Chapter 18
Lin Weilun admitted that he was stunned by the number for a few seconds.
An annual salary of 500 pounds translates to a weekly salary of nearly 11 pounds, more than four times what the clinic earns!
And it also gave him maximum freedom.
How can this be called an employer? This person is simply an expert in throwing money around, a great philanthropist.
At this moment, Lin Weilun suddenly realized that there seemed to be nothing wrong with being a veterinarian.
"Thank you for your generosity, sir," he said, picking up his glass and rising graciously. "May God bless you with good health and prosperity—may I start work tomorrow?"
Philip laughed heartily and also picked up his glass. "Of course, but today is even better. You know, I want you to start working as soon as possible. My warehouse is already full of game."
"I'm so sorry," Lin Weilun bowed his head slightly. "I have to go back to the clinic and discuss it with Mr. Ferry, so I can't start until tomorrow."
"Oh?" Philip said with amusement, raising one eyebrow. "I thought you wouldn't tell Ferry about that—that's five hundred pounds."
"Without the reputation of Ferry's Clinic, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to get here." Lin Weilun shook his goblet. "People should always learn to be grateful, even if many people don't understand."
"You truly open my eyes," the Count's eyes lit up even brighter. "Choosing you is the best decision I've ever made. My butler will have you sign an employment agreement in a moment. If everything is confirmed to be okay, we'll meet here again tomorrow, when you'll receive your first month's salary in advance."
All in all, it was a pleasant lunch. Lin Weilun finished three plates of swan toast by himself and ate a lot of salad, but he didn't touch the main course much.
The dessert was a sweet cream jelly, the only dish he found good. It had a soft, soapy texture, and when he gritted his teeth, a milky liquid spread across his tongue, like sucking on plump, elastic clouds.
After lunch, the housekeeper brought the employment agreement, which stipulated that Lingert would come to the manor every three days to see all the animals on the manor.
If the Earl had any needs, he would notify him in advance. Lingert had to put him first in line and, unless there were special circumstances, he had to arrive within three hours.
Of course, high salaries also mean responsibilities.
If Lingert made a mistake at work, he would be fined several times the amount. If he was unable to pay, the Ferry Clinic would compensate him.
"You can take this agreement back to Mr. Ferry and have him look at it," the butler said, "or you can sign it now."
"I'll discuss this with Mr. Ferry," Lin Weilun said, picking up the agreement. "Please say goodbye to the Earl for me."
When we returned, the wind carried the damp aroma of pork, a scent more delicious than any other kind of meat.
As for the situation that the Earl was worried about - a mistake that would result in him being burdened with a huge fine - that was absolutely impossible to happen.
Lin Weilun has absolute confidence.
It was lunchtime when they returned to the clinic. Alma had just finished enjoying a plate of fried sausages and baked potatoes. She quickly stood up when she saw the person coming back.
"Why are you back so late? Ferry was so worried. He said he would call the manor if he didn't see you after dinner. Come and sit over here. I just made some tea."
The wife helped to pull out a chair and went to the kitchen to get clean cups and milk.
Lin Weilun said "thank you" and smiled a lot more. "Something delayed me, ma'am. Where is Mr. Ferry?"
Alma looked up at the stairs, pointed upwards, and whispered, "The postman just brought a letter. He only glanced at it and went upstairs. It's from London."
However, as soon as the last syllable fell, another voice came from above.
"Someone is finally willing to come back?" The old man's gray hair was combed neatly with hair oil, and his blue eyes seemed to hide a bow and arrow. "I thought you would immerse yourself in the Earl's splendor and never come back."
If Mrs. Alma hadn't told the truth in advance, the old man's appearance would have been quite intimidating.
But who knows actually...
Lin Weilun placed the yellow paper with the angel emblem on it on the table. "That's why I came back late. You can take a look."
"What is it?" The old man looked at him doubtfully before he sat down and picked it up. Then he jumped up from the chair.
“How could this happen?!”
"What?" Alma came over with some concern. "Is there something wrong with the count? He... Oh my God!"
The wife let out a strange cry like a mountain beast, "500 pounds!"
You have to know that the annual income of Ferry's clinic is only about 2,000-3,000 pounds! But this is the result of Ferry's hard work for more than 20 years!
How long has this kid been in the industry? A month? Two months?
Ferry was also shocked and speechless. Others didn't know, but he knew very well that the salary of the veterinarian before the count was not that high.
The man was a practicing veterinarian from Manchester. He lived and ate at the manor. His only job was to look after the horses and the Earl's two dogs. His annual salary was only 450 pounds.
The figure given by the Earl was an exorbitant price for a junior veterinarian who had just graduated.
"So I want to discuss with you," Lin Weilun folded his hands, "to see how much is appropriate for me to take."
He said "I take it" instead of "we split it", which means that he put himself on the side that earns a smaller portion of the profit, while the clinic is the main body that gets the larger portion.
The kind child is making concessions.
Ferry was silent for a long time.
He remembered the letter he had just received, which was a notice from his son.
To be precise, it was an ultimatum.
To my respected father:
The wedding is on September 20th. Before then, I hope to hear that you've sold that damn veterinary clinic.
After all, Susannah was about to change her last name to "Ferry", and I didn't want her to know that our "Mr. Ferry" ran a clinic where he had to stick his hands up cows' butts all the time. It would make both of us the laughing stock of London.
I think you have worked hard for me until today and sent me to Oxford, not just for me to live with you in that small town where even God can't see you, right?
I hope you can give me a chance - an opportunity to introduce you with pride. Thank you very much, dear father.
By the way, the faster this can happen, the happier my mother and I will be.
It's not a good idea for Mum to live alone in London. You should have seen the desolate look on her face as she sits by the window every day watching the sunset.
That's probably not what you wanted, is it?
I will prepare the ticket for you and send it with the next letter.
We look forward to your arrival with good news.
Your best son, Bowen Ferry]
Old Ferry rubbed his brow and felt a deep sense of fatigue rising from the bottom of his heart.
Especially after understanding the meaning of Lingert's words, this feeling of exhaustion penetrated deep into his bones.
How can the gap between people be so big?
"You can keep this reward for yourself," the old man suddenly said, startlingly. "You earned it for yourself, so you don't need to share it with anyone. Just remember to replenish the Earl's supplies when he needs medicine or equipment."
"Oh..." Alma wiped her eyes, "Ferry..."
Lin Weilun was really stunned this time, "No, sir, I think..."
"Of course," Old Ferry gave a sly smile, "The title of Earl cannot be wasted. You are a veterinarian who walked out of my clinic, and I must keep this honor in the clinic."
"How about a brass sign?" Alma thought seriously. "Just hang it under the words 'Ferry Clinic'. Or maybe make it bigger?"
"Perfect!" Ferry snapped his fingers, raised his hand, crumpled the letter and threw it into the trash can. "Before the sign is made, we can put up the small blackboard outside. Alma, your handwriting is beautiful, and it doesn't matter if you use bold words. Don't give the Count time to regret it. And tonight-"
When the old man turned back, his eyes were already sparkling. "If you really want to thank me, put all your feelings into the dishes. God knows how much I am looking forward to it."
-
In order to have the anticipated dinner, Lin Weilun was allowed to leave work one hour early.
He returned to his new house and retrieved the weakened duck from the cellar, which he had found behind the department store, from a hunter who was selling it on the street.
"I've been starving it for six days!" the hunter said. "Its stomach is absolutely clean, without any strange smell."
Lin Weilun touched the duck's head, picked up the flippers and took a look. After confirming that there was nothing wrong, he paid the money readily.
Now, he carried the duck necks to the back of the house and put them into a deep bucket.
Plucking duck feathers must be done in a bucket that is deep enough, otherwise the feathers will fly all over the ground.
The duck went to see God with almost no resistance, and Lin Weilun was very familiar with bleeding.
Then the internal organs are removed, washed and cut into pieces.
The sound of "ding-dong-dong" came from the kitchen, like a symphony played by a solitary person.
But he enjoyed it.
Mrs. Alma has sponsored fresh oranges, lemons, and cucumbers, and these little guys will play a big role tonight.
Braised duck with orange sauce will be the first main course at Lin Weilun's new home.
This dish originated in Nantes, France. It carries the green fragrance of the pleasant climate and can effectively cleanse the stomach that was ravaged by the chef at the Count's estate today.
He sautéed the duck giblets and onions in butter, added dry gin, and brought it to a boil with round carrots, salt, pepper, and bay leaves, then reduced the heat to a simmer.
This is the most important sauce for stewing duck meat and it should be cooked for at least 40 minutes.
After the sauce was ready, Lin Weilun started to fry the duck.
Under the effect of high temperature, the duck skin quickly turns into a beautiful golden color. Then pour in the sauce, add a few leaves of fresh sorrel thyme, and simmer slowly over low heat.
During the meal, the duck skin continued to ooze out shiny oil, and the golden oil melted into the soup, as if a hungry Latin dancer had finally found his other half after traveling through mountains and rivers, and burst out with a fragrance richer than the raging fire of dry tea.
“What a good girl,” Lin Weilun praised the duck’s efforts, constantly scooping up the pungent sauce with a spoon and pouring it back onto the duck.
This is a kind of repayment and also a kind of nourishment, from the inside out, so that the texture of the duck meat is all stewed into a winding golden brown.
Not to mention the rich aroma that continues to evaporate under the stimulation of the most suitable temperature.
When the time was almost right, he covered the pot, turned around and picked up the orange.
In French cuisine, sauces often play a crucial role. Chefs often pair each main course with a variety of sauces, which can feel like a showy performance, but it's also the finishing touch.
Lin Weilun is no exception. His process of preparing oranges is more complicated than roasting duck.
Cut the orange peel into strips and boil it in a pot of cold water. Then marinate it with Curacao liquor.
When the flavor of the orange peel is fully absorbed into the wine, mix the crushed red plum jelly, orange slices and starch, and finally add a little duck soup from the pot and boil it into a thick sauce.
Stir constantly during the process, taste and adjust the seasoning ratio.
The resulting sauce will be so rich in taste that it will cause ripples and numbness on the tip of your tongue.
"It smells so good..." Mrs. Alma poked her head in excitedly from the window. "Lingert, you really should come out and see. The whole street is filled with the aroma of your cooking! It only took me a few minutes to walk here, and I've already had thirteen or fourteen people asking me where the smell comes from!"
"Then let them smell it," Lin Weilun walked over to open the door, met the eyes of the two people outside, and raised the corners of his mouth. "After all, everything tonight is just prepared for you two. Is it okay if there's no one in the clinic?"
"That's all right," said old Ferry, taking off his hat and looking around. "I've posted your address and phone number on the door, right below the new sign. If people notice the Count's name, they'll definitely notice the new veterinarian's contact information. Any anxious customers will come find us."
The housekeeper brought some plain pound bread that she had baked herself, and the old man brought a few bottles of dark beer.
Candlesticks were put to good use, and vases held hydrangeas and zinnias picked from the street. A cool breeze blew in from the window, drifting across the polka-dot tablecloth, swirling around the walnut dining chairs, and finally resting on the freshly baked apple quiche.
The swirling hot air was like a steaming smiling face, floating among the three people who were talking and laughing.
"Maple syrup or honey?" Lin Weilun asked.
They both chose honey.
Alma held her knife and fork. "God, I can't wait."
"Oh my God! How could this happen!"
At the same time, passers-by walking through the alley were shocked by the newly erected small blackboard outside Ferry's clinic with just a casual glance.
"This is the clinic where Count Philippe's certified partner veterinarian, Willen Lingert, works?! OMG, is this true?! Is this Count Philippe the same Philippe I know?"
His loud shouting attracted a crowd of onlookers, and people stopped in unison.
"Viren Lingert? I know him, hey guys. He's the one who worked with the Ministry of Agriculture on the screening of sick chickens not long ago! That good-looking young man!"
"I know him, too. He's the young veterinarian that Old Ferry hired. I heard he's quite skilled, but he seems a bit unkind and won't give you a discount."
"So what if it's not a good deal? At least it's reassuring. It's much better than that Andre. Not only does he want money, he's also trying to harm our health. Besides, the Count doesn't care about the amount of money; he cares more about what he gets. This Mr. Lingert... is truly extraordinary!"
Hearing this, everyone nodded.
In Denham, the Earl was more prestigious than the mayor and richer than all the government officials combined, so any news about him would spread quickly throughout the town, like a bird on the horizon.
Andre huddled in a small corner of the Fox and Hounds pub. It was sparsely populated, dimly lit, and far away from the hustle and bustle, making it a perfect place for people who needed to hide.
He just couldn't stop the gossip that was spreading everywhere, especially the gossip that involved his name.
"What's so good about that old, gigolo?" Andre rubbed his face angrily. "Even the Count favors him. Why? Philip wouldn't choose him just based on his looks, right? I've been in this business for over a decade! How can he be worse than a sausage?"
"Because he only knows how to sweet-talk the rich!" Someone else was equally indignant and sat down in Andre's vacant seat. "That Lingert is so hypocritical. He'll do anything for money!"
"Ferdinand?" Andre looked at the familiar face across from him, propped up his shoulders, and sat up with a gloomy look. "Your hatred has spilled into my wine glass, just because he threatened you in your cowshed?"
"He's also cost me hundreds of pounds!" Ferdinand roared, suppressing his anger. "All four of my cows were taken away and killed by the Department of Agriculture! All because of a few worms!"
Andre rolled his eyes. "Tapeworms, man. There are at least tens of thousands of tapeworms living in your barn. The Ministry of Agriculture has no problem with that."
"But I didn't receive any compensation! Not a penny!" Ferdinand became even angrier. "Lingert is just taking revenge on me! If he's as capable as people say, he should help me get compensation from the Ministry of Agriculture! Hey, wait a minute."
His expression suddenly turned strange. "Were you speaking up for him just now? That kid? You're right. He hasn't been in business for long, but he's already been fought over by the Ministry of Agriculture and the Earl. And yet, some people have been here for years, yet they can only hide in a corner and drink the cheapest malt liquor."
"Ferdinand!" Andre stood up suddenly, "Are you looking for a beating?!"
"Breaking a chair costs eight shillings, a table costs twenty," said a passing waiter in a low voice. "A wine glass costs three shillings, and if the floor is broken you have to replace it all, which costs at least fifteen pounds."
Andrei panted heavily and finally sat down angrily, "Get lost! Go back and drink with your cow, stay away from me, you bastard!"
Ferdinand stared at the veterinarian, whose face was red with anger, and smiled maliciously. "Come on, we all have someone we hate just as much, so why bother hurting each other? Brother, we should be united against the outside world. After all, no one except me knows about Lingert's evil deeds. Oh, poor piglet, poor lame Kun."
Andre had initially scoffed at his words, but upon hearing the last sentence, he suddenly raised his eyes. "Wrongdoing? What wrongdoing? What piglet? What on earth are you talking about?"
"The Count needs a professional veterinarian," Ferdinand leaned closer, his voice almost whispering. "If you can knock that guy down, the Count won't ignore you, right? Most importantly, without him, there won't be a veterinarian in our town who's so nosy. You see, I'm tired of him, and so are you. We can definitely work together - 'Overthrow the Velen Alliance', how about that name? I like it. And the alliance is more than just us."
Andrei drank a sip of wine, and after a while he slowly asked, "Who else?"
"Your old friend should be resentful," Ferdinand scratched his chin and grinned, "but I wonder if Stuart has paid off his debt to the chicken factory."
Lundin stood in the tavern's kitchen, rubbing his palms, listening to the waiter bring back the fragments of what he had just heard.
“These two idiots…” The fat chef scoffed at the so-called “Anti-Vellen Alliance”, thinking that those two people’s heads must be full of sausages, otherwise how could they have the courage to harm someone like Mr. Velen?
There was no way the Count would change any other veterinarian, no matter what Mr. Willen did.
The Earl's love for gourmet food was well-known far and wide. As long as Mr. Willen moved his fingers, the Earl would definitely spend a room full of pounds to keep him.
Not to mention the Earl, any upper-class person in England would do the same.
But... Lundin threw the towel into the pool. Now everyone was talking about Lingert's name. The reputation brought by the earl was unparalleled. Although he had failed before, it did not mean that he could not use the earl's power again.
"I just don't know if Mr. Weiren is willing to help...but..."
Lundin's eyes swept over the two stupid mice in the corner. "If I bring this gift to your house, Mr. Viren will probably be happy, right?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
