The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 62 Taylor's Little Fox

The cigar was burning lightly.

People also spoke lightly.

They talked about their injuries, their stories, some trivial matters, and their superficial views on the city and people - mostly dissatisfaction and laughter and cursing as if they were sharing a common enemy. As they talked, they also talked about their own life experiences.

Randolph seemed to know Roland's past, so he didn't talk much about it out of politeness. But when he talked about himself, he was not shy.

"My mother died when I was three."

Randolph leaned back in the sofa, unbuttoning the bottom button of his vest. "She was ashamed. Maybe it wasn't just the cold she caught while traveling with my father that killed her. Maybe it was the shame. Maybe it was."

Roland held the teacup and couldn't see Randolph's face clearly.

He was surrounded by cigar smoke.

"She was ashamed of having given birth to a ..."

Randolph Taylor paused for a moment, then put his cigar between his teeth and took a long drag.

"Betty..."

His face suddenly emerged from the smoke, and there was scrutiny in his narrowed deep blue eyes.

But the voice was light and casual.

"I'm sorry, Roland, I said too much. I thought Lady Chloe told you everything."

Roland lowered his eyes and rubbed the rim of his teacup.

"I heard about it."

"Oh?"

"She said you were a smart man, Randolph."

Randolph looked unconvinced and raised his eyebrows. "Me? I guess she wouldn't say that. Although it's not gentlemanly to talk about someone behind their back, I bet, Roland, that sharp-toothed lady would never comment on me so peacefully."

Roland tilted his head and thought for a moment, then corrected himself: "Smart animals?"

Randolph laughed.

He waved the hand holding the cigar slightly, as if directing the dance of the smoke.

When talking about Cherry Chloe and her husband, Randolph's face was full of contempt.

But he had no pity for Lady Chloe.

Don't feel sorry for this woman who married into a lord's family and "enjoyed a good life".

"Everyone should be aware of the cost behind what they do. You should understand what I mean, Roland."

He said something relatively cold, but Roland didn't think it was 'bad'.

"Every step has to be taken carefully. Women are often not sober-minded and are confused by many things, which leads them to do some irrational things..."

Roland shook his head and softly retorted: "Some people have no choice."

Like Cherry, he has come to this day with no other choice in many things - or maybe he doesn't want to.

"Maybe." Randolph replied vaguely, "Just like my mother..."

He chatted with Roland for twenty minutes, but he always avoided talking about his sister Beatrice. Several times, he clearly reached the door, but abruptly walked away.

Like a cunning fox, he carefully tested Roland step by step, little by little.

"I know all that, Randolph."

Roland blinked, turned his head to look at the man surrounded by smoke, and said bluntly: "What's the difference? It's the same as my eyes."

"She can see the world, but she can't see it clearly; I can see the world clearly, but I can't see it."

These words were like a breeze that blew away the smoke.

Randolph looked at Roland, and gradually, the corners of his mouth curled up.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly said:
"You are different from others, Roland."

Added another sentence:
"Not just the face."

This time it was Roland's turn to laugh: "Why do you have to mention the face?"

"I can't help it. Your face is too enviable." Randolph smiled more and more sincerely. He moved closer to Roland, bumped him with his shoulder, and took the cigar in front of Roland. He cut the cigar cap with a knife and stuffed it into his hand.

"Try it, it's a rare good stuff. You'll have to make a reservation when you get to the store."

It is like a soft and loose wooden stick, plump and elastic.

Roland pinched it, rubbed it around his fingers a few times, bit it with his teeth, and looked at Randolph.

The little wooden stick was tilted back and forth.

Randolph was amused.

Instead of using a stick of wood, he took a silver tin kettle-style lighter and held it, lighting it for Roland.

The outer flame licked the large-diameter cigarette butt, causing it to gradually turn red and hot, emitting a strong aroma of smoked caramel and coffee.

"Don't swallow it," Randolph warned. He watched Roland shrink his cheeks and then puff them out, gargle a few times, and then blow out a puff of smoke before slapping his knees and laughing.

"Look! I've taught another gentleman!"

The overjoyed man laughed and said, "You are just one step away from becoming a real man."

Clearly, conversations between men are starting to emerge.

Roland is not ashamed to talk about this.

On the street where the pharmacy is located, many things become common as night falls every day.

Men and women were in a hurry, one wanted to go home quickly after having sex and lie down to rest comfortably; the other wanted to finish quickly so as to earn more money from having sex for a few more people.

It's not that Roland doesn't understand.

"That's not what I'm talking about."

Randolph shook his head.

He told Roland mysteriously that there was a woman who was particularly famous in the circle recently.

"They call her Ms. Jasmine."

The man, who was in high spirits, described the woman's appearance and grace to Roland, saying how beautiful and elegant she was, and how lovable she was.

He boasted to Roland how much money he had spent on gifts to get her the chance to be alone, and said he had specially customized socks, jewelry, and shawls for her.

Roland listened with great interest.

But Roland couldn't make a complete assessment of whether this gentleman was like most ordinary people.

He gave off a somewhat similar vibe to Cherry-Chloe, and rather than showing off or showing off a man's love for a woman, his words revealed more shrewdness.

For example, he spent so much money and got such an effect after having sex with her.

"… I've made friends with those gentlemen. No matter where you are, you have to have something to talk about. I'm on good terms with Ms. Jasmine, so I might as well introduce her to a few famous ones—the gentlemen are happy to accept my favor, and the ladies are happy to say good things about me."

He squinted his eyes, just like a cunning fox.

"It's not easy to do what we do, Roland."

“‘Business is hard, human relations come first’.”

He said, laying the cigar gently flat in the sea-blue gilded porcelain ashtray.

“It’s so hard to make friends.”

Roland tilted his head and smiled, "I don't think it's difficult at all. Aren't we friends now, Randolph?"

The pale-faced man looked happy: "Of course, you saved my sister, and we will always be friends."

He picked up the cup and took a sip of coffee.

"If you need anything, the Taylor family will help you. Believe me, Roland, to a certain extent, this last name means gold pounds."

Roland responded cheerfully, his tone inexplicable: "Friends should help each other."

Randolph knew he understood.

"You are much more special than the other executors of the Tribunal, my friend. No, I should say that you are different from anyone I have ever met." He did not respond to Roland's words, but stood up and handed over his cane. "Come on, let's go see little Betty."

(End of this chapter)