The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1029 (Ch.1028) Heart-Burning
Green Cohen knew this would happen.

He knew it all along.

At birth, while suckling his mother, the first time he wet his pants, touching a chisel and deerskin, the first time he bought flowers for a woman, kissing her, or searching for a lake or cave—at every pivotal moment in his life, he dared to speak with conviction:

He knew it all along.

As for the empire's 'bad guys' and 'bad gang'—of course, the queen is good, a good girl, a good wife, but she can't stand that some people are racking their brains to deceive her all day long.

"Look at this thing, we really shouldn't have listened to them."

Inside the simple wooden house.

The man, straddling the stone post, spat into his palm, rubbed it to warm it, picked up the chipped shovel at his feet, and dipped it into the mud to stir it.

With a shortage of staff, doctors and caregivers are busy taking care of screaming patients, leaving those with mild symptoms or their family members to take care of their own lives—just like in the city.

But in the city, at least they have shelter from the wind and rain.

what is this?
Green Cohen grew angrier and angrier, and suddenly threw the shovel to the ground.

The baby in the swaddling clothes was startled awake.

His wife, who was pretending to be asleep against the wall on the wooden bed, raised her head, tightened her arms around the baby, and glared at him reproachfully as she skillfully opened her shirt: "You should go out and yell at those soldiers who are guarding us."

Mentioning the soldiers only fueled Green Cohen's anger: "They actually dared to send people to watch us! I've never seen anything like this... anything like this..."

The woman, head bowed, soothed the child and replied indifferently, "It's not always like this."

"How can it always be like this? They're cheating and deceiving our government and His Majesty—"

"Shh..." his wife urged him to keep his voice down, "...This is the best outcome. Staying in the city, we might get dragged to the police station any day...and it would have been a waste of time...at least there's a doctor here..."

Didn't they move here with their whole family precisely because of the doctor?
How much does a doctor in the city cost?
It's harder for the poor to see a doctor than to see the Queen: at least the fat woman on the float doesn't charge by the minute.

“But how can they let us do the house repairs…” Green Cohen wasn’t just complaining like a rich man—as long as there was a house that didn’t let in the wind, or even a tent, and a couple of meals of black bread and cheap beer, he would sew his lips shut.

It won't be opened next year.

Look at it now.

Even the wine and whiskey were bought with money pooled together by the doctors—no one could go into London, but trucks came quickly.

The price of the goods was six or seven times higher than the usual market price.

"They said this was at least somewhat conscientious. I really wanted to punch them twice..."

The wife glanced at her husband and sneered, "Since we got married, I've never seen you dare to fight anyone—I'd rather hear news of you beating someone up, going to the police station to beg for help, and getting a few slaps on the butt from the detectives..."

Glynn looked somewhat embarrassed and stammered, "This is not the time to talk about this."

He was indeed a coward.

But there's nothing wrong with being cowardly.

Is it wrong to survive?

"You should say, 'I never cause trouble for the family...'"

The wife rolled her eyes: "Yes, yes, my good husband, he never causes trouble at home... alright? If you're angry, vent it in the mud—there won't be any candles tonight."

The middle-aged man, sullenly rebuked by the woman, lowered his head and resumed his repair work.

Judging from his muttering, he's clearly still grumbling.

"I'm just worried about little John..."

There was a pause.

"and you."

The wife remained silent.

Little John, still in his swaddling clothes, clutched his mother's milk can, completely unaware that he had fallen from one hell to another—for a child who cannot get out of bed, there are no worries like those of adults.

"...We have to thank those doctors."

The wife sighed, "They are all kind-hearted gentlemen... and young ladies. How can we repay them?"

The husband, stirring the mud bucket, remained silent.

He knew the man with the long face was called Kingsley, and there was an older one who was their 'leader,' I think his name was Jenner… and there was also a Miss Nightingale who brought baskets of clean drinks and easy-to-eat bread…

There's also Little Leighton.

A mentally unstable little lunatic.

They're giving completely nonsensical orders. And there are many more.

Many surnames and first names, or nicknames, drifted through the ward in the afternoon heat.

Some patients remembered their names, while others only remembered the titles 'doctor' and 'caregiver'—Green Cohen prayed silently in his heart, using all sorts of prayers he could remember, incoherently matching the frequency of his wrist stirring…

That's for the future.

Green Cohen murmured.

"All I want right now is for you and John to get better quickly... Then we'll put together some money and ask your friend's son to write a letter to the newspaper... These are the people who are the hope of the empire."

The woman frowned: "It would be better to buy some fruit and meat and send it over..."

Money should be spent wisely.

The husband shook his head: "Are they short of money?"

"What's the use of a newspaper?" the woman coaxed the child softly. "We're not short of money, and we don't have unlimited funds—I think when we get back to the city, we'll buy some meat...and good wine. Remember to ask them for their address..."

The man shook his head again.

"What do you know."

"What do you mean 'I know nothing'?!" The woman's delicate eyebrows shot up. "Go ask Miss Nightingale if you want to put an ad for her in the newspaper? What good is fame? Besides, do these doctors need you to spend so much money praising them? You might as well ask for their addresses and send them some food from time to time..."

The husband grew impatient: "I told you, these people have plenty to eat and drink!"

“Whether we need it or not isn’t up to you! If a reporter asks, then you can tell the truth! There are always people getting involved in these doctors’ stories; it’s not your and my husband’s business to waste our money on this—you ungrateful wretch! If we get involved and cause trouble, I’ll really go to the police station—”

The husband was taken aback.

"You just said you couldn't wait..."

The woman pretended to look for something to throw at him, but after searching for a while, she found nothing around the wooden bed.

Upon seeing this, the husband burst into laughter.

“Tonight…” He rubbed the dry mud off his palms, looking at the plumpness on the wooden board, and felt a surge of heat in his heart.

His wife rolled her eyes at him, then bent down and shoved the milk can into the child's hand.

Green Cohen chuckled and stirred the mud bucket even more vigorously.

Wait until evening…

Wait until evening.

until night.

He had an incredibly passionate dream.

In the exhausted firelight.

Amidst the earth-shaking roar.

Green Cohen thought it was a dream and instinctively reached out to touch something beside him, only to be jolted awake by the pain.

The distant shouts gradually became clearer and more real.

The man shook his still somewhat dazed head and squinted as he searched for his pants and shoes.

No.

The surroundings were all red.

The red came alive.

He felt every hair on his skin stand on end, the dense, narrow pores repeatedly expanding and contracting, trying their best to give the body's owner even just a little more air.

flame.

He was surrounded by flames.

Suddenly waking up, the man scrambled to his feet and, as always, with a sense of hardship but also hope, looked toward the wooden bed that was just inches away.

as usual.

The wife is holding the child.

The two slept peacefully forever amidst the billowing black smoke.

(End of this chapter)