Chapter 6: Story

"That was probably in the summer when I was seven. I went hiking with my parents. Back then, I was very bold and loved walking along those dangerous cliffs and precipices. My balance was excellent, and I could walk on those narrow, cramped mountain paths as if treading on flat ground."

"And this time, we climbed to the midway point of the mountain. A fine rain was falling, yet I stepped onto a natural stone bridge suspended in the air just as I usually did. I still remember those undulating mountain ridges. Rainwater flowed along the mountain crests, gathering into countless tiny streams that leaped through the mountains like mischievous sprites, finally merging into the river at the foot of the mountain, making a gurgling sound."

"Stop, stop for a moment." Drake frowned and held up a hand to stop Ma Zhaodi from continuing: "We are not Sherlock Holmes, and you don't need to attract readers with descriptions like Dr. Watson. Can we get straight to the point?"

"That's not bad either." Lady Camilla smiled and gently patted Drake: "Mr. Ma Zhaodi does have a talent for storytelling."

"In short, I fell off the cliff while hiking and landed inside a cave."

Ma Zhaodi immediately simplified his story: "Inside the cave, a Santa Claus was roasting a reindeer. He told me that if I told the story of falling into the cave to someone, I could cure all their diseases. Then he rode away on the remaining eight reindeer."

"." Ma Zhaodi used only a few sentences to make Lady Camilla stop smiling: "Ma Zhaodi, I am a Christian."

"Ah, sorry." Ma Zhaodi shrugged: "At least now we know Santa Claus really exists."

"Hmm?"

Drake instinctively looked at Camilla, and immediately his pupils contracted sharply.

Ma Zhaodi crossed his legs and hummed a tune, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief in his heart.

"New buds grow on the old tree before the door, and the withered tree in the courtyard blooms again~"

Strands of black hair sprouted from her bald, dry scalp, like willow branches budding in early spring. Within seconds, a waterfall of golden long hair cascaded down to her waist. Her shriveled body gradually filled out, returning to a curvaceous female figure. Her pale, sagging skin quickly became ruddy and firm, no longer the sickly pallor.

Watching his wife, who had been tormented by illness for years, transform back into that beautiful and charming woman within seconds, tears welled up in Drake's eyes.

So beautiful... just like the first time I saw her.

Camilla looked at her hands, which had become smooth and white again. She unconsciously stroked the golden hair hanging from her shoulder and leaned against Drake's chest, silently shedding tears.

"So many words stored up in half a lifetime—"

Ma Zhaodi continued to hum a song neither of them understood. Drake embraced his wife, who stood frozen in place, and for a moment, he could not utter a single word.

He had endured with her for so long, so long. He endured until her hair fell out, until her body withered and grew thin, until her face lost its luster; until she gradually became weak, broken, and nearly withered away.

She had endured with him for so long, so long. She endured until he lost his job, until he sold his house, until his savings were exhausted; until he gradually became painful, desperate, and hysterical.

We almost couldn't endure it anymore, she thought. I almost gave up.

Fortunately, we endured, he thought. Fortunately, I didn't give up.

My first life has been quickly restored, Ma Zhaodi thought. Drake had better find me a reliable job.

The next day.

"Drake, how long have you and your wife been in Gotham?"

"Almost a year. Why do you ask?"

"You waited for Victor for a full year?"

"To be precise, eight months. Eight months later, Dr. Victor went missing in that accident. I have been trying to contact the companies he once collaborated with, but they died far too quickly. So recently, I have been searching for clues about Mr. Freeze."

"Good thing you didn't find him."

Ma Zhaodi shrugged: "Since you've been here for a year, you must have some connections and channels, right?"

Drake immediately understood the meaning behind Ma Zhaodi's words: "I will do my best to help you find a job suitable for an outsider that isn't too dangerous. But you must remember, there is no truly clean job in Gotham. If we want to live well here, we must abandon our moral bottom line; everything is for survival."

"That's a bit difficult." Ma Zhaodi sighed: "Given my physique, murder and arson aren't realistic. Judging by my intelligence and skills, theft and fraud would likely get me caught on the spot. I don't want to rely on this face to attach myself to a rich woman from the Heishe Society who likes to chop people, and I can't earn money here with my failed articles—"

"Alright, alright, no need to say more." Drake waved his hand. After Ma Zhaodi finished the first two sentences, the jobs he considered available were cut in half. After Ma Zhaodi finished the last two sentences, only three options remained in his mind.

"Let me confirm." He tried to phrase his words as tactfully as possible: "Besides writing, do you have any other skills?"

"Driving, counting." Ma Zhaodi tilted his head and thought for a moment: "That's it."

"What about cleaning, cooking, and the like?"

Ma Zhaodi gave an awkward yet polite smile: "A little, but not much. Just enough to ensure I stay alive."

"."

The two looked at each other. In this strange atmosphere, Drake asked: "Do you have any money?"

"If I had money, why would I be working?"

"." "How about you consider going back to the cave to find Santa Claus again?"

Ma Zhaodi also realized his request was a bit unreasonable. He coughed twice with slight embarrassment: "Ahem, as long as the job is relatively safe, that's fine."

Drake pondered deeply, then thought of something: "What about serving dishes?"

"No problem!"

Seeing Ma Zhaodi agree, Drake breathed a sigh of relief: "Gotham is different from other cities. Large and small industries are all controlled and protected by gangs; some are even operated directly by gangs. In this past year, I have accumulated a connection that might help you find a job in a restaurant to establish yourself. But you must know, no matter what job you take, you will have some connection with the gangs."

"As long as they don't ask me to help carry a knife and chop people while working, and no one comes to chop me while I'm working, the rest isn't a big issue."

Hearing this, Drake snapped his fingers lightly and took out his phone to make a call: "Since you say so, then there is no problem."

"Ring ring ring—ring ring ring—"

"Hello?"

After ringing for a full two minutes, the call was finally answered. A rough male voice came from the other end: "Drake, what do you need?"

"Bang!"

Ma Zhaodi heard it clearly. A gunshot rang out from the other end of the phone.

(End of Chapter)