"Why? Why are you helping them? You don't stand to gain anything, do you?"
At Batman's question, Zuo Ci froze for a moment, then sighed helplessly.
"How do I put this? I know I'm not a good person. I'm just a profit-driven businessman, greedy for money and women. But at the very least, I'm still human.
Humans aren't perfect creatures. Some are good, some are bad. Some deserve to live well, and some ought to die sooner rather than later.
But whatever kind of people they are, at least in my eyes, none of them should starve or freeze to death, dying helplessly on bustling streets like stray cats and dogs.
I can't stand seeing it. I really can't."
At that, Zuo Ci let out another long sigh.
Alongside his distress, Zuo Ci felt a little more fortunate and grateful. He was deeply thankful that he had been born in that prosperous, beautiful country, one that genuinely treated people as human beings.
There, neither the elderly nor children could truly bear to watch people freeze or starve to death. Even if someone was an utterly irredeemable bastard, the law still had to judge him and carry out his execution, rather than leave him to die of hunger and cold.
Even in ancient times, most people couldn't bear the thought of others suffering from hunger and cold. Even those condemned to death were at least given a final meal.
So, to Zuo Ci, what was happening in Gotham could never be right.
"Besides, helping them isn't entirely without benefits.
From a purely self-interested perspective, if they stay alive and live well, they still have a chance to get back on their feet. By then, I'll probably have cornered Gotham's retail market, and everything they spend will flow into my pockets.
Even if only one in ten manages to turn things around, I'll still come out ahead.
As for the non-self-interested perspective, it'll make me happy. There's an old saying back in China: no amount of money can buy my happiness. If they're living well, at least seeing that will make me happy. That's all."
Batman still said nothing, but inwardly, he revised his assessment of Zuo Ci's character once again.
Previously, Batman had always thought Zuo Ci was someone who maintained a few moral boundaries but liked doing things his own way, following his whims in everything. In D&D terms, he was like a chaotic neutral metallic dragon.
Now, though, Zuo Ci seemed closer to neutral good. Beneath the slightly unhinged air he usually put on, he had a gentle heart.
"All right, if there's nothing else, get going. And remember to knock next time. If you keep barging into my home whenever you feel like it, I'm putting out mousetraps!"
Well, perhaps not quite that gentle.
After Batman left, Zuo Ci got up and drew the curtains, switching off the light as well.
Then he lay straight back down on his little bed, pulled up the blanket, and covered his head.
He was tired, not just physically, but mentally too.
As a staunch young believer in the hammer and sickle, he simply couldn't accept that people had been reduced to this. There was plenty of food. There was plenty of housing...
This shouldn't happen. This wasn't right. This should never have happened.
"Ugh, what a headache. I hope Batman can help me sort this out."
The reason he had entrusted the supplies to Batman rather than some charity was that Zuo Ci knew perfectly well that, in this hellhole, no one would genuinely help these homeless people except Wayne-or rather, the charitable division Bruce personally ran.
"But I can't expect too much from Batman, either. There are too many homeless people, and their situations are too complicated. He definitely can't handle it alone."
Wayne Enterprises was a major corporation in Gotham, true, but it had plenty of competitors here. And while Bruce Wayne had nominally inherited Wayne Enterprises and stood at the helm of that behemoth, that was only on paper.
In reality, his control over Wayne Enterprises was quite limited.
That wasn't merely because he devoted his energy to fighting crime. More importantly, none of the executives within Wayne Enterprises were pushovers, and they wielded considerable power in business.
There were even members of the Court of Owls among them.
In DC canon, Batman had gone bankrupt more than once, even ending up homeless for a time. Wayne Enterprises itself had even collapsed. That alone spoke volumes.
So Batman might improve things, but he probably couldn't solve the problem completely. Another solution would still be needed.
"Ah, what a headache..."
Zuo Ci didn't know why he had suddenly started caring so much about this. Perhaps it was because he still had a conscience.
Worn out, Zuo Ci slowly drifted off amid his wandering thoughts. He had left Jack a message telling him to take another day off and not come to work today, so no one would disturb him.
Probably...
In the innermost secret room of the Iceberg Lounge.
"Dad... Dad... What kind of man are you, really?"
Seated in his custom-made, sumptuous chair, Penguin, Cobblepot, kept stroking his ruby-studded cane as he silently gazed into the empty room.
Few people still knew that Gotham had originally been founded by four powerful families. Just as Batman belonged to the Wayne Family, Cobblepot had been born into the Cobblepot Family, one of those four founding families, and was its current head.
However, unlike the Wayne Family, which remained at the height of its power, the other three families had all declined to varying degrees. The Cobblepot Family had fallen the furthest.
By the time he killed his incompetent father and inherited everything from him, the Cobblepot Family had already dwindled from a mighty force that could move mountains into a shadow-dwelling rat fit only to scrape by in the criminal underworld.
Despite Cobblepot's unparalleled intelligence, Gotham's balance of power had already been set by then. In the legitimate world, Wayne Enterprises dominated finance, Elliot controlled industry, and Kane held pharmaceuticals. There was simply no room for Cobblepot.
In the underworld, although The Roman's power had waned and his organization had split into two factions, that was only in comparison with the past. Falcone and Maroni still loomed like a mountain, pinning Cobblepot firmly beneath them.
Although the Cobblepot Family was nominally the third-largest gang in the underworld, anyone with eyes could see that he was, at best, an old dog groveling at Falcone and Maroni's feet to survive.
Their own power was pitifully small, their businesses few and far between, and all of them were watched by the big players' men. Even their total manpower amounted to only a few hundred people, nowhere near enough to matter.
Despite the difficult situation, Cobblepot wasn't discouraged. He had been waiting for an opportunity, a chance to seize the underworld just as he had once seized his family fortune.
And now, it seemed that opportunity had finally arrived.
At the thought, he finally set down his cane and picked up the gilded old-fashioned telephone beside him.
"Have the gifts prepared. Tomorrow, I'm going to pay 'Dad' a visit in person."
Before you continue