?

Ma Zhaodi raised his head. A small, spotless restaurant with bright windows stood in the middle of the street. Seeing that the place did not seem very large, he felt slightly relieved.

In Gotham, the bigger the business, the more shady dealings it tended to have. Keeping the target smaller meant less chance of getting into trouble.

"I'll warn you now: Donald isn't a simple man. The less you say, the less likely you are to anger him."

"Is he very capable?"

"At the very least, the people behind him definitely are."

After exchanging a few words, Ma Zhaodi began to feel doubtful again. He thought of the little shops he had occasionally passed on his way to and from school when he was young.

The goods on their shelves might not be restocked even once a month. The clerks were always clutching their phones, their service perfunctory beyond belief. There were basically no customers, and sometimes they did not even bother turning on the lights. Yet, strangely enough, they could keep operating year after year. Even after Ma Zhaodi graduated, they would still be open in the same spot. He had no idea why they had not gone under.

If only this restaurant were as easygoing as those little shops.

However, the moment he stepped inside, Ma Zhaodi's heart sank.

After passing through the entrance, the two of them had taken only a couple of steps before turning into a gray corridor. There, they met a beautiful blonde receptionist. She seemed to have received Donald's instructions beforehand and smiled, nodding at them in greeting before guiding them through the corridor and into the restaurant proper.

Ma Zhaodi knew nothing about restaurant décor, but the artistic wallpaper covering the corridor walls had already given him an ominous feeling.

When they entered the main hall, what met their eyes was a row of beautiful, luxurious liquor cabinets; warm, gentle, dim lighting; simple and elegant wall patterns; vibrant green plants full of life; and diners dressed in high-end formalwear, all conducting themselves with polished restraint.

"High society. This is really fucking high society." Unable to hold it in, he quietly swore. "This is the small restaurant you were talking about? Why isn't a place like this in the Diamond District? What's it doing here?"

"Audisburg isn't exactly short of rich people. This place exists specifically to meet the needs of certain big shots. Don't worry about all that. Just tell me whether you want to make money."

"..."

At that moment, the female receptionist leading them turned around and said, "Mr. Donald is waiting for you both. Please go directly upstairs to his office to see him."

It seemed that no matter what Ma Zhaodi's answer was, he could only go meet this boss, following the principle of we're already here.

Drake gave him a look that said everything was under control, then led Ma Zhaodi toward the staircase beside them.

When they reached the end of the stairs, burly men in black were already standing along both sides of the corridor, clearing a path for them. Clearly, if unwelcome guests had come upstairs, their attitude would not have been nearly so friendly.

Ma Zhaodi felt his scalp go numb. He had made this judgment far too fucking hastily. What the fuck, this restaurant was not some obscure little shop at all. It was a huge, eye-catching backdrop for a major event.

If Donald's gun had not been much closer than any major event at the moment, he would have already turned around and sprinted out of the restaurant.

It took him several seconds to gather his chaotic thoughts, after which he followed Drake into Donald's office.

A solidly built, composed middle-aged man in an expensive suit sat in a chair. Even from a distance, when he saw Drake, a faint smile appeared on his face. He rose and walked over to the two of them.

"Drake, it's been several months. You look much better."

Drake had actually spent the past few months being tormented by anxiety and suffering, but Donald was not wrong. Ever since last night, the immense burden weighing on his shoulders had finally been swept away.

His heavy dark circles and gaunt face could not possibly recover overnight, but his spirit and vitality had been completely renewed. Compared to before, he could be said to have been reborn.

Maybe it was just Ma Zhaodi's imagination, but he felt that after hearing Drake's words, a trace of barely perceptible envy and melancholy had appeared in Donald's eyes.

"To spend the rest of your life with the person you love is a rare blessing, even in a metropolis. Congratulations, Drake."

"What's there to envy? I'm just a poor nobody. A rich man like you can go wherever you want. The happiness you possess is something I can't even imagine."

"Me?" Donald lowered his head and smiled. "My parents were Gotham natives, so I'm a Gotham native too. I'm staying here. I'm not going anywhere."

Seeing that the atmosphere had begun to turn strange, Drake immediately shoved Ma Zhaodi forward. "This is my new friend who just arrived in Gotham. Just like I mentioned on the phone, he's new here and doesn't understand the city very well. What he studied originally isn't useful here either, so he came to me for help."

Donald raised his head again, and in an instant, he had returned to his former appearance as a true Gotham native. His gaze turned indifferent, his face expressionless as he carefully sized up Ma Zhaodi from head to toe. After a moment, he asked, "What's your educational background?"

"College graduate, but in China."

"?"

Not to mention Donald—even Drake, standing beside him, could not help glancing at Ma Zhaodi. Ma Zhaodi's self-introduction had been so unhelpful that Drake had assumed he had only an ordinary middle- or high-school education.

Seeing their looks, Ma Zhaodi's face flushed slightly.

"Don't look at me like that. School is school, and I'm me. Just because the school was capable doesn't mean I am."

That made sense.

"What can you do?"

"I used to make a living writing erotic novels back home, but that trick doesn't work in Gotham."

"?"

Drake could not help looking at him sideways again. You said you made a living writing, so I naively didn't ask any further, assuming you meant ordinary articles and novels. So this is what you were hiding?

What other tricks do you have that I don't know about?

"...Not bad. Very honest."

"?"

This time, Ma Zhaodi and Drake both turned to look at Donald. No, wake up! That guy writes porn! You can praise him for that?

"Can you use a gun or a knife?"

"No, but I have one."

As Ma Zhaodi spoke, he reached for the gun at his waist. The next second, he suddenly realized that the movement seemed dangerous, so he put his hand back down.

"Not bad. You're not stupid."

Donald nodded. "How did you get here today?"

"By bus."

"You pass the courage test, and your luck isn't bad. But you need to learn how to use that gun. Otherwise, you won't survive long in Gotham."

Watching Donald coldly toss out one positive assessment after another, Ma Zhaodi, who had originally planned to simply give up and let things go, could not keep himself together.

Fuck, not a single person who does well in Gotham acts like a normal person.