Chapter 13: ?

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Zhaodi Ma looked up to see a small, bright, and clean little restaurant standing right in the middle of the street. It didn’t seem very large, which eased his mind slightly. In Gotham, the bigger the operation, the more likely there’s some shady business involved. Keeping the target small lowers the chance of trouble.

“I’m warning you, Donald isn’t an ordinary man. The less you say, the less likely you are to anger him.”

“Is he that formidable?”

“At the very least, the people behind him are.”

They exchanged a few words, but Zhaodi’s mind began to wander again. He recalled the small shops he’d passed by during his school days. The shelves there might not even be restocked once a month; the clerks always glued to their phones, serving with utter indifference. These shops rarely had customers, sometimes didn’t even turn on the lights, yet strangely, they remained open for years—one, two—right up until he graduated. Nobody knew why they hadn’t shut down.

If only this restaurant could be as low-key and effortless as those little shops.

But the moment he stepped inside, Zhaodi’s heart sank rapidly.

After passing through the door, they took a few steps before turning into a gray corridor. There, a beautiful blonde receptionist greeted them with a smile. She seemed to have been tipped off by Donald, nodding politely and guiding them through the corridor into the restaurant’s interior.

Zhaodi didn’t understand restaurant décor, but the artistic wallpaper on the corridor walls already gave him a foreboding feeling.

Upon entering the main hall, his eyes were met with rows of exquisite wine cabinets, warm and gentle lighting, minimalist and elegant wall patterns, vibrant greenery, and well-dressed diners in high-end formal wear exhibiting refined manners.

“Upper class, really damn upper class,” he muttered under his breath, swearing quietly. “This your idea of a small restaurant? Why open a place like this outside the Diamond District?”

“Ordisburg isn’t lacking in wealthy folks. This place caters specifically to some big shots’ needs—don’t think too much, just ask yourself if you want to make money.”

“...”

At this moment, the guiding receptionist turned to them: “Mr. Donald is waiting for you upstairs. Please proceed directly to his office.”

No matter what Zhaodi thought, there was only one choice now—to meet this Donald since they had come all this way.

Drake gave him a reassuring look before leading him toward the nearby stairs.

At the stairwell’s end, burly men dressed in black stood along the hallway, parting to let them pass. It was clear that if the visitors were unwelcome, these men would not be so courteous.

Zhaodi felt a chill crawl over his scalp. His earlier judgment had been way too hasty. This restaurant was no inconspicuous little shop—it was a glaringly prominent backdrop for a major event.

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If it weren’t for the fact that Donald’s power was much closer to this major event than anything else, Zhaodi would have already turned and fled the restaurant.

It took him several seconds to gather his scattered thoughts before following Drake into Donald’s office.

A sturdy, composed middle-aged man sat in an expensive suit. Even from a distance, upon seeing Drake, a faint smile appeared on his face as he stood and approached them.

“Drake, it’s been months. You look much better.”

Though Drake had endured months of anxiety and torment, Donald was right—since last night, the immense burden on his shoulders had finally lifted.

Though the heavy dark circles and gaunt face wouldn’t vanish overnight, his spirit was renewed, and he looked reborn compared to before.

“Yes, I was lucky. My wife’s illness finally improved—soon, I’ll take her away from this city, back to my hometown.”

Zhaodi wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but after hearing Drake’s words, a subtle trace of envy and melancholy flickered in Donald’s eyes.

“To spend your remaining days with your loved one is a rare happiness even in a metropolis. Congratulations, Drake.”

“What’s there to envy? I’m just a poor man. Someone like you with money can go anywhere you want. The kind of happiness you have is beyond my imagination.”

Donald lowered his head and smiled faintly. “My family’s from Gotham, so I’m a Gothamite too… I’ll stay here and go nowhere.”

Sensing the atmosphere growing a bit awkward, Drake quickly nudged Zhaodi forward.

“This is my new friend who just arrived in Gotham. As I told you on the phone, he’s unfamiliar with the city, and his previous skills don’t apply here, so he came to me for help.”

Donald looked up again, swiftly returning to his typical Gotham demeanor. His eyes grew indifferent, and his face expressionless as he carefully sized Zhaodi up from head to toe.

After a moment, he asked, “What’s your educational background?”

“I graduated from university, but in China.”

“?”

Not only Donald but even Drake glanced at Zhaodi in surprise. His modest self-introduction made them initially assume he only had a basic education.

Seeing their expressions, Zhaodi felt his cheeks warm slightly.

“Don’t look at me like that. A school is a school, and I’m me. The school’s abilities don’t necessarily reflect mine.”

A fair point.

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“What skills do you have?”

“I used to write small palace dramas to make a living back home, but that trick doesn’t work in Gotham.”

“?”

Drake couldn’t help but glance sideways again. You say you make a living writing? I naively assumed ordinary articles or novels, but you’re playing some other game here?

What other tricks are you hiding?

“...Not bad. Honest, at least.”

“?”

This time, Zhaodi and Drake looked to Donald in disbelief. Come on, wake up! The guy writes those kinds of things, and you’re praising him?

“Can you use a gun or a knife?”

“No, but I have one.”

Zhaodi said as he reached for the gun at his waist, then suddenly realized how dangerous that move might be. He quickly withdrew his hand.

“Not bad. Not stupid.”

Donald nodded. “How did you get here today?”

“By bus.”

“Brave enough, and your luck’s not bad—though you need to know how to use a gun. Otherwise, you won’t survive long in Gotham.”

Hearing Donald’s blunt but somewhat positive remarks, Zhaodi, who had been ready to give up, found himself unable to hold back.

Damn it, nobody who thrives in Gotham acts like a normal person.