Chapter 13: End of Chapter

Ma Ma Zhaodi raised his head; a small, bright, and clean restaurant stood right in the middle of the street. Seeing that the shop didn't seem very large, he felt a slight sigh of relief in his heart.

In Gotham, the bigger the operation, the more shady things are. If the target is smaller, the chance of getting into trouble is smaller.

"Let me remind you, Donald is not a simple person. The less you speak, the less likely you are to anger him."

"Is he that powerful?"

"At the very least, the people behind him must be very powerful."

After a brief exchange, Ma Ma Zhaodi's heart began to murmur again. He thought of the small shops he occasionally passed by when going to and from school as a child.

The shelves on the racks weren't restocked even once a month; the clerks always held a mobile phone, their service attitude was perfunctory beyond compare, and there were basically no customers in the store. Sometimes, they didn't even turn on the lights. But strangely, it just kept going, year after year. Until Ma Ma Zhaodi graduated, it was still standing right there, and no one knew why it hadn't gone bankrupt yet.

If only this restaurant could be as relaxed as those small shops.

However, as soon as they walked in, Ma Ma Zhaodi's heart quickly sank.

Passing through the main door, the two turned into a gray corridor after just a few steps. They met a beautiful blonde receptionist. She seemed to have received Donald's instructions; she smiled, nodded to welcome the two, and guided them through the corridor into the interior of the restaurant.

Ma Ma Zhaodi didn't understand restaurant decor, but the artistic wallpaper on the corridor walls had already given him a slight sense of ominous foreboding.

Entering the main hall, what met their eyes were rows of beautiful and magnificent wine cabinets, warm and soft dim lighting, simple and elegant wall patterns, vibrant and lively green plants, and dining guests dressed in high-end formal wear with dignified conduct.

"Classy, truly damn classy." He couldn't help but quietly mutter a curse: "This is the small restaurant you talked about? If this kind of restaurant isn't in the Diamond District, what is it doing here?"

"Auradon isn't without rich people. This place was created specifically for the needs of certain big shots—don't worry about so much, just tell me, do you want to make money or not?"

"."

At this moment, the female receptionist who had led the way turned her head and said to the two: "Mr. Donald is waiting for both of you. Please go directly to the office upstairs to see him."

It seemed that no matter what Ma Ma Zhaodi's answer was, at this moment, he could only follow the principle of "since we're already here" and go meet this boss Donald.

Drake gave him a "everything is fine" look, then led Ma Ma Zhaodi toward the stairs nearby.

Reaching the end of the stairs, burly men in black clothes were already standing on both sides of the corridor, making way. It was obvious that if the ones coming up were unwelcome guests, their attitude right now wouldn't be so friendly.

At this moment, Ma Ma Zhaodi only felt his scalp go numb. This time, the judgment was too damn rash. How could this restaurant be an inconspicuous small shop? This was damn right a backdrop for a super eye-catching major event.

If it weren't because the gun barrel of this Donald right now was much closer than a major event, he would have already turned around and rushed out of this restaurant.

It took him several seconds to pull his scattered thoughts back, and then he followed Drake into Donald's office.

A middle-aged man with a sturdy build and a steady expression, wearing a high-end suit, sat in a chair. Even from a distance, seeing Drake, a faint smile appeared on his face, and he stood up and walked to the front of the two.

"Drake, it's been a few months. Your complexion looks much better."

Drake had actually suffered from months of anxiety and torment, but Donald indeed didn't say anything wrong, because since last night, the thousand-pound burden on his shoulders had finally been swept away.

Although the heavy dark circles under his eyes and his gaunt face couldn't improve overnight, his spirit was completely renewed, and compared to before, the whole person could be said to have been reborn.

"Yes, I was lucky. My wife's illness is finally cured—in a while, I will take her and leave this city, returning to my hometown."

Whether it was Ma Ma Zhaodi's illusion or not, he always felt that after hearing Drake's words, a hint of imperceptible envy and melancholy appeared in Donald's eyes.

"Being able to spend the rest of one's life with one's beloved is a rare happiness even in Metropolis. Congratulations, Drake."

"What is there to envy? Just a poor beggar. For a rich man like you, you can go wherever you want; the happiness you possess is something I can't even imagine."

"Me?" Donald lowered his head and smiled: "My father was a Gothamite, so I am a Gothamite too... I will stay here. I'm not going anywhere."

Seeing the atmosphere seem to become a bit strange, Drake turned his hand and pushed Ma Ma Zhaodi out: "This is my new good friend who just arrived in Gotham. Just as I said on the phone, he is new here, doesn't understand this city much, and the things he originally learned are useless, so he asked me about this."

Donald raised his head again. In a moment, he had returned to his original appearance as a native Gothamite. His eyes became indifferent, and there was no expression on his face. He carefully sized up the Ma Ma Zhaodi in front of him from head to toe. After a moment, he spoke.

"What is your education?"

"University graduate, but in China."

"?"

Let alone Donald, even Drake beside him couldn't help but look at Ma Ma Zhaodi for the first time. Ma Ma Zhaodi's self-introduction was too incompetent, causing him to originally think Ma Ma Zhaodi just had ordinary high school education.

Seeing the two's looks, Ma Ma Zhaodi's face turned slightly red.

"Don't look at me. The school is the school, I am me. The school's capability doesn't mean I am capable too."

Makes sense.

"What can you do?"

"Originally, I made a living writing 'Little Uncle' back home, but here in Gotham, this trick is useless."

"?"

Drake couldn't help but glance sideways again. You damn well say you make a living by writing, and I naively didn't ask further, thinking it was just ordinary articles and novels. Turns out you kid were waiting for me here?

What other tricks do you have that I don't know about?

"."

"?"

This time it was Ma Ma Zhaodi and Drake's turn to look at Donald. No, wake up! That kid is a writer of xx! How can you praise that?

"Can you use a gun or a knife?"

"No, but I have them."

As Ma Ma Zhaodi spoke, he reached out to pull the gun from his waist, but the next second he suddenly realized this action seemed very dangerous, so he put his hand back.

"Not bad, not stupid."

Donald nodded: "How did you get here today?"

"By bus."

"Courage is also up to standard, luck isn't bad—but you must know how to use a gun, otherwise you won't live long in Gotham."

Watching Donald, with a cold face, spout out one positive evaluation after another, Ma Ma Zhaodi, who originally wanted to give up and let things take their course, couldn't hold it together anymore.

Damn it, not a single one of those who do well in Gotham acts like a normal person.

(End of Chapter)