Chapter 117 Ch116 Eternal Lies

Chapter 117 Ch.116 The eternal lie

The rustle and the crackle of fire drifted slowly.

A warm room in winter makes people sleepy.

Maomao Man, who had no tasks today, curled up on the newly bought sofa and took a nap, wrapped in a blanket.

The drug store owner is working at his desk:

Writing letters to women in Fork County.

——After he 'intercepted' a letter from Yam, the calculating old guy naturally couldn't let Roland spend money to find a 'ghostwriter'.

The job of writing letters became his.

‘How much money is ghostwriting a waste of money? ’

In the letter, he stated that he was Roland's 'uncle', and also talked about Roland's current situation and how he treated him well.

In short, the two people communicated frequently through letters:

At the beginning, the topic was indeed all about Roland.

But gradually...

I don’t know who attracted whom.

There was less and less information about Roland's daily life in the letters, but they became more and more familiar with each other.

One time, Roland also caught a glimpse of a short poem attached to it...

-

I asked why my two handwritten poetry collections had ‘disappeared’.

"Are you feeling a little complicated?"

-

A little.

"Haqiu."

Roland sneezed.

Old Collins raised his eyes and said, "If you're sleepy, go upstairs and sleep. If something goes wrong due to the cold, you'll have to spend money to treat it."

"I am not sleepy."

"You are like those cats on the eaves, no one cares about you, and you can sleep twenty hours a day."

Old Collins rubbed his shoulders and put down his pen: "...I heard that you recently arrested a 'cultist'?"

Roland tightened the blanket as if nothing had happened: "Mr. Dewinson caught him."

"Don't lie to me, I heard everything Anna said."

Old Collins walked around the counter, picked up the teapot from the stove, sat down next to Roland, and filled him with hot tea.

White mist rises from the spout.

"I'm not saying that what you did was wrong, but you should stop dealing with those dirty kids, and stop seeing old dogs and ducks. I also hope that you will buy a house in a good area one day."

Old Collins rambled on, criticizing his neighbors for this and that, without realizing that he also lived here.

Then, he told Roland not to show off his power everywhere just because he had an 'identity', and then be punished by his superiors.

Go less to shabby places and have less contact with shabby people.

Let him try to take the right path and get in touch with the best people.

Ask him to take care of himself.

Especially the waist.

You are still young and consume too much. It will be difficult when you are old, etc...

"I can't say a few serious words."

"I know."

Roland moved his butt to the side and leaned on the back of the sofa in an imageless manner.

"The sofa is so comfortable, uncle."

"Bullshit," old Collins glared, "because you're sitting on a pile of money."

When he mentioned the sofa, his heart twitched.

Roland bought it.

It's just too expensive.

This kid doesn't know how to save money at all. If one day he gets married and finds a woman who also doesn't know how to calculate, their lives will become increasingly difficult.

well.

Fortunately, he has me to take care of him and teach him more while he is alive.

"This sofa is of no use at all. You should save the money, Roland."

Old Collins was reading endlessly while enjoying the comfortable sofa.

Roland raised the corners of his mouth slightly and covered his face with a blanket.

"It's okay if you don't listen. Do you know how many years I have lived? I am familiar with life, I am familiar with every street nearby, and I know the price of everything."

"...Today you buy a sofa, and tomorrow you have to buy carpets, lampshades, fine candles and soap. I'm not stingy, it's just life, Roland, you must learn to calculate...Roland? Roland?"

Roland didn't move.

Old Collins had a dark face and lifted the blanket covering his head——

"...Ro...Fake!"

Someone rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and acted like "I've been suffocated to death", which almost scared the old guy into cardiac arrest.

"You little bastard."

Old Collins punched Roland on the shoulder. He couldn't hold it back for a long time, and he started to laugh.

"You can't just listen."

Roland snatched the blanket back and wrapped it around his neck, "I'm listening, uncle. But that's the money I earned, and I should be able to control it myself, right?"

Old Collins opened his mouth.

indeed.

"You can't sit on that chair every day. The legs of the chair are loose. How many times have they been repaired? It's troublesome to move them around. With a sofa, you can sit here and have a cup of tea or drink comfortably after your daily work. Wine, a few sips, and some sleep..."

Old Collins fell silent.

A chill slid across his skin and rushed to his head, making his eyes sore.

He turned away and scratched the back of his head.

Clicking.

"...I know you are good to me, Roland. I also think about you. If you save this money, you can't live here forever like me."

"Who will take care of you if I die?"

Roland yawned again: "...Let's wait until you die."

Phu Hugh Collins:…

Didn’t this little bastard have anyone teach him how to speak properly?

"Many people asked me how the children were doing..." Old Collins was speechless and stared at the red fireplace. "Church...I mean, you won't kill him, right?"

"Those children have just moved here, and although their mouths are not clean... how can any of the people living here be clean?"

"Young people have this kind of virtue. They only learn to restrain themselves after being beaten."

Roland shook his head slightly.

"Uncle, no. I'm just giving them a little lesson - lock them up for a few days and scare these scoundrels who are bolder than the sky. What do you think?"

Pugh Collins groaned.

"It's okay to close it for a few days."

The uncle was thinking about neighborhood relations and Roland's future popularity, but Roland didn't think so.

Cherie Chloe thing…

Taught him a lot.

That Mr. Abbot, his companions, parents, and family were indeed only locked up for a few days.

Just thirty ‘days’.

At that time, Fernandez will issue a certificate stating that he is a "suspected cultist but no evidence was found after review" - in other words, this is a normal and routine inspection. They were lucky, no problem was found, they served jail time, paid the money, and could get out.

Several months in prison.

I hope they can spend a full and enthusiastic winter in the cold and humid prison, and then come out to face the few remaining pockets and the good reputation of 'suspected cultists'.

“Benevento has been all over the newspapers lately.”

Phu Hugh Collins said suddenly.

The murder case at Chloe's house was in full swing, and he couldn't possibly be unaware of it.

Roland stared at the flickering candle shadow and remained silent.

"This counts..."

Old Collins thought for a moment: "Retribution?"

In order to protect the reputation and dignity of the deceased, the newspaper only speculated on the cause of death and did not elaborate on the 'death conditions' - for example, in what state, in what position and in what appearance the two people died.

However, the newspaper was not as good as the eloquent and eloquent people who were present.

This story spread far and wide, even wider than Cherry Chloe's.

The law cannot judge two dead bodies.

Words can.

For example - people are extremely keen to discuss the size difference between these two upper-class people and the lower class people like them.

Then, feel proud.

'Half a spoon, less than two inches - benefactor! Even women know that two inches can’t do anything! ’

Anyway, the rumors are getting weirder and weirder.

Old Collins stroked the weed-like beard on his chin.

"Thank you, uncle." Roland lowered his eyes.

"We are a family, Roland." Old Collins gently lifted the blanket and grabbed Roland's hand. There was nothing but sincerity in his cloudy eyes: "Promise me, Roland. After I lose my son, I will not I will lose you again."

The big hands that grind medicine and cut thorns all day long are covered with calluses. When he grabs them, the back of them will feel a little stinging.

"Promise me, Roland."

Old Collins seemed to notice something.

Maybe a little.

But he would never dare to 'let himself believe', and he would never ask Roland.

He just wants an eternal lie.

"Promise me."

He said.

Roland smiled softly and held Pugh Collins' hand back: "I promise you, uncle."