The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 618 Ch.617 New Adventure

Perhaps this unsealed secret organ has completed its historical mission, or it may be a coincidence, or it may be some other reason.

A few days after the crystal test tube was separated from the cane, old Bellos's physical condition took a sharp turn for the worse.

The extra blood tumor in his stomach made him wail all night. Only two-tenths of the feces in the feces bucket were feces, and the rest were lumpy and thin liquid like incompletely melted cocoa powder.

Later, Theresa also found dark brown blood in the toilet.

Randolph urgently hired several of the best doctors in Brighton to treat his father.

But the results were mostly the same: if the abdomen was not opened at risk, the worsening condition could not be delayed - and the son of the older doctor had told Randolph privately.

He was told to do what a son should do and not let obsession cause greater pain.

Although the medical community has been able to produce a high-concentration anesthetic drink that can make people feel like they have "slept" and lost their arms or toes, the difficulty of opening the abdomen is far different from cutting fingers.

The young doctor said that the difficulty is not in opening it, but in the half month after suturing it.

'Your father will have a high fever, it will rot, and the wound will be more smelly than the abalone that has been stored for years. He will be in more pain than now, rolling and struggling on the bed, and you almost have to tie up his hands, feet and neck to take a nap...'

He is more daring than his father, and he is not afraid of taking responsibility and being angered by Taylor.

As a doctor of the new era, he believes that it is necessary to make it clear to Taylor and his equally painful son.

'Mr. Snow told me that the difference between doctors and angels is that we are not omnipotent and should never conceal the real disaster. '

Randolph was surprised that he studied under Edward Snow, the 'Ice Doctor'.

'So that's it, your sister has also been treated by your mentor. Mr. Taylor, if you listen to my advice... please don't expect miracles. ’

The young doctor came in a hurry, but left later than other doctors.

He even took a portion of old Bellos’ feces without being disgusted, and solemnly warned the servants headed by Theresa to deal with the excrement and keep the room clean.

‘I am just one of the many young doctors taught by Mr. Snow, Mr. Taylor, I call him my mentor, which is a respect for Mr. Snow... I am afraid he can't remember that there is a student like me who is not outstanding and not talented enough. ’

This is not a question of outstanding or not.

Edward Snow and his students' attitude towards patients has surpassed most doctors - or executioners - that Randolph has seen.

The butchers who are only interested in "cutting", "saws" and "anesthesia".

The young doctor stayed in the old house. His father seemed a little unhappy, but he didn't dare to show it. Even though Taylor was generous, the old doctor observed for two whole days. After finding that he didn't take his anger out on him and his son, he slowly said goodbye to his son, picked up the medicine box, and rushed to the address of the next patient.

Roland and Beatrice would go to Bellos's bedroom to chat with him every day when he was better.

To be precise, pretending to be his colleague.

Occasionally, Bellos would call Beatrice "Betty" when he was in a trance. Although he couldn't remember who Betty was when he asked again the next second, he could only squeeze his stiff and pale face and helplessly seek answers from the man beside the bed...

Later, Roland tried to mention Randolph and Beatrice repeatedly in his words, and mentioned Jocelyn Taylor.

His memory, like the decadent color of his whole body, could never go back to the past.

'But why are you in Porto Porto? ' Roland asked this one time.

The old man on the bed was hesitant to speak.

He almost wanted to remember, almost wanted to tell the reason, to tell why he often greeted the tide at night, waiting for a shadow that was vaguer than his memory...

But he still failed.

He was like a child abandoned by his parents and wandering around the fish stall, his whole face full of surprise and fear of the unknown.

When he asked, "Who am I?" and Roland answered, "Bellos Taylor, a good husband and a good businessman," he could see the faint doubt in his eyes - he didn't believe Roland's words, but he didn't dare to refute it openly. He just turned his dry eyes and tried to find traces of his identity in the room...

Teresa cried for several days in a row, her eyes swollen like an old peach pit.

Whenever Bellos wailed on the hospital bed, calling Jocelyn or Theresa, she would turn around silently and sob softly against the wall.

But soon, Bellos stopped calling them.

His wandering soul only whispered an extremely popular and extremely heavy name through his flesh and blood.

‘Mom…’

Roland gently stroked the silver hair that fell to his ears, and seemed to see Daniel in his childhood, the dead children, and himself in countless rainy nights.

Everyone would shout like this when they were in extreme pain, although their names were different.

‘Mom…’

Randolph lowered his eyes and tried to hold him in his arms.

This man who was once strong and could lift Theresa with one hand and walk briskly in her scolding was now as thin as a 100-year-old baby.

He curled up in his son's arms, holding his collar tightly, and mucus flowed from the corners of his mouth to wet his front.

‘Mom…’

Death may not be so scary.

But disease and aging are.

After struggling in pain for half a week, a miracle happened.

Bellos Taylor was more certain than anyone.

That was his own body, his own.

He felt the pain in his abdomen magically disappear, his flesh and blood became firm again, and the joints of his bones no longer creaked and ached.

He could feel the lazy light temperature of the afternoon, and the strong heartbeat pumped warm blood throughout his body.

The silver hair that symbolized old age faded again and again, and the roots grew a dazzling golden color like sunlight. His wrinkles melted in the baking, and the skin on his face became smooth, and was pulled by an invisible hand on the back of his head a few times, tightening his face.

New teeth emerged from his gums, and his muscles swelled again, stretching his empty sleeves.

The knees and side waist that had troubled him for many years and hurt every rain and snow also returned to decades ago - the time when he only used his thighs and waist to control the fierce horse.

Bellos Taylor laughed, excited like a boy who got a new sword, covering the blazing glow in front of his eyes with one hand, and hammering back and forth with the other hand.

The servants beside him seemed to have been prepared. When their master finished his afternoon nap, they quickly served him tea and towels for rinsing his mouth, a cigar with the smell of sour plums, and a well-carved silver tin lighter.

The sea breeze blew straight over.

Bellos Taylor pushed the servant away rudely, excitedly turned over from the recliner and landed on the ground, enjoying his body that had regained its youth.

He jumped twice and brushed his messy blond hair behind his head.

A song came with the sea breeze, swaying like waves.

‘The waves that sweep up the longing send us on a long journey…’

That was the song of the sailors.

Bellos turned around, took the cigar and lit it, with his hands on his waist, looking at the salty dogs in front of him, flirting with the prostitutes, talking dirty, spitting everywhere, cursing someone, and boarding the boat one by one.

He took a deep breath.

In the crowd that separated, the woman who would smile at you no matter you scolded her or kissed her was quietly looking at the man bathed in golden light.

She was still wearing the fashionable long skirt, and her appearance was also the most pleasing to a person.

Bellos was stunned.

He could hardly believe who he saw, and even pushed away the person blocking his way, rushing through the narrow road that sparkled like a boy chasing a sword.

She was still so young.

Bellos himself was the same.

The two young people stood and looked at each other like lighthouses separated by two worlds, and soon lost their due reserve.

Porto Porto does not need reserve.

‘Who are you waiting for, sir? ’ The girl with red cheeks asked.

‘Waiting for a woman who is always late. ’ Bellos hugged her and smiled brightly.

A quiet afternoon in Porto Porto.

A deck chair in the garden.

In the long humming of Roland Collins, old Bellos started a new adventure.

He never had to wake up.