Chapter 15
"Get out of here, Kun!" Ferdinand roared, shaking his fist. "Get out of here before I break your other leg!"
"Don't be like this, I'm here to share good news with you." Handing over the fried broad beans, Kun limped and sat down next to the burly man.
Ferdinand opened his mouth and closed it again, his depressed mood replaced by a faint hope.
"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "Did the government increase my compensation? How much can I get? 10 pounds? 12 pounds?"
"Oh, of course not that," Quin patted his good brother's shoulder and laughed, "Mr. Lundin, the chef of the Fox and Hound Inn, just now came to my house and wanted to buy all my piglets! It's more than a shilling per pound! But there is a question..."
Ferdinand: …
"Kun!" He flew into a rage, grabbing the man's collar and pulling him up. "I'm going to smash your head in! I promise!"
"Hey! Buddy! Calm down!" Kun said hurriedly. "Just listen to me first! I came to you because I can't figure it out!"
Ferdinand stared at him for several seconds before angrily letting him go. "You're fucking retarded, I know it. Tell me, what's the problem?"
Kun honestly told the story, "I really don't understand. How could Lundin eat a piglet that was clearly dead? Maybe he went to the wrong person."
Ferdinand's eyes became even more sinister after hearing the name of hatred. "You stupid idiot! It can only be that black-hearted veterinarian who ate your piglets! No, not only did he eat them himself, he also treated others to a feast! You've been ripped off! Idiot!"
Kun stared at his friend in a daze, and took a long time to react. "Oh my God... This is really..."
"Listen to me," Ferdinand's eyes rolled, suddenly becoming friendly. "You have to go and ask him for compensation, Quin. Go to his clinic, in front of all the customers, and demand compensation loudly and angrily from him. Stomp his reputation hard into the ground! Make all the customers worry about whether their animals will be eaten. That will get him out of Denham completely!"
"What? No, no."
But to Ferdinand's surprise, Kun kept shaking his head and rubbing his hands excitedly. "What are you talking about, Ferdinand? My piglet has no chance of survival. If Lingert ate it, it doesn't matter. Rather, I should thank him. Brother, I sold it for 40 pounds! It only needs to be raised for more than a month! Lingert is simply an angel sent by God!"
At this point, Kun suddenly jumped up, thinking of something. "Hey! That's right! You're right. If he wants to eat it, I should send my lamb over too! And pick a sick one! Maybe he'll like it!"
The lame farmer was filled with longing, "If he can eat the lambs, maybe my sheep will be included in the purchase list too!"
After saying that, Kun limped away quickly.
Only Ferdinand was left in a daze, his face turning greener and greener.
"Crazy...Fucking crazy! Kun, you'll regret it if you get close to him again!"
-
As August approaches, summer in England is finally coming to an end.
Dark clouds, wind and rain began to appear more frequently, and long-sleeved shirts and suit jackets finally no longer became a constraint.
This makes house viewing a wonderful and exciting experience.
Lin Weilun spent his lunch breaks for a week looking for houses for rent around the clinic with a real estate agent.
Finally, we decided on a small detached house.
It was a Victorian-style building with black tiles, white walls, and a sloping roof. It had three floors, a small attic with a pointed corner, and wooden lattice windows.
There's a fireplace inside and soft blankets covering the oak floors.
The kitchen has four gas stoves, and the spacious kitchen counter is clean and bright, with an oven built into it.
A bathtub was installed in the private bathroom, so Lin Weilun no longer needed to use a basin to shower himself.
Moreover, this house has its own small courtyard with a beautifully built fence, with vines and morning glories wrapped around it, like a green musical score.
The original owner moved to America and hasn't been back for a long time.
But the real estate agent, Ulysses, is an extremely responsible man. He always comes here to help with some simple cleaning chores.
This is why the courtyard has not turned into a weed forest.
But these were not the reasons for his choice.
Most importantly, the house was in a very good location. It was at the intersection of three main streets, facing the Fox and Hounds pub, and behind it was the alley leading to Ferry's Clinic.
There is a large flow of people here, and in the early 20th century when the streets were narrow, almost every car had to pass through here.
"Originally, there were a lot of raspberries and strawberries planted in the yard, but they've been abandoned for too long, and I guess they've all been eaten by weeds." Ulysses said, "If you want, you can hire a lady who knows about planting to help you. They're very good at this."
At this point, the real estate agent casually opened the notebook he carried with him. "I happen to know a few of you. If you need anything, you can always contact me. Of course, if there's any damage to the furniture in the house, you can also contact me at any time."
Lin Weilun nodded to show that he understood, and then paid readily.
The monthly rent was £4, four times that of the previous cottage, and he paid for six months directly, a total of £24.
Ulysses was overjoyed, knowing that there were very few people in Denham who were so generous.
He could earn a very generous commission from this business, so he simply gave the original owner an extra two months of rent according to his wishes.
Both parties are very satisfied.
"You must be from out of town," the agent said, his eyes turning into the shape of pounds.
"But for some reason, your face feels very familiar to me. It must be because you are so handsome. You look very similar to the great figures in the portraits. Oh, by the way, do you need to buy furniture or kitchenware? I know a few good places -"
Originally, when Lin Weilun heard the word "furniture", he was not interested.
But he has time for kitchen utensils.
What's the best way to celebrate moving into a new house without buying a nice knife?
It would be better if it was sharper. The current cutter was given to me by Mrs. Alma. It’s very old and not very handy.
The last time I bled, it splattered everywhere.
After understanding the needs of the financial backer, Ulysses became more energetic.
"Please come with me. We can go to the department store in the center of town. There are a lot of good things there, even imported goods."
The two were walking and chatting, and when they passed by a fox and a hound, they were attracted by a burst of shouting at the same time.
The two waiters seemed to be promoting the new signature dishes. On the beautiful glass door was a poster of a cute pig with a few advertising slogans written on it.
"Watching the slaughter of a suckling pig live? The incomparable aroma of roasting? A delicacy even God would salivate over? Oh my God!" Ulysses took several steps back, utterly disgusted. "Has Lundin not given up yet? He's done something so outrageous, and he still hopes to make a comeback? How foolish."
Lin Weilun looked meaningfully into the tavern, which seemed to be undergoing redecoration in preparation for its impending fate.
Although it was a bit immature and clumsy from beginning to end, it is undeniable that Lundin has grasped the core of "stunt PR" in this crisis, and at the same time seized the only opportunity for change.
A shrewd businessman and a flexible speculator.
Lin Weilun could almost imagine where the pigs that were about to be slaughtered for all customers came from.
This is good news, proving that Lundin is not a fool.
Then this 100 pounds will not be the end, on the contrary, it is the real beginning.
He averted his gaze and reminded the agent who was chattering away, expressing his disgust, "Could you please hurry up? Mr. Ulysses, I'm very busy this afternoon."
"Oh, I'm so... so sorry." Ulysses quickly regained his politeness and immediately led his men forward.
Shopping didn't take too long, after all, since he didn't have to measure the remaining amount in his pocket. With his experience, Lin Weilun soon returned to the clinic with a paper bag.
He bought a full set of high-quality knives and a large selection of spices, and the new house had a fantastic cellar, big enough to store anything.
Not only that, Lin Weilun also bought a lot of seeds - he didn't want to waste that garden.
Raspberries and strawberries are great, and adding vegetables like leeks, zucchini, and kale makes them even better.
Oh yes, and we can’t forget the purple grapes, but there is no place to plant an orange tree for them.
All this cost him seven pounds, but he kept it secret from anyone.
But some people still expressed condemnation.
"You've only been working for less than a month." Old Ferry couldn't understand how Lingate could dare to rent a house for 4 pounds a month when his total salary for three weeks was only 7.5 pounds.
No more food or drink? No more clothes?
Look at him, even his shoes are discounted ones bought from a second-hand store. How dare he rent a building?
"If you really don't like that little house," Mrs. Alma suggested worriedly, placing the reservation book on the table. "You could look at apartments. They're better, and the prices aren't too high. You'll have to share the rent, but they'll meet many of your living needs."
"I was working hard while I was in school," Lin Weilun declined the offer of roommate sharing. "I still have some savings. Thank you for your concern, but I can still afford it."
"You're going to get married someday!" Ferry scoffed at the word "savings." "Ten or twenty pounds is nothing!"
How much can an orphan earn by working and studying? And how much can he save?
These young people don’t know how to prepare for a rainy day!
Lin Weilun smiled and did not refute. He just took out a glass pot from the basket he carried with him.
"I just bought some really good rum and strawberry at the department store," he said, taking out three cups. "So I took the time to brew a pot at my new home. I hope you can share the joy with me."
Ferry swallowed the next words and stared at the red liquid swaying in the pot. "What is this?"
"Sangria is a cold red wine, a flavor that originates from Spain," Lin Weilun filled the glasses for the two of them. "I just added a few extra things: lemon slices, apple slices, blueberry and strawberry chops, cooked them with dry red wine and rum, then poured in orange and lemon juice, and flavored it with honey. Just chill it."
In fact, adding some soda water would make the taste even better, but please forgive the scarcity of supplies in 1928.
Ice cubes were added to the glass pot, and cool water vapor dripped down the full pot body.
Accompanied by the floating fruits, the old man and the housekeeper felt their throats were salivating crazily.
This expectation even made him ignore why an orphan had gone to Spain.
Alma took the first sip and shuddered.
What a beautiful taste! The sweetness and acidity are perfectly balanced, the aroma of fruit blending seamlessly into the fermented flavor of the blend. And because it's been cooked, you can even taste a hint of woody notes, making you feel like you're in a historic French vineyard.
And I don't know what chemical reaction happened, but the red wine, which was originally a bit dry, now became unusually smooth. As the wine flowed down, it quickly slid down the throat like something called silk from the ancient East.
Although drinking is not allowed during working hours, a glass of...
Alma closed his eyes again and took another long drink, something not even a priest would refuse.
Old Ferry had already been intoxicated. Blueberry after blueberry was deeply soaked in the wine, and a chemical reaction occurred on the skin, making it softer and plumper. He barely needed to bite it. Simply holding it in his mouth and rolling it around with his tongue, he could feel the juices inside gushing out like waves, washing his throat and esophagus with a delightful moistness.
"Why aren't you a chef?" the old man couldn't help but sigh. "Even the queen would be fascinated by this cup."
"Are you happier now?" the young veterinarian poured himself another glass. "Besides, my new house has a telephone, so I can go to the night clinics too. You don't have to do it alone anymore."
Ferry choked and turned to look at Alma in surprise.
"I didn't say that," the housekeeper said, her eyes gazing with admiration. "He must have known for a long time that you were out on your own at night, just wanting the new kid to get a good night's sleep. What did I say? You hired the best, sir."
“…Alma, please don’t tease me if you still know who your employer is.” The old man snorted, stood up as if to cover up something, picked up some apple slices from the pot and put them into his cup.
At this moment, he accidentally saw a familiar name, "Count Philip?"
"Yes," the housekeeper said, completely unconcerned with the old man's attitude. She had been working at the clinic for thirteen years and was more like a friend to Ferry. "The racing season is coming soon, and the Earl called yesterday and wanted us to do some routine checks on his horses to make sure they wouldn't have any problems on the track."
Ferry was a little puzzled. "Doesn't the Earl have a personal veterinarian?"
"Who knows?" the butler shrugged. "Perhaps they had a quarrel and parted ways. Or perhaps the veterinarian made a mistake. You know, Ferry, rich people are so unpredictable."
"In any case, this is a great opportunity for us. You two will definitely dance together when you see the price the count offers. Sir, please remember to appear at Philippe Manor before ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
Racing season, Lin Weilun only knows a little about it.
In his previous life, when he was studying in London, he was dragged by local friends to watch it several times.
It is an ancient and traditional activity, a pure competition, including □□, and every link makes people's adrenaline rush.
Of course, such events were usually hosted by the upper class—and only by the upper class, and both the horses and the guys were high-maintenance.
As if she could read his inner thoughts, Alma explained, "September of each year is the horse racing season in Yorkshire, with numerous events, large and small. Most of them are hosted by Earl Philip. However, the Earl has always had his own regular veterinarian who lives on his estate. I don't know why he contacted us so suddenly this year. I'll adjust tomorrow's reservation, Willen. It looks like you'll have to work a bit harder tomorrow."
Lin Weilun nodded, "No problem."
Although he has only been here for over a month, his praise rate has always been 100%, and he has even started to have many repeat customers.
As for the Count - please, one must always find his place.
That's like a store's gold trophy, the kind where you can frame your signature and hang it on the door. No boss would give such a good thing to his employees unless the boss has a head full of wet wool.
"Lingert," old Ferry suddenly said at this moment, "Go and get ready. You'll go to the Count's place tomorrow."
Lin Weilun paused suddenly.
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