Chapter 773

After the typhoon passed, the weather improved somewhat; the clouds that had long shrouded Gotham began to clear, and after a night of violent wind and rain, the air became refreshingly crisp.

Jason stretched by the window, rolled his neck, and woke up the sleeping Little Rascal. After getting up, Little Rascal washed his face and asked: "Are you going to eat breakfast today?"

"Of course, the school cafeteria is pretty good," Jason patted his chest and said. "I'm still growing—I need to eat more."

"I'm not going today. I still don't fully understand the transmission system the teacher explained yesterday. I'll head to class early to ask him."

Little Rascal grabbed his book and turned to leave, but Jason called out: "Wait—let me grab you something. Burger or burrito?"

"A burrito, but no sauce—it's too salty," Little Rascal said, then stepped out the door. Jason shook his head behind him: "What a weird guy. Weird tastes too."

Suddenly, he pressed his hand to his forehead. "Oh god, transmission system… what did the teacher emphasize yesterday?"

Seeing there was still time, Jason sat on his bed and muttered to himself: "Sometimes, I really envy him for finding something he loves to do."

He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back on the pillow. "... hat do I love? Fixing cars? But I steal tires just to sell them—I really enjoy tinkering with mechanical parts?"

Jason shook his head, as if confused, then suddenly leapt up, stretching his body again. "Jason, you don't have that kind of luck—you can't just lie around counting money. Come on."

Soon, Jason arrived at the cafeteria. Since the vocational college's classes started earlier than the main campus, most diners were vocational students.

They all recognized the two younger kids who had just joined. Jason waved to them.

Jason had great social skills—he could fit in anywhere, thanks to his rough upbringing on the streets of Gotham.

Yaozhidao 。 Zaigetanzhezhongdifang ， Nenggouchengweiyigejiequhaizibangdetouling ， Xuyaodekebujinjinshizhishangheyongqi ， Tongshihaixuyaohengaodeqingshang 。

【14】 In Gotham, becoming a leader of a neighborhood kid gang requires more than just intelligence and courage—it demands high emotional intelligence.

In some ways, kids are harder to manage than adults, make more mistakes, and demand more effort—you must resolve their troubles without making other kids feel unfairly treated.

Jason's Tailfin Gang was infamous along the entire street because their leader had greater leadership—he always resolved impossible problems and protected his gang members' safety and interests.

Little Rascal stole Batmobile tires to practice his skills, but Jason didn't—he stole them only to earn money for the gang. Helping Little Rascal later was just about loyalty.

He himself had little real interest in coming to school to learn car repair.

Carrying his food, Jason looked for a quiet spot to eat—and then spotted a familiar figure in the cafeteria corner: Shi Ler.

Teachers' dining areas and student cafeterias were separate, but since the main cafeteria didn't open this early and the cooks hadn't arrived yet, Shi Ler had been eating in the student cafeteria these past few days.

No student sat near Shi Ler's table, but the diagonal corner was packed—many feared him, worried he'd glare at them and freeze them with his umbrella.

But Jason's thinking was unique—he thought being frozen sounded fun, so he wasn't afraid at all. He walked over cheerfully with his tray and asked: "Professor Shi Ler, can I sit here to eat?"

Shi Ler looked up at him. "Of course. What did you get? A burger? Why's there a burrito too?"

"Oh, that's for Little Rascal," Jason shrugged, setting down his tray. "He didn't understand the transmission system yesterday, so he went to class early to ask the teacher."

"He's a good student—perfect for this field," Shi Ler nodded. "He'll become an excellent automotive engineer."

"Really? You think so too?" Jason sat down, unwrapped his burger, took a bite, and asked: "What about me? What do you think I'll become?"

Shi Ler smiled. "That's for you to decide. What do you want to do?"

Jason sighed. Shi Ler found it amusing—Jason was still a child, yet always wore an adult's solemn, almost comical expression.

"It's because I don't know what I want that I'm asking others. Little Rascal says he wants to invent cars with me—but honestly, I don't care much about cars. I steal Batmobile tires just to sell them for a high price."

"Do you really want to make money?" Shi Ler asked.

Jason shook his head. "I don't need that much. But the Tailfin Gang has many kids who can't get jobs—I need to earn as much as possible to support the gang."

"Still, it's better now," Jason smiled. "Older kids can sell newspapers, cigarettes, or deliver things. Younger ones can go to daycare—it doesn't charge, and feeds them. Otherwise, I couldn't leave. Those brats will cause trouble the moment I'm not watching."

Seeing that familiar adult-like frown again, Shi Ler found it fascinating. "So you want to lead the gang?"

Jason hesitated. "I don't know what leading a gang even means. Is it making a crime syndicate the strongest? But I…"

Jason paused, as if thinking, then said: "I don't know if what gangs do is right. Everyone does it, so I do too—but I don't like robbery, and I want to avoid gunfights as much as possible…"

"I don't know if I have the courage to send the kids I grew up with in the Tailfin Gang to the front lines of gang wars—to get hurt, bleed, and die for my profit."

Shi Ler stared at him, surprised—not because of the view, but because Jason's ability to articulate it far surpassed his age. He expressed clearly questions most children his age couldn't even grasp.

Many feel emotions but don't know where they come from. Many know their source but can't express them in words. Many can express them clearly but are too shy to speak up.

Crossing from feeling to expression involves many hurdles. Usually, it requires understanding and accumulated experience—but some are born with greater innate talent.

They're more sensitive to their own and others' emotions, and can articulate what they sense with sharp, clear logic—smoothly, without obstruction. This is a rare ability.

Shi Ler cut off a small piece of steak and put it in his mouth, watching Jason. "In an environment where no one does good, will you swim against the current and be the one who does?"

"How do you define good and bad?" Jason asked. "I don't want the kids in my gang to starve, so I steal tires and sell them. Newspapers say stealing is wrong—but I can't watch them go hungry."

"They starve because their parents don't raise them. And their parents don't raise them because they died in gang wars—or because gang oppression left them no time."

"So stealing tires from gang members? I'm just collecting child-rearing fees. I don't think that's evil."

Shi Ler stared at him. "What about stealing Batmobile tires? You know Batman is a vigilante who stops crime."

"Because he's rich," Jason said bluntly. "Losing one tire? For him, it's less than a meal. But if I sell it? The Tailfin Gang won't worry about food for two months."

"So you think rich people deserve to be stolen from? Or that crimes against the rich should be excused?"

"I don't know," Jason answered. "I often wonder—why are rich people rich?"

"I'm confused—where does money come from? Newspapers say banks print it. Then why can't banks print more, so everyone has money?"

"Why, when they're already so rich, won't they pay their workers more?"

"They know a single jewel or sculpture they just display could feed poor children for months. Do they refuse because they don't see it—or because they don't care?"

Shi Ler smiled at him. "If you were rich, would you give your money to the poor?"

"That's exactly what confuses me," Jason shook his head. "When I was poor, I hoped the rich would do more. But when I imagine being rich myself, I think: buy a big house, or go on an adventure out west. Is that normal?"

Jason took another bite of his burger. "Newspapers never mention this. The books Little Rascal showed me don't either—they only explain how engines work."

"But can making engines run faster really stop everyone from starving?"

"Do you want everyone to stop starving?" Shi Ler asked.

"Of course!" Jason raised his voice, staring at Shi Ler. "Who wouldn't want that? Wouldn't everyone wish everyone had enough to eat and could afford what they loved? Isn't that right?"

Shi Ler asked again: "Do you think achieving this means stopping evil—or promoting good?"

"Can't we do both?" Jason shrugged. "It's all fantasy anyway—I think we can do both: stop criminals from committing crimes, and reward those who do good, so they do more."

"How would you stop crime?" Shi Ler asked again.

"I don't know. But locking up every criminal doesn't seem to work."

Jason frowned. "Gotham's arrested criminals for years—and still has them. Before, you could blame lazy cops. But since Chief Gordon came, police efficiency improved—and Gotham's still the same damn mess."

Finished with his burger, Jason propped his chin on his hand. "For some reason, my gut tells me stopping evil and encouraging good are the same thing—but I don't know what that thing is."

Shi Ler's eyes grew brighter. Jason glanced at the wall clock. "Oh god, class is about to start—I've got to go study the car transmission system again…"

"I've got to go, Professor. We'll talk another time."

"Wait!" Shi Ler called out. "I really liked something you just said…"

"What?" Jason asked, puzzled.

"Making engines run faster won't stop everyone from starving—not in the short term."

"Then what will?" Jason asked instinctively.

Shi Ler smiled, looking at him.

"If you want to know the answer, I suggest you change your major."

"Change major? To what?"

"Psychology."