Story

"That was probably when I was seven, during the summer. My parents and I went mountain climbing. I was very brave back then, and I loved walking along dangerous cliffs and sheer precipices. I had an excellent sense of balance, so walking those narrow, cramped mountain paths felt as easy as walking on level ground."

"This time, we climbed halfway up the mountain. A light rain was falling, but I still stepped onto a naturally formed stone bridge suspended in midair, just as I always did. I can still remember those rolling mountain ranges. Rainwater streamed down the ridges, gathering into countless tiny brooks. They leaped through the mountains like mischievous spirits, eventually flowing into the river at the foot of the mountain with a soft, murmuring sound—"

"Stop, stop." Drake frowned and held out a hand to stop Ma Zhaodi from continuing. "We're not Sherlock Holmes, and you don't need to attract readers with descriptions like Watson. Can you get straight to the point?"

"Isn't it pretty good?" Mrs. Camilla smiled and gently patted Drake. "Mr. Ma Zhaodi does have quite a talent for storytelling."

"In short, I fell off a cliff while mountain climbing and landed in a cave."

Ma Zhaodi immediately simplified her story. "There was a Santa Claus in the cave roasting reindeer. He told me that as long as I told someone the story of falling into the cave, all that person's diseases would be cured. Then he rode away on the remaining eight reindeer."

"." In just a few sentences, Ma Zhaodi had made Mrs. Camilla stop smiling. "Ma Zhaodi, I'm a Christian."

"Ah, I'm sorry." Ma Zhaodi shrugged. "At least we know now that Santa Claus really exists."

"Hmm?"

Drake instinctively looked at Mrs. Camilla, and then his pupils contracted sharply.

Ma Zhaodi crossed her legs and hummed a tune. She felt inexplicably relaxed.

"The old tree in front of the door grows new shoots; the withered tree in the courtyard blooms again~"

Strands of black hair sprouted from her dry, bald scalp like willow branches budding in early spring. Within seconds, a waterfall of golden hair fell to her waist. Her shriveled body gradually filled out, returning to a graceful feminine figure. Her pale, sagging skin quickly became rosy and firm, no longer carrying that sickly pallor.

Watching his wife, who had been tormented by illness for years, turn back into a beautiful, captivating woman within seconds, tears welled up in Drake's eyes.

She's so beautiful. Just like when I first met her.

Camilla looked at her smooth, fair hands, which had regained their former appearance, then instinctively stroked the golden hair falling over her shoulder. Leaning against Drake's chest, she silently shed tears.

"I've spent half my life saving up so many words—"

Ma Zhaodi continued humming the song softly, one neither of them could understand. Drake held his wife, who had frozen in place, and for a moment, he couldn't say a single word.

He had endured alongside her for so, so long—until all her hair had fallen out, until her body had withered away and her features had grown dull; until she had gradually become weak, broken, and nearly faded away.

She had endured alongside him for so, so long—until he had lost his job, until he had sold his house and exhausted his savings; until he had gradually become tormented, despairing, and hysterical.

I almost couldn't hold on any longer, she thought. I almost gave up.

Thank goodness I held on. Thank goodness I didn't give up, he thought.

My first Rapid Life Recovery is gone, Ma Zhaodi thought. Drake had better find me a decent job.

******

The next day.

"Drake, how long have you and your wife been in Gotham?"

"Almost a year. Why do you ask?"

"You waited for Victor for an entire year?"

"More precisely, eight months. After eight months, Dr. Victor disappeared in that accident. I've been trying to contact the company he used to work with, but they died far too quickly, so I've recently been searching for clues about Mr. Freeze."

"Thank goodness you didn't find him."

Ma Zhaodi shrugged. "Since you've been here for a year, you should have made a few connections and found a few ways around, right?"

Drake immediately understood what Ma Zhaodi meant. "I'll do my best to help you find some work suitable for an outsider and not too dangerous. But you must remember that in Gotham, there are no truly clean jobs. If we want to live here properly, we can only abandon our moral bottom lines and do everything for survival."

"That's going to be a little difficult." Ma Zhaodi sighed. "Given my physique, murder and arson aren't very realistic. And judging from my intelligence and skills, I'd probably be caught on the spot if I tried stealing or scamming. I don't want to rely on this face to become the kept woman of some wealthy gangster who likes chopping people up, and there's no way I can make money here with my terrible writing—"

"All right, all right, you don't need to say any more." Drake waved his hand. After Ma Zhaodi had finished the first two sentences, the jobs he could think of had been cut in half. Once she finished the last two, only three possible jobs remained.

"Let me make sure." He tried his best to phrase things more tactfully. "Other than writing, do you have any other skills?"

"Driving and counting." Ma Zhaodi tilted her head and thought for a moment. "That's it."

"What about cleaning, cooking, and things like that?"

Ma Zhaodi gave an embarrassed yet polite smile. "A little, but not much. Enough to keep me alive."

"."

The two stared at each other. In that strange atmosphere, Drake asked, "Then do you have any money?"

"If I had money, why would I work?"

". How about you consider going back to the cave and looking for Santa Claus?"

Ma Zhaodi also realized that her request was a little unreasonable. She coughed awkwardly twice. "Ahem, as long as the job is relatively safe."

Drake racked his brains, then thought of something. "Waiting tables?"

"No problem!"

Seeing Ma Zhaodi agree, Drake breathed a sigh of relief. "Gotham is different from other cities. Every industry, large or small, is controlled and protected by gangs. Some are operated by gangs outright. Over the past year, I've built up one connection that might help you find a job at a restaurant, something you can use to get established. But you need to understand that no matter what job you take, you'll have some connection to the gangs."

"As long as they don't ask me to help chop people up with a knife while I'm working, and no one comes to chop me up with a knife while I'm working, then the rest shouldn't be a big problem."

At that, Drake casually snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone to make a call. "Since that's what you're saying, then there's no problem."

"Ring ring—ring ring—"

"Hello?"

The call was answered only after ringing for a full two minutes. A gruff male voice came from the other end. "Drake, what do you want?"

"Bang!"

Ma Zhaodi heard it clearly: a gunshot rang out from the other end of the phone.