When Ma Zhaodi woke up, he was already outside the hotel.
"This matter ends here. If you run into trouble next time, you can call Gordon directly—don't take any more reckless risks. Gotham itself is dangerous enough."
"Wait. Take this."
Ma Zhaodi casually pulled a small bottle from his pocket and tossed it lightly into the darkness.
"Special apple juice. It heals wounds quickly and can be used during battle. It's a secret recipe, so don't ask. If you don't want to drink it, you can throw it away."
There was no response, but neither was there any sound of the bottle hitting the ground. Ma Zhaodi said nothing more and turned to walk into the hotel lobby.
Batman had always been like this. Once he had said what needed to be said, he would simply disappear on the spot.
The next day, the Wayne Charitable Foundation announced that it would provide free assistance for the reconstruction and repair of the houses destroyed by the fire the previous night. Of course, this had nothing to do with Ma Zhaodi. It wasn't his house.
The landlord was unwilling to refund Ma Zhaodi's rent. He promised to let him continue renting the place with the remaining balance once the reconstruction was complete, but Ma Zhaodi had no intention of living there anymore. It had indeed felt great to spray insults in all directions that night, so he hadn't thought too much about it at the time. Now, however, he had begun to come to his senses. After insulting so many people, he definitely couldn't keep living in that area. If someone came after him, his peaceful life would basically be over.
Another interesting point was that the Wayne Charitable Foundation had also cut its funding support for Gotham City's public fire services