Chapter 17: The First Customer Is Already This Intense; Won't the Rest Take Off?

Ma Ma Zhaodi wasn't lying; everyone knows how pre-exam review works—cramming a whole semester's knowledge in the few days before the test, forgetting it all immediately after. Although this guidebook was thick and no one had highlighted key points, he could still memorize most of it.

To be safe, he spent one dollar of asset points in the car to record the content on the system's notepad, so he could look it up whenever needed.

The supervisor casually asked him a few questions, and upon confirming he wasn't lying, directly led him into the changing room, took out a waiter's suit that fit his size, and told him to change into it.

To be honest, this was Ma Ma Zhaodi's first time wearing a suit.

"Emm, not bad, not bad."

The supervisor sized up Ma Ma Zhaodi, who stood tall and proportionate in the crisp suit, with an upright face and handsome features; overall, there was no problem—except for the lingering chill and cunning in his brows, along with a hint of fierce wildness.

"But you're working the day shift, not the night crowd; this face still looks a bit too fierce."

Hearing this, Ma Ma Zhaodi relaxed the corners of his mouth and tried to smile, instantly making the aura around him even more subtle, like a beast bound within a suit sneering at its prey. If he changed into a suitable Italian-style suit, most people would likely mistake him for a high-ranking underworld boss.

". Have you considered joining some gang? I think your face is very suited for that line of work."

While complaining, the supervisor turned and left, returning a moment later holding a pair of gold-rimmed plano glasses.

"Put them on, but you'd better not drop them on a customer or into their food while working."

Ma Ma Zhaodi took the glasses and put them on; the chill and wildness on his face were immediately diluted by a touch of scholarly refinement brought by the spectacles.

"Now you look much better."

The supervisor then led him through several simulations of greeting guests, taking orders, serving dishes, and clearing tables. Ma Ma Zhaodi's demeanor and movements basically met the standards, with few lapses in etiquette details, and all questions he needed to answer were responded to accurately. Or rather, most of his mistakes were glossed over by his face and calm aura.

"Good, good, you learn very fast; in that case, you can start your official shift at ten o'clock."

Watching the supervisor disappear while yawning, Ma Ma Zhaodi estimated he was going back to catch up on sleep; last night's night shift must have been quite busy, otherwise he wouldn't have stayed awake until now.

Having already eaten breakfast and not wanting to eat again, he simply took off his glasses, went to a newsstand on the street, and bought a newspaper, wanting to see if anything major had happened in Gotham.

"Two cases of robbery and shooting, tsk, Gotham really has no shortage of scumbags; a group of bikers got retaliated against and crushed by a road-rage driver in a dump truck—unlucky, but I can't sympathize; several pharmaceutical company personnel mysteriously frozen into ice sculptures, clearly the work of Mr. Freeze; several members of the Maroni gang had every bone in their bodies broken and were sent to the hospital, with evidence of their crimes handed over to the Gotham Police Department; that's what happens when you live by the sword..."

Wait? Every bone in their bodies broken?

Ma Ma Zhaodi alertly flipped back to that page and carefully examined the miserable state of those gang members.

Limb bones shattered, ribs fractured, and they were suspected to be the perpetrators of the two robbery and shooting cases.

Well done, he thought silently; although a psychopath, at least he's a psychopath doing good deeds.

It's just that the Maroni family is a semi-vassal of the Falcone family, and the Falcone family is currently Gotham's number one criminal syndicate. No wonder the supervisor stayed up all night; presumably, many important figures came here for meetings yesterday.

But what does any of this have to do with me, an ordinary restaurant waiter?

He shrugged and continued flipping through the newspaper. The rest was nothing more than a dozen robber whose jaws were smashed sending them to the hospital, and a few drug dealers tied up and dumped at the entrance of the Gotham Police Department. Setting aside some major impactful events that wouldn't make the papers...

Yesterday in Gotham could be considered a peaceful day.

"Hmm?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi had just closed the newspaper when he suddenly noticed several colleagues, also changed into suits, standing behind him, staring at the news above, with a hint of schadenfreude in their brows.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Santos, Claude Santos."

"Lloyd Rick."

"I am Brigitte Castro."

"Hello, hello, I'm Ma Ma Zhaodi—would you like to see the newspaper?"

"Thank you."

Santos took the newspaper and began reading carefully; Ma Ma Zhaodi stood up and realized that what he and his colleagues were looking at was precisely the news about the Maroni gang members being sent to the police station, suddenly gaining a slight understanding.

It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Derek once said that the person behind Donald is very powerful, plus what Donald himself did while making that phone call; how could it possibly have nothing to do with the local largest underworld family, the Falcones?

But he truly hadn't expected that even the waiters in the restaurant were people of the family; this level of connection was far deeper than he had imagined.

"People of the Maroni family, heh."

Santos spoke first, his tone mocking.

Rick shook his head: "So shameful, even getting thrown into the Gotham Police Department."

Castro asked: "Are we just going to watch? What about the Godfather's dignity?"

"The Maroni's dignity doesn't extend to the Godfather; besides, one always has a chance of winning when dueling with lions, tigers, or men using guns, but what about dueling with vengeful spirits, nightmares, or fear?"

Santos closed the newspaper and shook his head: "It has nothing to do with us; we are just tiny waiters, after all. Today's newspaper is quite entertaining."

He stood up, smiling as he teased: "Though Ma Ma Zhaodi, you look so much like an underworld boss; you wouldn't happen to be from the Falcone family, would you?"

"No, no, I haven't joined any gang; I just look a bit fierce." Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately waved his hands, casually taking out his gold-rimmed glasses and putting them on: "See, much better like this."

The expressions of the three changed subtly at once, and Santos's smile became even brighter: "Haha, just a joke, don't mind it."

Rick and Castro, however, secretly examined Ma Ma Zhaodi's exposed wrists and neck, discovering indeed that he lacked their family's tattoo.

Why didn't Donald let the supervisor say something in advance? They almost mistook him for one of their own.

What these few didn't know was that yesterday's family situation was even more urgent than the newspaper reported; the supervisor and Donald had stayed up all night, already forgetting this small matter completely.

"It's almost time for work; the head chef has also arrived, shall we go prepare together?"

"Sure, I'm new here, so I'll learn from you."

They didn't wait long before a man dressed in a suit and leather shoes walked into the restaurant.

Ma Ma Zhaodi didn't move, wanting to see how the veteran employees would act, but the three of them, along with other colleagues, stiffened for an instant before directly pushing him forward.

"?"

"Good day, do you have a reservation?"

"One person."

"And your name is?"

"Dent, Harvey Dent."

(End of Chapter)