I Am Ice

In the dim corridor, the flickering old corridor lights cast an unsteady glow, barely illuminating the surrounding walls and the outline of the hallway. Rustling sounds occasionally came from the darkness, and sometimes gray rats could be seen scurrying past.

Ma Zhaodi followed the man down the corridor, carefully avoiding the garbage and sewage at his feet. The pungent stench, however, drilled into his nostrils from the stairwell, almost making him gag.

"I really can't stand it. Even in the slums, I can understand if it's a bit dirty or messy, but why is it still so smelly!"

The man replied in a muffled voice, "I'm not sure. Maybe a corpse in one of the rooms has started to rot again."

"Awesome."

Ma Zhaodi was curious why the man's voice sounded different. He craned his neck to look and saw that the guy had already stuffed his nose.

So, he also pinched his nose, his voice becoming muffled, "Why would someone be stupid enough to hide a corpse in their own home, and let it rot and stink?"

"It might not necessarily be hidden at home. Maybe they just died in their room. The landlord said before that some junkies who got high or gangsters who fled home ended up rotting in their rooms."

"People dare to rent these kinds of apartments?"

"You can also choose to find a luxury hotel in the city and book a presidential suite, or lie under a bridge or in an alley for the night."

"I suddenly feel like this place is pretty good."

Broke beggars obviously couldn't afford hotels. As for living on park benches or under bridges – the best-case scenario was being stripped of all your clothes, money, and keys by homeless people; the worst-case scenario was having your throat slit in some unconcerned dark corner, and then being stripped completely naked.

No one would even bury you.

The man walked forward and took out his key to open the door, but Ma Zhaodi suddenly reached out and stopped him.

"Wait a moment. Who is in your house?"

"My wife."

"Then how will you introduce me to her?"

"I can say you're a new friend I just met."

"Then what's my name?"

"..."

The air in the corridor suddenly became awkward.

Ma Zhaodi couldn't quite keep his expression under control, "Seriously, with your brain, you have no future as a criminal, or rather, you have no future in Gotham."

The man's face flushed slightly again, but he suppressed his anger and asked, "Then what's your name?"

"Ma Zhaodi."

"That's strange. It sounds like an Asian name?"

"Hmm?" Ma Zhaodi was slightly taken aback, "Where do I look like I'm from?"

"...You didn't mention it, so I didn't pay much attention." The man's gaze swept up and down Ma Zhaodi, "You're clearly Asian, so why do you look more like a local from Gotham?"

His cheeks were thin, his eyes fierce, and he carried a hint of cunning and coldness. This unique aura even made people overlook his Asian features.

Hearing this, Ma Zhaodi suddenly felt a warmth spread through his heart, and even his corpse spots faded a lot. It turned out the system did deliver after taking the money, not just giving him an identity and some documents and sending him off.

"My name is Drake Lane."

"Then I'll call you Drake. By the way, you're not an archaeologist, are you?"

"Archaeologist? No, I'm not. I'm a software engineer. Why do you ask?"

"Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-three."

Ma Zhaodi immediately understood. He gestured for Drake to open the door, "But no matter what, you shouldn't have fallen this far, right?"

Drake, who had just inserted the key into the lock, was silent for a moment. He looked up at Ma Zhaodi and said, "I'll tell you about this matter. After you enter my house later, don't bring up any topics related to it."

"Okay."

Drake pulled out the key and instead led Ma Zhaodi towards the stairwell.

"Let's go talk on the rooftop."

There was no light in the dark stairwell. Only a faint moonlight and the city lights filtering through the windows barely illuminated the steps. Neither of them spoke, just walked up the stairs one after another, the sound of their footsteps on the steps oppressingly heavy.

After climbing four floors, Drake pushed open a metal door. Outside, the silhouettes of buildings in the distant bustling city could be vaguely seen. To the side stood a huge billboard, barely serving as a light source for the rooftop.

The two walked onto the rooftop. From here, they could overlook the surrounding buildings and streets. It was still dark, with only the sound of residual rain droplets falling into puddles.

"So, how did you get here?"

"It was for my wife."

Drake casually pulled over a dilapidated iron chair, wiped off some water, and sat down. The cold touch sent goosebumps all over his body, but it also helped to clear his tired mind.

"As I said, I was originally a programmer in Metropolis. I was about to be laid off at 33. Before that, I hadn't really thought about where I was going next, nor had I ever thought of coming to a hellhole like Gotham."

"Starting from before I was laid off, my wife had been coughing and losing hair for half a year. I advised her to go to the hospital, but she always refused, saying she wanted to focus on work. Until that day, she came back from the hospital with a diagnostic report."

"Before the diagnosis came out, neither of us paid much attention, thinking it was just some minor issue. But the report said she had a rare disease, a very uncommon one, and the treatment and medication were extremely expensive."

As he spoke, Drake's thin body seemed to stoop even further, his head almost buried in his chest. He clutched his hair with both hands, even pulling out a few strands, as if trying to alleviate his guilt through the pain.

His voice became hoarse, his bloodshot eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and he looked a bit hysterically insane.

He continued, "I emptied my savings, but it still couldn't save her. Her hair had almost all fallen out, and two months ago she started coughing up blood constantly. She could barely sleep at night, and her internal organs began to fail. We were truly out of options. It was then that a specialist told us about a Dr. Victor Fries in Gotham. He was a super genius and a cryogenics expert who had successfully extended his wife's life through a freezing technology."

Hearing this, Ma Zhaodi's mind was about to explode. He knew this was a very sad moment, but at this moment, a genuine urge to run away instinctively surged within him.

Dr. Victor Fries, perhaps more widely known by his alias "Mr. Freeze" than his real name.

Holy crap, ice!