Ma Zhaodi wandered aimlessly through the streets of Gotham City. Strangely enough, he had been roaming around for twenty minutes already, yet he hadn't encountered a single robber.
He even began to wonder if he had somehow come to a fake Gotham.
"Hey, friend."
Just as he was thinking that, a man wearing sunglasses, a mask, and a hooded sweatshirt stopped him in the street.
Fuck, I finally found one. Ma Zhaodi thought, whether I can beg my way to my first pot of gold tonight depends on this.
Although begging might not count as working one's way to prosperity, it could at least help him buy something to eat. He had to save as much of the money in the system as he could.
The next second, the man pulled a handgun from his waistband and pointed it at Ma Zhaodi. His voice was harsh and raised. "Cut the crap. Hand over everything you've got."
His voice was loud enough that several passing pedestrians turned to look, then quickened their steps and vanished down the street.
Staring at the black muzzle, Ma Zhaodi suddenly couldn't get the words asking for money out of his mouth. Goddamn, the criminals in Gotham City are all too high-level. They start by pulling out a handgun.
If you'd just brought out a machete, I could at least have kept some courage to speak.
Ma Zhaodi didn't dare look directly at the gun again. Instead, he instinctively glanced toward the upper-right corner of his vision. Rapid Life Recovery and Save Point remained there, ready to be used and take effect at any time. Most importantly, his safety period had about ten minutes left, which allowed him to recover a little of his rationality.
Seeing that he still hadn't moved, the man's voice grew even louder, nearly becoming a hysterical roar. "I said! Hand over everything you've got!"
The handgun thrust forward viciously, almost pressing against Ma Zhaodi's head. He instinctively took several steps back before stopping in place, then tremblingly reached into the pocket of his jacket.
He pulled out two empty pockets turned inside out—cleaner than his face.
The reason it was fair to say they were cleaner than his face was that Ma Zhaodi felt he had been in Gotham City a little too long. The stubble on his face had already begun to grow in.
"Are you fucking kidding me!"
Ma Zhaodi could feel the robber rapidly turning red with anger. So, although he was extremely frightened, his survival instinct still drove him to explain.
"It's not my fault I'm broke. Do you think I wanted to be a poor guy?"
"Who are you calling a poor guy!"
Fuck, why was this phrase someone's trigger too? Even I didn't react that strongly.
Ma Zhaodi cursed inwardly, but his emotions actually eased a little. He reached toward his trouser pocket. "I'll show you. My trouser pockets are empty too."
The man's gaze followed Ma Zhaodi's hand. Since his sunglasses made it hard to see at night, he had to free one hand to lift his glasses slightly. "I'm watching you. Don't try anything funny."
Then he saw Ma Zhaodi, who was doing nothing funny, pull out two more empty trouser pockets turned inside out.
The man's voice even took on a hint of a sob. "You definitely hid something! Take off your clothes! Let me search you!"
Ma Zhaodi offered no resistance. He immediately took off his jacket and raised both hands.
If you can find even a single cent, I'll call you God of Wealth right here and now.
The man searched for a long time and, sure enough, found nothing. Nearly desperate, he blankly collapsed onto the ground. He ignored Ma Zhaodi beside him, lost in thought about something. Before long, he actually buried his head in his hands and began to cry.
Ma Zhaodi put his jacket back on, then sat beside him and comforted him. "It's okay. Everyone has bad luck sometimes. If you really don't want to go home empty-handed, I can give you my jacket."
"Who the fuck wants your jacket!"
The man swung his handgun over and struck Ma Zhaodi's arm, making it ache. He raised the gun and pointed it at Ma Zhaodi. "What does a poor guy like you know! You won't even make it through tonight!"
"I know you're a beginner, doing this for the first time. I've been walking around the streets for quite a while, and every robber could tell that I was a penniless poor guy, with pockets cleaner than my face. But you couldn't tell."
The hand holding the gun trembled twice. The tears in the man's eyes gradually turned into a flush of rage on his face.
"You wear sunglasses, a mask, and a hooded sweatshirt while robbing people at night, but you aren't wearing gloves, you haven't engaged the safety, and your gun might not even be real. After restraining me, you didn't drag me into an alley right away. You were too loud during the robbery and drew far too much attention. You repeatedly thrust the barrel too far forward, and when I reached into my trouser pockets, your attention completely left the hand holding the gun. You gave other people far too many chances to take it away."
"You fucking—"
"Your emotions aren't stable enough, and your search wasn't thorough enough. A thief shouldn't leave empty-handed. You could have taken my jacket and other clothes, but you didn't. After the robbery failed, you could have left immediately, but you didn't do that either. You sat here and started crying."
"Shut the fuck up!"
The man swung the butt of the gun at him again, but Ma Zhaodi dodged it.
"I know you're anxious, but calm down first. Ordinary people don't just run out into the street to rob people for no reason, so something must have happened to you—what if I can help?"
The man didn't want to waste words on him. He put away the handgun and wiped the tears from his face. When he took off his sunglasses, Ma Zhaodi saw his bloodshot eyes, dark circles, and a mental state on the verge of collapse.
"There are already enough lunatics in Gotham City. There's no need to add another one."
Ma Zhaodi spoke from behind him. "You came out to rob people because you're short of money. You used a fake gun, which means you originally had a relatively high moral and educational level. You have severe dark circles, which means your financial troubles have been weighing on you for a long time. The amount of money you need definitely isn't small."
"You can't possibly rob a bank. That's the business of supervillains and gangs, and I don't recommend getting involved. Trying your luck all over the city is still trying your luck, and trying it with me is also trying your luck. If you tell me what happened, maybe I can help."
The man's footsteps paused. In a hoarse voice, he spoke again. "Why do you want to help me?"
"I don't help people for free. I just arrived in Gotham City, I don't know my way around, and I need a fairly reliable job. Besides, I don't have anywhere to stay tonight. If I can't help you, we go our separate ways—you return to your home, and I sleep on the streets. If I can help you, then we strike a deal. I'll stay at your place temporarily and help you solve your problem, while you help me find a reliable job. Of course, an unreliable one is fine too, as long as nobody dies."
The man hesitated for a long time. In the end, he turned around, walked back, and slowly sat down beside Ma Zhaodi.
"You're not from Gotham. I'll trust you this once." He removed his glasses and stared blankly at Gotham's dark night sky. "I don't have any other options anyway."
Before you continue