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🕑 Added 2025-05-25 16:37:20 +0000 UTCChapter 57: Jason Todd
When Cody woke up, he was already outside the hotel.
"This is where it ends. Next time something happens, you can call Gordon directly. Don't pull dangerous stunts like that again; Gotham is already dangerous enough."
"Wait a second, take this."
Cody casually pulled a small bottle from his pocket and tossed it gently into the darkness.
"Special apple juice. Heals wounds fast, good for using in a fight. It's a secret recipe, don't ask. If you don't wanna drink it, just toss it."
There was no response, but no sound of the bottle hitting the ground either, so Cody didn't say anything else. He turned and walked into the hotel lobby.
Batman was always like this; once he said what he needed to say, he'd just vanish into thin air.
The next day, the Wayne Charitable Foundation announced free aid for the reconstruction and repair of the homes destroyed by the fire last night. Of course, that had nothing to do with Cody; it wasn't his place.
The landlord wasn't willing to refund Cody the rent. He promised that after the reconstruction was finished, he could use the remaining balance to keep renting there. But Cody didn't want to live there anymore. It had felt great yelling at everyone that night, so he hadn't thought much about it at the time. But now, it was starting to sink in – he'd chewed out so many people, there was no way he could stay in that area. If someone came looking for payback, his normal life would pretty much be over.
Something else that was kind of interesting was that the Wayne Charitable Foundation also cut 30% of its funding support for Gotham City's public fire department. They declared that if fire trucks couldn't get to the scene within five to fifteen minutes of receiving a fire call, then they didn't need that much funding support anyway.
This wasn't a harsh demand. Thanks to Wayne Enterprises donating huge sums of money for infrastructure in Gotham City, the subway, light rail, airport, and road conditions were pretty decent. Everyone could see it was purely a show of dissatisfaction with the Gotham fire department's deliberate inaction last night; it wasn't intentionally making things difficult.
But the two pieces of news that grabbed Gotham City's attention the most weren't those, but a swirling, heavy snowfall.
That's right, it was the twelfth lunar month, and Gotham City's weather had finally fully entered winter. Of course, that subtle term "twelfth lunar month" was only meaningful to Cody himself; everyone else still called it December.
It was still sunless weather, but Gotham under a blanket of ice and snow looked a lot more charming than its usual gloomy self. Houses and streets were draped in silver, along with tall snow-covered fir trees and stark, bare dead trees. In this vast white cityscape, kids would occasionally run and play – they were the ones who loved playing in the snow the most.
Cold, fresh air filled Cody's lungs, his exhaled breath turning into a faint white mist in the air. He walked down the street, looking at the occasional red-clothed Santa Claus flashes in the shop windows, the strings of pale yellow lights gradually being hung along the streets, and the scattering of people wearing Christmas hats. It felt unusually fresh; he hadn't often seen so many people with smiles on their faces during his time in Gotham.
Even though Christmas Day was still a ways off, people were already starting to look forward to it. The atmosphere had a bit of a Chinese New Year feel to it – hanging lanterns and decorations, families celebrating. Of course, the vibe had faded a bit in recent years; more work, fewer days off, no time for dusting and kitchen god rituals, simplifying buying new year's goods, not much time to visit relatives, and thorough cleaning taking too much time and energy.
Cody thought to himself quietly, lost in thought. Although it was almost Christmas, everyone sees Hamlet differently. He found it hard to control his memories and associations.
"Little kids, don't be greedy, after the eighth day of the twelfth month comes the New Year; Laba porridge, eat for a few days, tra-la-la until the twenty-third; Twenty-third, sticky candy; twenty-fourth, sweep the house; Twenty-fifth, make tofu; twenty-sixth, go buy meat; Twenty-seventh, kill the rooster; twenty-eighth, knead the dough; Twenty-ninth, steam the buns; stay up all night on the thirtieth, walk the streets on the first day of the new year."
He softly recited the nursery rhyme he heard as a child, walking step by step to the street corner. When he was little, the New Year was a whole month-long affair. The happiness was real happiness. Whether it was hanging lanterns and decorations or being busy, the family would hang lanterns and put up spring couplets together. New Year's Eve dinner would take a few days to prepare, and the big clean-up would also take a few days.
Now, it had been a long time since he'd eaten sticky candy, and he wasn't in the mood to spend days sweeping a house. Tofu and meat, rooster and dough couldn't be reasons to take time off. As for the thirtieth night, he wouldn't be spending it at home. Elders were fewer one by one, and connections were breaking off little by little.
Was it because he had become more restless and indifferent, or because life had gotten better, leading to less excitement during the New Year, or was it for some other reason? Cody didn't know, but he knew one thing for sure: even a hint of that faded New Year's flavor, he still missed it now.
You only miss home when you're away from it. For him, the distance to his hometown was now unreachable.
Maybe he should make some Laba porridge right now? Although it wasn't time for Laba yet, since he wanted to drink it, there was no reason he couldn't.
However, to cook, he'd need at least a stove. The most urgent task was still finding a place to stay. He didn't plan on staying in a hotel in Burnley for long; it was just too expensive. It wasn't that his salary couldn't cover his accommodation costs, it was simply that he didn't see the need, and he was already used to saving money but not quite used to spending it yet.
"Guess I'll go get my car back first," he thought. "Worst case scenario, I can sleep in the car at night." With that thought, he changed direction and headed towards the East End.
As he passed a newsstand, he grabbed a newspaper and flipped through it. There wasn't much special news – just the usual gangsters, shootouts, turf wars, Batman hanging people, etc. Wait, no, hold on, there was some useful new info.
"As winter sets in, heavy snow falls, and Gotham's temperature is expected to drop rapidly. Bruce Wayne has publicly stated that he will continue to increase funding for Gotham City's orphanages this year, helping more children get through the winter."
"Additionally, the well-heeled young master has already established relief centers in multiple areas of Gotham and built temporary shelters, distributing food and clothing to help the homeless and street orphans survive the cold winter. A special note: if homeless individuals are willing to help with public service work at the relief centers, they will also receive compensation."
Seeing this news, Cody thought to himself, his place to stay tonight was definitely sorted. He might even be able to snag a temporary job.
"Gotta say, at least half of the public welfare in Gotham is propped up by Wayne. If you count the stuff he actually does, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say ninety percent."
Just then, a system message conveniently popped up. Just as Cody had guessed, this message helped him find his first winter gig in Gotham City.
"Gotham City Winter
Task Description: Gotham City is typically ten months of gloomy, rainy weather, plus two months of a long snow season. These two months are a hassle for some, no big deal for others, but for some, they are a brutally cold winter that they have to fight with all their might to survive. For them, a bowl of porridge might mean a life saved.
Status: In Progress (0%)
Reward: Will increase in sync with task completion. Add the 'Holiday' attribute to the food you cook. For every orphan you help with food, the effect of the 'Holiday' attribute will be strengthened by one hundred-thousandth. Additional Reward: For every thousandth of a percent of enhancement gained, receive one hundred US dollars in asset points."
"How much?!" Cody carefully read the rewards, his eyes glued to the additional reward. "Why is it so generous this time?"
According to the system's calculation method, one percent completion was a thousand, ten percent was ten thousand, and one hundred percent was one hundred thousand – one hundred thousand US dollars in asset points. Even if the task only progressed halfway, that was still fifty thousand dollars in asset points.
As for the difficulty of the task, Cody didn't think about it much. Anyway, its danger level was definitely not as high as the previous few times.
Lost in thought, he circled the street corner near the burnt-down building ruins several times.
"Huh? Where's my car?"
Cody scratched his head and searched for another long while. The street corner was empty; forget the car, even the tire tracks were completely covered by the swirling heavy snow. At this moment, Cody was starting to freak out a little.
"Seriously, guys? Who the hell is crazy enough? My car's been sitting here forever, the gangsters wouldn't touch it, the petty thieves wouldn't touch it, I could practically use it as a guardian deity! Which materialist stole it from me?!"
"Isn't he afraid of bad luck?"
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly spotted a familiar outline flashing down the road. It looked exactly like his beloved car.
"No way, holy cow! That IS my car! This damn thing grew a brain and ran away from home!"
He immediately took huge strides and charged after it. However, the car seemed like it was going to stop at the street corner, but appeared startled by his approach, revved the engine again, and sped off down the street.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
At this moment, Cody was running like the wind. The healing effects of his healthy diet over this period didn't seem to just apply to wound regeneration; even his physique was gradually becoming normal. He wasn't the scrawny guy with thin arms and legs he was when he first arrived in Gotham, and even his slight nearsightedness had completely disappeared.
The road was muddy and slippery due to the snow, which kept the car from going too fast, making his pursuit easier. One person and one car chased each other through the streets of Gotham. All the passersby watched Cody chase the car ahead of him on foot, their faces still utterly unfazed. Some even showed mocking smiles.
Great. Gotham was still Gotham.
However, Cody wasn't a rookie in Gotham anymore; he wasn't some pushover. While running, he wrote down the names of everyone who laughed at him in the system's notepad.
"You guys better not show up at any banquets I'm catering, or you'll find out just how brutal the system's extra-strength laxatives can be."
The chase lasted a full fifteen minutes. The car turned into a small alley and finally stopped there. Cody followed the tire tracks in the snow, chasing after it breathlessly. At this point, he wasn't half-dead, but he was definitely running on empty.
Seeing the car in the alley, he was practically in tears. The first thought that popped into his head wasn't "I finally caught up," but "I finally don't have to run anymore."
He couldn't help it; his athletic ability peaked in middle school, started declining in high school, and completely hit rock bottom in college.
He leaned against the car, panting, and weakly tapped on the glass. "Well, look at you, the most useful thing at home knows to take the most useless thing at home out for a workout. You think you're funny, huh?"
However, the car made no response to Cody's accusation.
Cody didn't press the matter. He searched the shop, looking for something to get rid of spirits, but when his gaze fell on the ground in the alley, he realized something was off. The ground here looked like it had been swept.
The method was light, but the movements were too hurried. Cody was an amateur and couldn't track these kinds of traces, but he could see the signs.
No, my beloved car didn't become a spirit; someone still stole it.
He opened the car door, and sure enough, he saw the wires pulled out inside the car.
"This guy must be a rookie."
Cody thought this and felt less rushed. He found a tracking skill in the shop, spent 3,500 points to buy Intermediate Tracking Proficiency, and another ten dollars for a car repair kit. His Beginner Driving Proficiency included a little bit about car repair; this situation was easy to handle.
He planned to follow and see who had the nerve to steal his car.
On the white snow, a child frantically knocked on the dilapidated corrugated iron door, his expression anxious, constantly glancing behind him.
"Open up! It's Jason! Open the door!"
"Jason? Jason's back!"
Sounds of cheering immediately came from inside the door, chains clanking. The method of locking this door seemed even stronger than its own protection.
Ten seconds later, the large door finally opened a crack, and a dirty little face peered out. Before he could look carefully, Jason pushed him back inside the door.
"Stop messing around! Someone's gonna catch up and see us!"
"Who's chasing you? Wait, didn't you go out to sell the car—"
His companion watched Jason frantically lock the door with a rusty half-chain, then looked him up and down. His bright eyes instantly dimmed, and the words he was about to ask died in his throat.
"The car... didn't it sell?"
Jason's movements paused. After locking the door, he didn't look at his friend's eyes, just walked straight inside. But after only two steps, he suddenly stopped again.
The leaky shack was patched up inside with newspapers and wooden boards like a patchwork quilt. Snowmelt occasionally seeped down from the ceiling. The room was packed with kids, their faces sallow, thin, and shriveled, their clothes tattered. They were huddled together around a fire for warmth, their eyes, full of anticipation, fixed on Jason, the smartest and strongest of the older kids.
Another slightly older child rushed to his side excitedly, hugging him and asking, "Jason, did we sell that car we stole last time?"
Jason looked at the expectant eyes of his companions, his fists clenching so hard he almost drew blood. His lips trembled twice; he didn't know what to say, because he knew everyone was counting on his haul today for their first meal in three days.
"It sold."
A man's voice suddenly rang out.
"Help me open the door. I'm the cook he hired."
Chapter 58: Hometown Porridge
Jason, of course, knew he hadn't managed to sell the car.
In fact, after he drove the car to the chop shop, the owner there practically freaked out. His eyes looked like he wanted to rip Jason apart. He didn't go through the usual routine of pretending to look down on the car Jason had nervously boosted, listing all the damage caused by Jason's carelessness and giving him a ridiculously low offer.
This time, he just told him to get lost.
In that moment, Jason would have preferred getting chewed out like usual, because at least that meant the chop shop guy still had some interest in buying the car.
He had no choice but to drive the car away as instructed. He tried a few other places in the East End, and the answer was the same everywhere.
"If you don't want to end up dead, you'd best give that car back. It's bad news."
Jason was crushed. Most of the kids in his 'car gang' hadn't eaten in two days. They had no food, no hot water, no decent clothes. Their shelter was just a rundown old shack they'd fixed up. They were all hungry, exhausted, and freezing.
This winter was colder than usual. Many of the kids already had frostbite on their hands and feet. They were just waiting for him to bring back money, or at least food and hot water. But he couldn't do it. He could only watch, just like in previous winters, as his friends froze and starved to death.
The number of people who died directly from crime in Gotham City was only a few hundred each year. But nobody knew how many were left partially or permanently disabled by crime, or how many joined criminal gangs just to survive. Just like nobody knew how many homeless kids froze or starved to death every winter.
Bruce Wayne did everything he could, but the funding from Wayne Enterprises was limited. The cost of land for shelters and temporary housing was huge. Even though more relief centers were added every year, just as many abandoned kids became part of the street homeless population. Their numbers were growing too fast.
To many people, the temporary housing at these relief centers was packed to the brim every winter, and the winter food and clothes distributed by each center were gone in a flash. This program was undoubtedly the most effective and least corrupt charity effort in Gotham City's relief work.
But Jason and his group were part of the kids who exceeded the capacity. For them, the harsh reality was right in front of their faces: aid was limited, and there were too many kids living on the streets.
They hadn't managed to steal the hope of survival in temporary housing from others, so now they had to rely on their own strength to get through the cold winter.
So, when he saw the look in his partners' eyes, Jason felt like he was trembling all over. He didn't know if the younger kids would just break down completely after he gave them the negative answer. It wasn't like he hadn't seen that happen before; in fact, he'd seen it too many times.
"Could you open the door? I'm the cook he hired."
That voice startled him, shocked him, and brought his almost frozen hands and feet back to life. He knew he hadn't hired anyone. Maybe the person outside had the wrong address, maybe he wasn't the one whose car was stolen, but maybe, just maybe, the guy whose car he stole had actually tracked him down.
But he didn't want to shatter the illusion. He saw the looks of surprised joy on his partners' faces. He thought he hadn't seen them smile like that in a long time. Besides, the voice outside didn't sound particularly menacing.
So he numbly walked to the door, unlocked the rusty chain, and opened the main door for the person outside.
Man with glasses stood outside. He was only wearing a thin jacket and jeans, younger than Jason expected. He was standing outside smiling, a pretty gentle smile.
His body was shaking, and his clothes seemed completely soaked with sweat and snowmelt.
It's really him, Jason thought. I'm finished. Without me, what are my friends going to do?
Jason, you're such an idiot.
"Oh, you guys even have a bonfire, and it's not small. That's great, that's great." He said with a smile. "I just need to bring in the pot and the ingredients. Please wait a moment."
What was he talking about?
Didn't he steal his car? He saw clearly in the rearview mirror; this was the exact man who chased him the whole way.
Was he really going to cook? Shouldn't he be beating him up?
Jason was completely baffled. His brain usually worked pretty well, and he was actually quite into cars, mechanics, stuff like that, otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten so familiar with several chop shop owners. But today, his mind felt frozen.
"Quick, need a few people." The man's breathless voice came from the side again. "Man, I can't carry these bags of groceries and these buckets of water by myself."
Hmm, this guy doesn't seem as strong as me – that's good. At least I don't have to worry about him hurting my friends once he's inside.
Jason shook his head hard. A little spark of life finally appeared on his smudged little face. He waved towards the inside of the shack. "Quick, get a few people who can carry stuff. Help me move it inside."
"Coming! Coming!" A few of the slightly older kids couldn't wait any longer. Now that they had Jason's permission, they dashed barefoot out of the shack's doorway like lightning.
"Okay, okay, these bags here are groceries – no need to carry it all in one trip, there's a few more to go. These buckets here are water, and these bags are charcoal."
In a daze, Jason and a few others carried the bags, buckets, and a large iron pot from the man's car into the shack.
Looking at the charcoal fire burning brighter and brighter, Jason felt like he was in a dream. It felt ethereal, floaty, unreal. It was like he'd been dreaming ever since he opened the door.
It was like that story he'd heard, like the little girl who struck a match and saw visions – until the smoky air pulled him back to reality.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough."
Coughing sounds rose and fell, mixed with the man's apology. "Sorry, guys. Even though it's smokeless charcoal, burning this much is still gonna make some smoke – how about we open the door?"
The coughing immediately stopped.
This was the first time the charcoal fire in this broken shack had burned so intensely, so intensely that every kid could feel the heat. They stretched out their hands and feet, soaking up the warmth, greedily accepting every bit of the fire's heat. No one wanted to open the door and expose themselves to the biting cold wind outside again.
"At least open it a crack, it won't be cold," the man sighed. "This porridge needs to cook for a while longer. The smoke has to go somewhere – we can close the door again once it's ready."
So the swirling smoke slipped out through the quietly opened door crack, leaving only the simple aroma of porridge behind.
Smells so good, Jason thought. Even though the porridge had only been cooking for ten minutes, he already thought it smelled amazing. Or maybe, anything edible that could fill his stomach right now would smell amazing.
"Chef, Chef, what kind of porridge is this?"
The chef heard the question and a nostalgic look appeared on his face.
"It's porridge from my hometown," he said. "It's called Laba Porridge."
