Chapter 1199

The forced calmness brought by a large amount of painkillers made Bruce's breathing rate gradually slow down. Setting aside the euphoria that caused hazy hallucinations, fragments of countless scenes began to replay in Bruce's mind.

In countless nights, he had dreamed of the happy family life he should have had: the tall and steady Thomas, the gentle and beautiful Martha. They accompanied him, spending one peaceful and happy day after another.

But these scenes of Thomas in his dreams could in no way overlap with the Thomas he met today; they were too different.

Yet, what made Bruce feel conflicted was that the logic in the actions and behavior of this Batman Thomas was exactly the same as the father in his memory. He didn't think this was an effect that plastic surgery or cloning could achieve.

More fragments, more details—his brain, far exceeding that of an ordinary person, began to work in overload, conducting a comprehensive analysis of all the details within just a few minutes.

Instantly, the mirror-like fragments shattered. Bruce opened his eyes, feeling somewhat dazed.

He finally understood where those conflicting feelings came from. This Thomas gave him a sense of strangeness, but at the same time, gave him a sense of familiarity.

This familiarity didn't come from Thomas's face and figure. In fact, this Batman Thomas was much older than in Bruce's memory, and his physique was also different.

The original Thomas was a businessman. Although he would exercise to maintain his dignified image, it was obviously impossible for him to have the strong and fluid muscle lines of this Batman Thomas, nor did he have such a dark temperament.

Originally, such a big difference should have made him feel strange, but inexplicably, Bruce just felt that the expressions and words of this Batman were somewhat familiar.

After thinking for a while, Bruce stood up from the sofa. A sharp pain assaulted him again. Bruce clutched his chest and stood in place, panting for a while, then shouted at Alfred, "Alfred, before... before, where is that potted plant I brought back from Hell?"

Alfred walked over, helped Bruce, and said, "That little demon named Hex always fights with Aisha, so I sent it to the Rodriguez estate."

Hearing the familiar surname, the corners of Bruce's mouth turned down significantly, but as if pretending not to hear, he said to Alfred, "Can you go get it back? I need to use it tonight."

Alfred nodded. This wasn't difficult; it was originally being fostered at Merkel's place, and he just needed to drive over to pick it up.

After Alfred left, Bruce pursed his lips, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He leaned on the railing and walked slowly toward the basement. Now the basement was his laboratory; the bats weren't here, and that bat equipment was all kept in a cave in the suburbs.

After arriving at the basement, Bruce wanted to start the lathe to make something for himself, but he found that the injuries on his body were truly too severe. He could only lie on the operation panel, moving once every few minutes.

Bruce slowly stood up, turned around, sat down with his back against the lab bench, and breathed slowly and heavily.

And between the sounds of his breathing, a series of rapid footsteps was abruptly interspersed.

Just as Bruce's eyes went dark and he wanted to take out painkillers to eat, he felt his arm being grabbed.

In his haze, he heard anxious calls.

"Bruce! Bruce! Wake up quickly!... Bruce!"

Bruce felt an inexplicable anxiety. He worried that after he woke up, another series of troublesome things would be waiting for him.

His physical condition, which was already approaching its limit, made him instinctively want to escape, but his last bit of reason told him that the voice waking him was very young, so he had to wake up.

Between the black mist and the dreamlike light and shadows, Bruce saw the faces of Jason and Tim, and also saw Dick standing far away at the door of the laboratory.

"I told you, something must have happened to him!" Tim reached out and snatched the pills from Bruce's hand. Jason took the bottle and let out a scream: "My God, where did he get such good stuff?!"

Jason hurriedly stuffed the bottle into his pocket. Tim looked at his actions and asked somewhat puzzled, "What? What medicine is this?"

"This is legitimate painkiller! Not that junk that's been processed twice! Even if you took it to the living hell of today, it could sell for a high price of forty or fifty dollars. For those junkies, they'd trade their lives for it."

Jason said while walking up to flip Bruce's eyelids, sighed, and said, "He took too many painkillers and is now in a state of consciousness dissipation. What on earth happened?"

Tim turned back to pull Dick over. While walking, he said to Dick, "Didn't you see it? His mental state is a bit abnormal. He must have encountered something last night."

"He..." Dick hesitated for a moment, but seeing Bruce leaning on the lab bench with a pale face, he still spoke: "The night I quarreled with him and ran out, I met a strange man. He claimed to be Batman, and I think..."

"You think what?"

"He is more like Batman than Batman."

"My God, stop joking!" Tim patted Dick on the back and said, "Batman is right here."

"It must be some imposter who hurt him!" Dick's tone suddenly showed a trace of anger again. His unstable mental state made him look a bit jumpy, and Tim hurriedly comforted him again.

Jason's expression was also angry. In fact, he was the one with the worst temper among the three. In Gotham, every child who had hung out on the streets had a violent temper. Jason immediately turned to Tim and said, "Don't you know how to crack password locks? Go to the warehouse, open the gun cabinet!"

"No, don't, come back..." Bruce shouted in his haze, "Do me a favor, do me a favor, Dick... Dick!"

Hearing Bruce call his name, Dick instinctively walked over. Bruce seemed to have completely lost consciousness, just instinctively shouting: "Dick, help me press that button in the third row... the design, the design is in the drawer."

Dick turned to open the drawer, but after flipping through the designs inside, he said, "There are no new designs here. Aren't these all ordinary bat equipment?"

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Jason and Tim also walked up. While Bruce was silent, the three of them studied it, and finally, Jason said, "He might need new bat equipment, but that stuff is all in the cave now, so he wants to make a new set."

"Then why doesn't he go get it?... Oh, he can't drive now." Dick suddenly realized.

"Dick, you stay here and take care of Bruce. Tim and I will drive to get the equipment. Remember, absolutely don't let him take any more medicine. Drug addiction has no benefits." After Jason finished speaking, he pulled Tim away quite decisively.

Dick sat by Bruce's side and started shedding tears again. He didn't know if Bruce could hear him, but he still muttered to himself: "I'm really sorry. I didn't know that strange man that day wanted to hurt you."

"Actually, I should have noticed it earlier. He wanted to use me. I should have known he didn't have good intentions, but I was too angry at the time. I thought you were just deliberately trying to blame me."

"Dick... Dick..." Bruce, with his consciousness blurred, called Dick's name, making a sound like a mosquito buzzing. Dick couldn't hear clearly what he was saying, so he leaned closer.

The current Bruce had no rational thinking at all. The impact brought by a large amount of painkillers left him with only instinct, so he stretched out his arm and hugged Dick into his arms.

Dick widened his eyes in shock. He felt Bruce hugging him very tightly, his powerful arms squeezing his chest.

He was like a sponge; after being subjected to such pressure, love and tears were squeezed out like a waterfall.

Dick began to cry loudly, just like a newborn baby. He didn't know if he saw tears in Bruce's eyes, but he could only vent his sadness, grievance, and more emotions he didn't know what they were through crying.

Until Dick began to cry in Bruce's arms, and the fragments of their time together replayed in his mind, Bruce realized that behind the succession of patriarchy were identical fathers and sons looking in a mirror.

Bruce felt that Thomas was so stubborn, overbearing, and old-fashioned, like a piece of wood that couldn't be reasoned with, but perhaps at certain times, Dick also saw him that way.

Thomas made judgments without understanding anything at all and used violent means to force Bruce to accept his concepts, but Bruce, when dealing with Dick, was not necessarily any different.

He seemed to have brought out the patience for good communication, but he actually didn't understand Dick at all—neither knowing why he was like this, nor knowing what he wanted. He interpreted all of this as messing around.

Many people, when they are children, feel that their parents are stubborn, inflexible, and simply unreasonable, and they also say to themselves in their hearts that when they become parents, they absolutely must not become like this.

But if they could really do it, there wouldn't be so many awkward and painful family relationships in this world.

When people are in a low position, they beautify themselves, feeling that with their willpower, even if they are in a high position, they will definitely be able to remain pure.

But when they are truly in a high position, they will think, human nature cannot withstand the test; I am just doing it for myself, what is wrong with me?

The father-son relationship is also like this.

When one is a son, one wants a reasonable father who knows how to understand and communicate.

When one is a father, one will think, I have given him so much, work is so busy, and I bear so much pressure—can't the son understand me?

Humans are fundamentally unable to understand each other and will never learn any lessons from history. Patriarchy is the concentrated embodiment of these two points.

Therefore, the succession of patriarchy has been carried out thousands of times, and when it falls on everyone's head, it is still incomparably painful. No one can be an exception.

And this pain didn't bring Bruce any growth; it just made him realize that he couldn't be immune to the weaknesses of human nature, but what made him feel fortunate was that everyone was like this.

Then, this made him realize that the solution to the various contradictions in the succession of patriarchy is not to let the other party off, but to let oneself off.

As long as one doesn't beautify oneself into an absolutely correct, perfect person with extremely strong willpower and self-control, one won't feel that one can definitely do better than anyone else, and one can also solve the oppression as a father and the rebellion as a son brought about by this.

As a father, the path I point out is not perfect, so you can listen to it for now, and whether you want to walk it is up to you. As a son, my plan for my own life is not perfect, so I still need the opinions of others.

Only by abandoning that unreasonable arrogance and self-beautification that comes from the root of human inferiority can there be room for each to take a step back, and only the space left by this can accommodate love and understanding.

Of course, there is another possibility, Bruce, sitting on the ground, thought: he takes a step back, but the other party pushes forward—at that time, what should he do?

At this moment, Bruce thought again: where is the difference between patriarchy and power?

A father and son have a physiological blood connection; however, this cannot be perceived in reality. The so-called "blood is thicker than water" refers more to the emotional connection. The difference between patriarchy and power lies in love.

And the essence of love is not to make people push forward aggressively, but to make people take a step back out of consideration.

Once there is no love, this relationship becomes thorough exploitation and oppression.

And facing simple exploitation and oppression, what exactly should be done? Bruce knew he had already learned this lesson long ago.