blackstone code

Chapter 442 0441 Wounds can heal, but not the mind
The broken cup was still spinning on the ground, and the clear vibrato still had an aftertaste, and the air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.

The people sitting next to Mr. Simon didn't say anything. This is Simon's family business, and they have no right to interfere.

The young man escaped from the dizziness. At the moment when his eyes turned black and the sky was spinning, he kept standing steadily. He ignored the heat slowly flowing down from his head, and still maintained his humble, cautious, and expectant attitude. smile.

"Father, it has been more than two hours since I came to bring you some tea and pastries."

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

The boy carefully put the tray with some tea spilled on it on the side shelf, where some small parts were placed. There was a base with a small bowl that looked like a very shallow soup basin. Decoration, sunken in the middle.

When such small bits and pieces are put in, there is no need to worry about it "running" around.

It wasn't a place for a pallet, but it now carried a pallet that didn't belong to it, nor should it.

"I'm leaving first, father, and gentlemen..." The boy bowed and left, the door didn't even make the slightest sound when he closed it.

The moment the door was about to close, the boy raised his head, and in the narrow world with 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 building a good relationship with the locals as soon as possible, if it wasn't for downplaying the label of "foreigner" on himself, he would never marry an indigenous woman here and give birth to a child. child.

A bastard, a bitch, 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, the businessmen of the Federation, and the escape of Preton, these things have become worthless, and he has become even more disgusted with this unsightly child.

Compared with Mr. Simon's intensely disgusted eyes, the young man's eyes are much simpler, with expectations, humbleness, sadness...and despair.

The boy still didn't understand what he didn't do well enough, so that his father never liked him. If he didn't like him, why did he give birth to him?

Trying hard again and again can only usher in despair again and again. He seems to have understood that no matter how well he does, he is still just an unpopular child.

At the moment when the door was about to close, he lowered his head as he had done countless times before, and Mr. Simon looked away from him.

"Master..."

The butler was standing outside the door, he knew what happened, but he couldn't do anything.

Compared with 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 Nagalilian blood flowing through him.

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

The butler couldn't help but took out a handkerchief, pressed it on the boy's wound, and comforted him in a low voice, "It's not like that, master, actually..." He wanted to make something up, but he found that no matter how he made it up, he couldn't make it up. This fact cannot be changed.

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

The young man was not moved, he just used one sentence to make the old butler speechless, "I am his son..."

Yes, no matter how bad a person is in a mood, it is impossible for a person to do such a thing, smashing his son's head with a cup and telling him to get out. This is still 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 butler didn't dare to say anything, and he couldn't say anything. The young man pressed the handkerchief with his hand, "Okay, grandpa butler, don't worry about me. It was like this before, and it will be like this in the future. I'm used to it. I don’t think there’s anything scary about it.”

"Your head..." The old housekeeper was heartbroken. He had watched the young master grow from a papa to what he is now, and the young master was also very polite. A word of grandpa bought the housekeeper's heart .

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

Seeing that the young master's head was broken at this time, for a moment, I really had the urge to ask Master Simon why he did this.

"It's not bleeding much anymore..." The boy loosened some handkerchiefs a little, and he couldn't feel the new heat coming out of the wound. In fact, the wound was not big, but the blood flowed a little bit, which was scary.

After pressing for a while, the bleeding stopped.

The old housekeeper was still a little worried, "Master, you go to the yard, I'll ask the family to treat your wound..."

The boy nodded, "I'm sorry to trouble you, and don't let my mother know about this."

The old butler 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 maid in her thirties came over quickly, holding a medicine box in her hand. .

Sitting in the shade under the tree, the young man calmly looked at the street scene in the distance, the sadness in his eyes couldn't melt even the remaining sunlight.

"Thank you!" After the maid helped him treat the wound, he turned around and thanked the other party for his efforts. The maid also knew the situation at home, so she comforted the boy and left.

Just when the boy was about to go back, there was some commotion outside.

Some young people gathered together, and they seemed to be arguing, as if they had something to do with foreigners.

He stopped and looked at it for a while, then went back feeling bored.

He knew that what Mr. Simon disliked the most was that he was associated with those who were not three and four, and he had almost no friends of his own age.

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

"After all, it's an indigenous bastard..." Mr. Simon in the room took off the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and spit out a mouthful of thick smoke. He turned and looked at the others.

The child he didn't like was quickly thrown out of his mind, and what he was most concerned about now was what the federal merchant would bring, what it would bring to him.

"The Nagalil Joint Development Company does not agree with us to take a share. If we cannot take a share, it means that we will not get the quota..."

The gentleman who is speaking is also not a local, but also a businessman who is from abroad but lives locally, "I have inquired about some internal information through some connections, and they also plan to take care of all import and export trades like the firm used to do. .”

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

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

Another gentleman knocked on the tea table with his hand, he picked up the kettle and poured himself a glass of water, and took a big sip in a very unmannered manner, "Have you contacted Lynch, I heard that we have been assigned to his subordinates , why should he be on an equal footing with those consortiums?"

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

At this moment when the people behind asked, he immediately nodded and replied, "I have already sent someone to send a message. No matter what, I will find a way to meet him."

"As for why he can sit on an equal footing with the big consortia, it may be because he represents the interests of the federal president."

His words stunned the others, "Do you have any new news?"

"There's nothing new, it's just a guess." Mr. Simon stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, walked back to the sofa and sat down again. He poured himself water and said, "Lynch and Truman have a very good personal relationship. Well, also have a good relationship with the president."

"It's hard not to let people imagine whether there will be some interests between them. You know, if there is no president or Truman to support Lynch behind him, those big consortiums will not see him in their eyes."

Another asked, "You mean the chances are slim. After all, what we want to fight for is not Lynch's share, but the president's or Truman's share?"

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

He put down his glass and said, "But whether my guess is right or not, this is our last chance. I will try my best to fight for it, but we must also be prepared."

He pondered for a moment, "Once the situation is not right, we will evacuate Nagalil."

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

After a few seconds, someone broke the uneasy atmosphere, "Improbable, we are not these natives, if they do anything to us, the only one who will lose face in the end is the Federation!"

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

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

"Although being an apartment in China lacks some exciting life, it is better than being stable, and I am a little homesick..." He looked up at a photo in the cabinet directly in front of him, on which was his wife, he child.

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

That's his family!
That is his child!
(End of this chapter)