Blackstone Code: 441 wounds can be healed, but not the mind

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The broken glass is still spinning on the ground, and the clear vibrato still retains its aftertaste, and the air in the room seems to stagnate for a moment.

None of the people sitting beside Mr. Simon said anything. This is Simon's family business and they have no right to interfere.

The young man escaped from the dizziness. The moment he turned black and the sky was spinning in front of him, he kept his standing position steadily. He ignored the heat flowing slowly from his head, and still kept his humble, careful, and An expectant smile.

"Father, it's been more than two hours since I came to bring you some tea and cakes."

Mr. Simon glanced at the almost empty kettle on the coffee table in front of him, then said indifferently, "Put your stuff on the shelf next to you and go out, no one can come in without my permission, including You!"

The young man carefully put the tray with some tea sprinkled on the shelf aside. There is a place to put some small parts. There is a base with a very shallow soup on it. Small ornaments for pots, sunken in the middle.

You don't need to worry about "running" all over the place when such little bits and pieces are thrown in.

It's not a place to put a pallet, but it now hosts a pallet that doesn't belong to it and shouldn't be held by it.

"I left first, father, and gentlemen..." The teenager bowed and left, and there was not even the slightest sound when he closed the door.

At the moment when the door was about to close, the teenager raised his head, and in the narrow world of the door, his eyes and Mr. Simon's eyes met.

A look full of disgust, Simon has never liked this child, if it wasn't for the sake of getting along with the locals as soon as possible, if it wasn't to downplay his "foreigner" label, he wouldn't have married an indigenous woman here at all Another child was born.

A bastard, bastard, or whatever, in his eyes, this child is just a prop, a prop to maintain his image in the eyes of the locals.

But with the addition of foreign forces, those merchants in the Federation, and Preton's escape, these things have become worthless, and he has become more tired of this unpleasant child.

Compared to Mr. Simon's intensely hateful eyes, the boy's eyes were much simpler, full of expectations, humbleness, sadness...and despair.

The teenager still doesn't understand what he is doing is not good enough, so that his father never likes him, if he doesn't like him, why give birth to him?

Effort after effort can only usher in despair again and again, he seems to have understood that no matter how well he does, he is always just an unlikable child.

At the moment when the door was about to close, he lowered his head like he had done countless times before, and Mr. Simon's eyes were removed from him.

"Master..."

The housekeeper is standing outside the door, he knows what's going on, but he can't do anything.

Compared to Mr. Simon, a foreigner, he actually has a better impression of the young master at home. This may be because the young master has at least half of the Nagalil blood flowing through him.

The young man looked at the housekeeper, the blood had already dyed his face red, he grinned, "Father still hates me so much."

The housekeeper couldn't help but took out a handkerchief, pressed it on the boy's wound, and comforted in a low voice, "It's not like this, young master, in fact..." He wanted to make up something, but he found that no matter what Nothing can change this fact.

"Actually, the master has been in a very bad mood recently. You know, the Preton firm closed down, and the Baylors came here to grab business."

The young man was unmoved. He just used a sentence to make the old housekeeper speechless, "I am his son..."

Yes, no matter how bad a person is, it is impossible for a person to do such a thing, smash his son's head with a cup and let him get out, in front of many outsiders.

No matter how you explain it, you can't hide the cruel truth behind these problems. The owner of this family, Mr. Simon, just doesn't like his son, no matter how good he is.

The old housekeeper didn't dare to say anything, and couldn't say anything. The young man pressed the handkerchief with his hand, "Okay, grandfather housekeeper, don't worry about me, it was like this before, and it will be like this in the future... Once you get used to it, you won't feel anything scary."

"Your head...", the old housekeeper was very distressed, but he saw with his own eyes that the little young master changed from a little bit bigger to what he is today, and the little young master is also very polite, and the housekeeper grandpa bought it Butler's heart.

But there are many, big problems between the father and son, and he can only choose to remain silent.

At this time, seeing that the young master's head was broken, he really had the urge to ask Sir Simon why he did this.

"There's not much bleeding anymore..." The boy loosened some handkerchiefs a little, but he couldn't feel the new heat coming out of the wound. In fact, the opening was not big, but the blood flow was a little too much, it was just scary.

Now it's been pressed for a while and the bleeding has stopped.

The old housekeeper was still a little worried, "Young master, go to the yard, and I will ask the family to treat your wounds..."

The teenager nodded, "Excuse me, and don't let my mother know about this."

The old housekeeper nodded again and left quickly. The boy walked to the corner of the yard and found a place to sit down. Not long after, a 30-year-old maid walked over quickly, holding a A medicine chest.

Sitting in the shade under the tree, the young man calmly looked at the street scene in the distance, and the sadness in his eyes could not be undone by the remaining sunlight.

"Thank you!" After the maid helped him deal with the wound, he turned around and thanked the other party for his sacrifice. The maid also knew the situation at home and comforted the boy a few words before leaving.

Just as the teenager was about to go back, there was some commotion outside.

A group of young people gathered, they seemed to be arguing, as if they had something to do with foreigners.

He stopped and watched for a while, then went back after feeling bored.

He knows that what Mr. Simon dislikes the most is his association with rambunctious people, and he has few friends of his age.

He didn't know that at this time, he fell into Mr. Simon's eyes.

"After all, it's an indigenous bastard..." Mr. Simon in the room took off the cigarette in his mouth, exhaled a thick smoke, and turned to look at the others.

This child he didn't like was quickly thrown out of his mind, and he is now most concerned about what the Federal Merchant will bring, and what it will bring to him.

"The Nagalil Joint Development Company does not agree to our shareholding. If we cannot make a shareholding, it means that we cannot get the quota..."

The gentleman who is talking is also not a local, and is also a businessman from abroad, but living in the local area, "I have inquired about some internal information through some connections, and they also plan to take all the business as the firm did before. export trade.”

"Major shareholders can export or import anything at will, while small shareholders have to rely on quotas to import and export. Their management is stricter than that of Preton's group."

"If we can't join the joint development company and get some stock, it means that our goods can't get out, and the outside goods can't get in, and we will immediately lose the way to make money."

Another gentleman tapped the coffee table with his hand. He picked up the kettle and poured himself a glass of water. He took a big sip of water, "Have you contacted Lynch? I heard that we got one here. His subordinates, why should he be on an equal footing with those consortia?"

Others looked at Mr. Simon, who was still smoking by the window, and the child he disliked disappeared into the yard before he looked outside again.

At this time, the person behind asked, he nodded immediately and replied, "I have already sent a letter, no matter what, I will find a way to see him."

"As for why he can be on an equal footing with the big consortium, maybe it's because he represents the interests of the federal president."

His words startled everyone else, "What new news do you have?"

"No news, just speculation." Mr. Simon extinguished the cigarette in his hand, walked back to the sofa and sat down, pouring water for himself, while saying, "Lynch and True Mann has a good personal relationship and a good relationship with the President."

"It's hard not to imagine whether there will be some interest exchange between them, you know, if there is no president or Truman behind Lynch's back, those big financial groups won't take him seriously in.”

Another asked, "You mean there's very little hope, after all we're not fighting for Lynch's share, but the President's or Truman's share?"

Mr. Simon smiled noncommittally. He took the cup and drank it all in one gulp. After smoking for a long time, he was a little thirsty.

After putting down the cup, he said, "But whether I guess right or not, this is our last chance. I will try my best to get it, but we have to be prepared."

He pondered for a moment, "If the situation is not right, we will withdraw from Nagalil."

His expression was serious, which made some people a little uneasy.

After a few seconds, someone broke the uneasy atmosphere, "It's unlikely~IndoMTL.com~ Know that we are not these natives, if they do something to us, the only shame in the end is the Federation. !”

Mr. Simon thought for a while, and seemed to agree with his statement, but still remained cautious, "I hope they will take care of themselves and the country, but I am always worried."

"Actually, we have made a lot of money over the years. If we really can't, it's not impossible to take a step back."

"Although I lack some wonderful life in an apartment in China, I am more secure, and I am also a little homesick..." He looked up at a photo in the cabinet in front of him, with his wife, his children.

They have the same blood, the same skin color, the same eye color, the same accent, the same education...

That's his family!

That's his child!

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