Chapter 56: Gotham in the Snow

When Ma Ma Zhaodi woke up, he was already outside the hotel.

"Let this matter end here. Next time something happens, you can call Gordon directly—do not take reckless risks again; Gotham itself is dangerous enough."

"Wait a moment, take this."

Ma Ma Zhaodi casually reached into his pocket, pulled out a small bottle, and tossed it lightly into the darkness.

"Special apple juice, heals wounds quickly, use it when you can fight—this is an exclusive secret recipe, don't ask; if you don't want to drink it, you can throw it away."

There was no response, nor was there the sound of the bottle hitting the ground, so Ma Ma Zhaodi said nothing more, turned around, and walked into the hotel lobby.

Batman was always like this; once he finished saying what he needed to say, he would vanish right on the spot.

The next day, the Wayne Charity Foundation announced it would provide free assistance for the reconstruction and repair of the houses burned down by the fire last night; of course, this had nothing to do with Ma Ma Zhaodi, as it was not his house.

The landlord was unwilling to refund the rent to Ma Ma Zhaodi; he promised that after the reconstruction work was completed, he would allow him to continue renting using the remaining balance of that money, but Ma Ma Zhaodi was not willing to live there anymore. That night, when he sprayed everyone everywhere, it was indeed very satisfying, so he hadn't thought much about it at the time—but now he had come to his senses a little; he had sprayed so many people, he definitely could not stay in that area anymore. If someone sought revenge, his peaceful life would basically be over.

There was also a somewhat interesting point: the Wayne Charity Foundation had cut 30% of the funding support for Gotham City's public fire department, and declared that if fire trucks could not arrive at the scene within five to fifteen minutes of receiving a fire alarm, then they would not need so much funding support.

This requirement was not harsh; thanks to the Wayne Group's donation of a large sum of US dollars to infrastructure construction in Gotham City, the conditions of Gotham's subway, urban rail, airport, and roads were still quite good. Everyone could see that this was purely dissatisfaction with Gotham Fire Department's deliberate inaction the night before, and did not count as deliberate harassment.

But what attracted Gotham City's attention most was not these two news items, but a heavy, swirling snowstorm.

That's right, it was the twelfth lunar month, and Gotham City's weather had finally fully entered winter; of course, this subtle phrasing of "twelfth lunar month" could only be understood by Ma Ma Zhaodi himself; everyone else still called it December.

It was also a day without sunshine, but Gotham under the ice and snow looked much cuter than its usual gloomy appearance: houses, streets, and tall snow-covered cedars and bare, withered trees all wrapped in silver; in this white, vast cityscape, children would occasionally run and play—loving to play in the snow the most were them.

The cold, fresh air rushed into Ma Ma Zhaodi's lungs, and the breath he exhaled turned into a faint white mist in the air. Walking on the street, he saw the red Santa Claus occasionally flashing in the shop windows, the rows of pale yellow decorative lights gradually hanging on the streets, and the few people on the street wearing Santa hats, feeling it was especially fresh; in Ma Ma Zhaodi's past in Gotham, it was not common to see so many people with smiles on their faces.

Although Christmas was still far away, people had already begun to look forward to this day; in terms of atmosphere, it had a bit of the flavor of the New Year: decorated with lights and banners, every family celebrating; of course, in recent years the atmosphere had faded a bit, with fewer holidays and less time for sweeping dust and worshipping the stove god, buying New Year goods was simplified, relatives were not very available to visit, and thorough cleaning took too much time and energy.

Ma Ma Zhaodi silently thought, lost in thought; although it was almost Christmas, there were a thousand Hamlets in ten thousand eyes, and he found it hard to control his memories and associations.

"Little children, little children, do not be greedy; after the Laba Festival comes the New Year;

Laba porridge, drink it for a few days, lily-lily-lily on the twenty-third;

On the twenty-third, the sugar melon is sticky; on the twenty-fourth, sweep the house;

On the twenty-fifth, make tofu; on the twenty-sixth, go buy meat;

On the twenty-seventh, slaughter the rooster; on the twenty-eighth, let the dough rise;

On the twenty-ninth, steam the buns; on the night of the thirtieth, stay up all night; on the first day of the New Year, walk all over the streets."

He softly recited the nursery rhyme he had heard as a child, step by step walking to the street corner. When he was young, the New Year was a matter of entire months; the happiness was real happiness; whether it was decorating with lights and banners or being busy and bustling, family members would hang lanterns together, paste Spring Festival couplets, prepare the New Year's Eve dinner for several days, and do thorough cleaning for several days.

Now, he had not eaten sugar melons for a long time, nor did he have the mood to spend several days sweeping a house; tofu and meat, roosters and dough, could no longer serve as reasons to ask for leave; as for the night of the thirtieth, he did not spend it at home either; elders passed away one by one, and contact was severed bit by bit.

Was it because he had become impetuous and indifferent; or because life had improved, causing the New Year to have no surprises; or was it due to some other reason? Ma Ma Zhaodi was not clear, but what he was relatively clear about was that even a faint flavor of the New Year, he still missed it now.

Only when leaving home does one miss home; for him, the distance to his hometown was now unreachable.

Perhaps he should make some Laba porridge at this time? Although it was not yet time for the Laba Festival, since he wanted to drink it, there was no reason he couldn't.

However, to cook, one at least needs a stove; the immediate priority was to find a place to live. He did not plan to stay long in the hotel in the Burnley District; that was simply too expensive—not because his salary couldn't cover his accommodation costs, but simply because he felt it was unnecessary, and he was already accustomed to saving money, but not yet accustomed to spending it.

"Better go get my car back first; if all else fails, I can spend the night inside the car." Thinking this, he turned his steps and headed towards the East Side.

Passing by a newsstand, he casually bought a newspaper and flipped through it; there was nothing particularly special in it, just gangsters, gunfights, turf wars, and Batman hanging people—hmm? No, wait, there were some useful new pieces of information.

"It is the winter month, heavy snow has fallen, Gotham temperatures will rapidly turn cold; Bruce Wayne publicly stated that this year he will continue to increase funding investment in Gotham City orphanages to help more children get through the winter."

"Additionally, this wealthy young master has also established relief centers in multiple areas of Gotham, built temporary prefabricated houses, distributed food and clothing, and helped the homeless and orphaned wanderers get through the cold winter—special note: if the homeless are willing to help the relief centers with public welfare work, they will also receive remuneration."

Seeing this news, Ma Ma Zhaodi thought to himself that tonight's lodging was finally secure, and he might even be able to get a part-time job.

"To be honest, at least fifty percent of Gotham City's public welfare is supported by Wayne; if you count what he actually does, saying ninety percent is not an exaggeration."

Just then, a system message popped out as well; just as Ma Ma Zhaodi had expected, this message helped him find his first winter part-time job in Gotham City.

(End of this chapter)