By 1 p.m., Ma Zhaodi finally returned to the filthy residential area of the East End on his beloved ride.
Don't get the wrong idea. It wasn't because they had spent too long choosing a ride. The entire car-buying process had only taken about ten minutes. The reason they had returned at this hour was that Ma Zhaodi's chosen ride had a slight disadvantage in terms of speed.
"Ha, ha, ha." Panting so hard he could barely catch his breath, Ma Zhaodi was drenched as if he'd been washed. Like a dead dog, he pushed a folding bicycle to the roadside and stopped.
A taxi slowly followed behind him and eventually stopped by the road as well. The door opened, and Drake stepped out, looking completely relaxed.
"Are you going to be okay? You only rode from Osburg District back to the East End. Why do you look like you're about to drop dead?"
"I—I'm freaking exhausted. If you're so capable, you ride the whole way next time and see how it feels."
Ma Zhaodi's stamina wasn't actually that bad, but it couldn't be called excellent either. He had managed to finish the journey mainly by taking frequent breaks.
To be fair, since the taxi Drake had called had followed him the entire way, the fare had been shockingly high. Before getting out of the taxi, Drake's bitter expression as he paid had gone a little way toward balancing out Ma Zhaodi's own sense of injustice.
"I told you already. You should've bought a cheap motorcycle, or a cheap used car. But no, you had to buy a folding bicycle."
Drake shook his head and sighed. "Driving a car around Gotham keeps you safe from the street racers. During a shootout, you can even use it as temporary cover to limit the angles from which people can shoot at you. That's practically three benefits in one. What a bargain."
Ma Zhaodi finally caught his breath. He held it in for a long while before forcing out, "I don't know how to drive."
He really didn't know how to drive. The license had been given to him by the system; he hadn't earned it himself. Back in China, he'd only passed the written portion of the test and hadn't learned the practical skills yet—not to mention that American cars and driving methods were somewhat different from China's.
Drake froze when he heard that. "You have a driver's license?"
"The license is real, but I genuinely can't drive. So if I'd bought a car, we'd be able to randomly pick some unlucky bastard on the road tomorrow who was about to get hit, then start a second shootout."
Ma Zhaodi had originally considered checking the prices of the driving skills available in the system. Maybe he could even find an inexpensive ride while he was at it.
But when he opened the system shop again while walking down the street and saw the number listed under his Asset Points, his eyes bulged like brass bells. It felt as if the sky itself had collapsed.
The system still showed that his assets amounted to three dollars, exactly the same as yesterday.
Wait, what about the more than four thousand dollars I just got? I still have it in my bag. How come my assets haven't increased by even one dollar here?
Did you pocket it?
"Self-Made System reminder: You reap what you sow. Those who work shall be rewarded, while those who do not work shall receive nothing."
Only when you have completed work lasting the amount of time corresponding to the payment will your Asset Points increase. Therefore, the settlement time for this batch of Asset Points will be after you complete four weeks of work—in other words, next month.
"Go to hell."
Ma Zhaodi's mood immediately shifted a little.
"What about my tips?"
"Your tips will be settled after each order is completed, and the corresponding Asset Points will be added to the system."
"Then... no... problem." Ma Zhaodi forced himself to calm down one word at a time, gritting his teeth.
The system wasn't completely bastardly. At least he could still obtain some emergency Asset Points during the days he worked.
Since his Asset Points hadn't increased, his plan to buy a cheap ride from the shop or learn a driving skill had to be put on hold for now.
So what should he use as transportation before he learned to drive or obtained a vehicle-driving skill?
Gotham's infrastructure wasn't especially terrible. The East End had buses and a subway, but from time to time, both were frequented by greenwood heroes who liked to shoplift—or simply by groups of three or five people from the streets.
He was a little introverted and didn't really want to engage in warm, friendly conversations—or heated exchanges of opinions—with those people like Old Jack did. But he still had to bring his cash tips home every day.
After all, wages earned in the real world neither needed to nor could simply be thrown into the Self-Made System. As long as he earned money from working, the Asset Points in the Self-Made System would automatically increase. But if he wanted to deposit the dollars he'd earned from working into the system, he would have to spend a certain amount of Asset Points.
So a bicycle, motorcycle, or taxi was a viable option. He only needed to hold out for two months until he finished learning to drive.
In the end, Ma Zhaodi obediently bought a cheap sixty-dollar folding bicycle. As for why he hadn't bought a motorcycle, it was because he could carry the bicycle directly into his home, while a motorcycle faced a much higher risk of being stolen or damaged.
Besides, the more primitive the transportation, the safer it was in the East End. Someone riding a cheap bicycle—a poor bastard—would instinctively be placed behind drivers on the priority list by potential robbers.
The only drawback was that cycling was physical labor and also took quite a lot of time.
Thus, the two of them wobbled along toward the East End. To Ma Zhaodi's surprise, Old Jack's Ride, which had lost two wheels that morning, had taken forty minutes to wobble along the route, yet he had kept pedaling until one in the afternoon.
All he could say was that Old Jack really knew his stuff. Even with the tires extremely loose, his dependable cycling skills had made up for it.
"If I went to work at this efficiency, Donald would fire me in less than three days."
Just as Ma Zhaodi was feeling depressed, the system's voice suddenly rang in his ear. "Self-Made System reminder: The shop sincerely offers Bike Mod Service, starting at 50 dollars in Asset Points; Electric Wheelchair Mod Service, starting at 100 dollars in Asset Points; and Car Mod Service, starting at 1,000 dollars in Asset Points."
"Now that's some damn good stuff."
Never mind what exactly a car could be modified into for only a thousand dollars—what the hell kind of option was this Electric Wheelchair Mod Service?
He carefully examined the wheelchair's PS.
"Top speed: eighty miles per hour. Mood: free and easy. Cool, Alto, cool!"
"Please note: This mod service must be used together with the Wheelchair Driving Expertise Skill. Drive improperly, and your loved ones will shed tears in two parallel streams."
To be fair, in a city like Gotham, the downside was that you encountered all kinds of crazies. The upside was that when you went crazy, everyone would simply look at you—the newest crazy—with accustomed eyes.
In any case, Ma Zhaodi was genuinely a little tempted.
Before you continue