The Rolls-Royce Phantom passed through the towering wrought-iron gates. Its tires crunched softly over the gravel drive, and the car came to a stop before the main building's portico. The driver opened the door. Yang Ming stepped out, carrying a black cowhide medical bag.
Alfred Pennyworth stood on the steps. His tailcoat was impeccably tailored, his silver hair combed without a strand out of place.
"Doctor Yang, welcome to Wayne Manor." The old butler bowed slightly, his etiquette faultless.
Yang Ming looked him up and down, his gaze settling on the butler's straight back.
"Mr. Pennyworth, you look remarkably healthy. The core strength required to hold that posture doesn't match the physiology of someone suffering from severe rheumatism and joint pain. Are you sure you need me to open my bag and perform a joint aspiration?"
Alfred turned, pushed open the heavy oak doors, and gestured him inside. "Master Bruce is waiting for you in the study."
They walked side by side down a corridor carpeted with handwoven wool. Yang Ming shifted his medical bag to his left hand. "So today's consultation has been canceled?"
"The young master's exact words were that a clumsy disguise was pointless in front of a medical professional capable of restraining a fully grown man with one hand." Alfred spoke evenly, with a pure London accent. "He has more important matters to discuss with you in person."
Portraits of generations of Wayne Family ancestors hung along both sides of the corridor. The frames were gilded, the oil paintings rich in color.
"With this old-fashioned English decor, maintaining the walnut paneling must cost a fortune in a city as perpetually rainy as Gotham," Yang Ming remarked casually.
"The Wayne Family has never begrudged the cost of preserving history," Alfred replied. "Much like the young master, who