pecking here and there. Don't you know they are in the same group?"

Little Roland turned his face away and avoided her hand: "They said I was your little husband."

Yam smiled freely: "Oh, I want a pretty little husband like you... Roland, you promised me that you wouldn't fight with others, right?"

"They insult you."

"What kind of insult is that?" This was the difference between Jaime Jones and the women in the workhouse. In some ways, she seemed to see much further than them. "What kind of insult is that? Child, it's a solid compliment to me."

she says.

Roland blinked: "Why?"

Yam just smiled, but he swiftly reached into Roland's clothes and applied the cold ointment on his back.

"Don't fight with others anymore. That's disgraceful. Don't listen to the directors' talk about sticking out your chest and clenching your fists. You have to rush forward for a little honor and dignity. Roland, the Father of All Things may not have given you a strong body, but he gave you a smart mind."

"Use your head, Roland."

"That will be better than a thousand pairs of fists."

The boy in Yam's arms was not satisfied with what he said: "...but I still want a strong body."

Little Roland didn't know what the brain could do, but he knew that a pair of powerful fists could definitely solve the current problem.

"I've already told Director Miguel about you, Roland, listen."

She pressed the boy's shoulders and spoke word by word:
"He promised to find a priest from the county, a real priest, to come and see you... After that, no one can accuse you of being evil..."

Little Roland was a little worried.

“…like?”

"Yes, just pretend." Yam stroked his soft hair and comforted him: "My child has been seen by a pastor, and there is nothing wrong with him - just this 'look'."

"When it's done, no one will dare to say anything bad about us anymore."

Roland asked in a low voice: "...He won't hit me?"

"I won't hit you." Yam pinched his nose. No matter how he looked at her, he felt that his child was cute and pretty, and would definitely be a popular child in the future. "At most, I can get some water, or touch your legs with branches and leaves. It's much easier than punching those bastards while you're eating."

Little Roland was silent for a few seconds.

"That…"

He suddenly raised his head.

"Director Miguel, sir, he's your husband now...right, Yam?"

The woman was silent for a few more seconds.

He just hugged Roland back into his arms and patted him on the back.

"this is life."

"Roland."

(End of this chapter)