In the afternoon, as the newspaper weather forecast said, it was drizzling in Gotham.

Schiller sat in the manor's study, the sound of rain outside the window like the best sleeping pill.

On some of the cluttered desks, piles of books wavy in the light of wall lamps, reflections of inkwells and Schiller lenses that were particularly bright in a somewhat dimly lit room, he was holding a pen and writing invitations in intricate and ornate flowery English.

It's almost the same all over the world, when you move, you always have to notify friends and family to come over, and Schiller plans to invite his few friends in Gotham over for dinner this weekend.

The rain outside the window is getting heavier and heavier, and some moist air enters the room along the gap in the window, and in the light of the light, you can see the fine water vapor slowly falling on the tabletop, and soon, the part of the desk near the window sill condenses many small water droplets, reflecting the fire of the fireplace behind it, like rubies.

As the sky grew darker, and the fog, which was colder than the day, made the glass cohesive with a layer of hoarfrost, Schiller put down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and looked up.

Looking at the whole Gotham from this angle, it is no different, except that Gotham in the rain is not only more gloomy, but also more quiet, and even makes people feel a little rare leisure.

In any case, the city of the eighties of the twentieth century was much slower than the later pace of the information society, and Schiller wrote a letter all afternoon until the valet came to remind him that it was time for dinner, and then left the study.

By the time dinner had been over, Schiller had dressed, grabbed his umbrella, and left the house, by which time the rain had stopped all afternoon in Gotham, leaving only the cold, moist air that had been breathed into his lungs and permeated the city.

The puddles on the ground were like mercury mirrors in the darkness, reflecting the light of the street lamps into golden shards, like fallen leaves that had not been taken away from the previous autumn, and when Schiller's heel stepped on them, this light disappeared in the slight ripples and splashes of water.

It's also a custom all over the world, when you move, you always have to visit your neighbors.

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The security here is not bad, because anyone who can afford to live and maintain such a manor is either rich or expensive, although it is not as prosperous as the rich areas in the south, but the declining old town also has a slow-paced old-fashioned atmosphere.

There was an opera house just a street away from the manor where Schiller lived, but there were very few troupes performing here, so it became a club for the residents.

Schiller walked to the door of the theater, where the waiters were obviously not so professional, and when Schiller reached the steps of the gate, they stepped forward and opened the door, and Schiller took off his hat and walked in.

Although it was a cold and rainy night outside, it was warm inside the theater, and Schiller's glasses were fogged, so he took them off, walked to the front desk, and tapped lightly on the table.

The foreman, who was dozing off, was in a trance, raised his eyelids, and saw someone, he sat up straight, and then asked, "Do you have an appointment?" ”

"I'm the new tenant who bought the Viscount Manor, and today all the drinks here are on my account, God bless everyone."

The foreman immediately became enthusiastic and said: "It turned out to be you, I just received the news yesterday that the largest viscount manor has a new owner, your vision is really too unique, it is such a luxurious manor that is worthy of a generous gentleman like you." ”

"Don't worry, when everyone comes out later, they will know that you are a gentleman who is easy to get along with."

Listening to the compliments that kept coming out of the foreman's mouth, Schiller quietly put a roll of dollars under the bell, and the foreman immediately said: "You don't have to care about the appearance of this building, after all, this is the oldest theater in Gotham, and it is normal to be a little dilapidated, but our service must be the best......"

As Schiller stepped down the steps of the theater, he glanced back at what was probably the oldest theater in Gotham, it was already full of vicissitudes, many years ago, it had welcomed one famous troupe after another, and countless actors had performed here.

But now, it is completely gone, and the old façade is like a stone tablet that records the history of Gotham, carved after the wind, frost, rain and snow, and may be more exciting than those apocryphal dramas, but not many people want to watch it anymore.

It was late when Schiller returned to the manor, but he still had some things left unfinished last night.

Thanks to this slower pace of the era, Schiller was able to read books slowly, find the knowledge he needed from the materials on paper, and then write them down with a pen and a pen on paper.

Suddenly, there was a slight sound behind him, and Schiller didn't look back, and he said, "Gordon came to visit, at least with a gift, so what about you?" Uninvited bats? ”

Batman's shadow was shaded by the sconces on the wall, and he said, "I'll send it during the day." ”

"Gordon is getting married, aren't you going to give him a gift as this tight-clad weirdo? After all, he's your partner. ”

"I don't have any gifts to give." Batman's tone is always low and flat, and in this late-night room, it makes people a little drowsy.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to wish you a new housewarming."

"I think you went through all the rooms of this manor before I did, and if nothing else, you should have gotten the architectural plans by some means."

Batman didn't answer, he seemed to acquiesce, and he never shied away from showing his overly pre-planned, suspicious character in front of Schiller.

"Did you read today's newspaper? See the news about the Iron Curtain? ”

"That's none of my business."

"It's a big thing in the world."

"Gotham isn't going to get better or worse because of it."

Then both men fell silent, leaving only the rustle of Schiller's pen on paper echoing in the quiet room late at night, and after a while, Batman said, "The gang from the Met, who must have come to hunt you down." ”

"Then let them come, or do you think the people of Gotham will be afraid of the people of Met?"

Batman was silent again.

"I'm guessing you got into a fight with your butler, right?"

Batman didn't answer, but Schiller said to himself: "There was once a man like this who didn't sleep in the middle of the night and went out to race, because he had a fight with his dear 'butler'. ”

"Why are they arguing?"

"Because that person didn't decide whether to marry his housekeeper or not."

Batman was silent again.

"I guess your butler should be very distressed about your injury, but he doesn't want to stop you from continuing with the business you love, so he has to digest the emotions himself."

"But you find that he seems to be sad, and you don't want to stop your career, and you don't want to make him sad."

"Your extraordinary wisdom and meticulous logic don't work at this time, so you can only run out in the middle of the night and drag race."

"Let me guess, your new Batmobile should be parked right in front of my house, and the overheated engine hasn't cooled down until now."

"Is there really a mind-reading technique in this world?"

"Stop asking stupid questions like that."

"If so, can you tell me what Alfred thinks?"

"You are much more straightforward than that person, but yes, in addition to family affection, there is also love that bothers him."

"Love...... The most inscrutable thing, I offered to tell him the answer, but he refused. ”

Batman's gaze fell on the ring on Schiller's ring finger, and he asked, "Are you married?" Didn't your wife come to Gotham with you? ”

"It seems that you don't really want that answer, either."

Schiller said, "Then let's go, you might as well go to Gordon to take you in and stay with me, you will only get the answer you don't want to hear." ”

"It's a good manor, it's 36 rooms, and you sleep upstairs in the master bedroom on the east side, and there's 35 rooms," Batman said. ”

"I'm not going to give you the key."

"I don't need a key."

Schiller put his finger to his eyebrows and said, "But what should you do if you don't come home at night, and your butler comes to me?" ”

"Why do you seem to be more afraid of him than I am?"

"It's hard to explain to you, but I'm really worried that your butler will come to your door."

Seeing that Batman still didn't give up, Schiller could only say helplessly: "Okay, if you want to stay here, I need your parents' consent, go call him now, I have to hear his approval before I can keep you staying here." ”

Batman: "......"

"The phone is downstairs, either go dial or fuck off."

In the end, Batman relented, and he always behaved like a kid when faced with issues related to his butler, just like Stark did with Pepper.

Schiller doesn't mind Batman staying here, he actually doesn't mind Batman checking his new home, anyway, sooner or later there will be this day, 18-year-old Batman doesn't check, and when he is 28 or 38 years old, he will always check, everything in Gotham can't escape the eyes of bats, Schiller is not a Joker, he doesn't have time to play a game with Batman every day.

After a while, when Schiller had finished writing his thesis, it was late at night, and it was already dark outside the window, except for the distant light reflected in the puddles of rain.

Soon, the valet prompted him that the phone was ringing, Schiller picked up the receiver, and Batman stood in the darkest corner of the living room, listening to him talk on the phone.

"Yes, that's right...... No trouble, yes, I know, they always do, I've seen quite a few ...... before"

"Really? That's pretty serious...... I have a professional first aid kit here,...... Oh, yes? You're such a responsible steward......"

"I don't think it'...... matter" Schiller glanced up at Batman, and for some reason, Batman felt his heart suddenly go up and down, like a student who was trembling next to him after being called to find his parents, trying to deduce the level of anger after his parents from the teacher's words.

"Okay, don't worry...... No problem, so be it...... Tomorrow morning, is it? …… I think so, okay...... Good bye. ”

Schiller saw Batman open his mouth and seemed to want to ask something, but in the end he didn't ask anything.

Schiller said: "Your butler said you were injured, but he should have treated you. ”

After speaking, he glanced at the floor clock next to him and said: "It's too late now, your butler said that you should go to bed before nine o'clock, it's more than three hours late, now take the key, hurry upstairs"

"I don't need a key."

With one last word, Batman disappears, Schiller shakes his head, and then goes upstairs as well.

Schiller already knew Batman's true identity, so Batman didn't do anything to sleep in that batsuit, and when Schiller knocked on his door, Bruce was wearing pajamas.

Normally, Batman in his serious state can only see one chin, but now, Bruce's temperament is completely different from his usual one, this is a Batman with a full face exposed.

But it didn't help, and he had a rather tangled and complicated expression when he heard Schiller tell him that Alfred wanted him to be back for breakfast tomorrow morning.

"I advise you to go back, in case he comes to the door, I will never help you, you must know that the teacher will always be on the same front as the parents."

Seeing that Bruce still seemed unhappy, Schiller had to threaten him further: "If I really see Alfred tomorrow, then I will have to talk to him about your studies, this time the final exam, although you barely passed, but the ranking is in the middle of the bottom, and more importantly, you missed 6 times in a semester of your homework, and most of the words were not written." ”

"I've kept all the homework you've handed in, and if you don't want your butler to see your bullshit articles and useless academic garbage other than polluting other people's brains, you'd better go to bed and wake up early tomorrow morning and go back to your Wayne Manor."

Then, before Bruce could say anything, Schiller slammed the door to his room shut.

At night, Bruce lay in bed, thinking about what had happened recently.

Thanks to Schiller's talented and creative industrial chain, the gangsters have not been popular lately, and Batman's job has become difficult.

During the day, he was busy in the hospital conducting various investigations to solve the intricate relationships between the gangs, and at night he had to keep an eye on the various fires to prevent them from hitting too much and spreading too much.

The police are a lot stronger after they have heavy weapons, but this does not mean that the gangsters have no means of countering at all, the police suppress them with heavy firepower, and the gangsters will naturally want to use more ferocious firepower to resist, and the scale of the war is escalating, which also leads to Batman being involved in some more ferocious firepower conflicts before he has time to upgrade his various equipment.

As a result, bat armor, which was originally only intended for some pistol bullets and cold weapons, had no way to defend against damage caused by fire and machine gun grenades.

On the night of a few days ago, Batman was hit by a machine gun bullet, this kind of damage is not comparable to a pistol bullet, each bullet of the machine gun is as long as the palm of a hand, fortunately Batman was only grazed in the shoulder, if this shot really hit his body, I am afraid that half of his lungs will be completely scrapped.

But it also took a very serious toll on him, arguably the most serious injury he had ever suffered during his time in his Batman career.

When he rushed back to Wayne Manor, he was already delirious, and he could still consciously return to Wayne Manor, it was already his extraordinary willpower that saved his life.

Bruce had known for a long time that he was not sensitive to some analgesics and anesthetics, and would often wake up during the anesthesia, and this time was the same, and in the middle of the operation, he half-dreamed and saw Alfred sitting alone on the edge of the operating table.

It was hard for him to describe the look on Alfred's face that had barely beaten in years, and it was hard to prick his heart, which had barely beaten violently in years.

He suddenly found that Alfred had become different from what he remembered, that he was much older and more depressed than when his parents were still alive.

Only then did he realize that the death of the Waynes was not just a matter of harm.

And perhaps, when Alfred found out that he was about to suffer the same injury again, he was much older.

Bruce lay on the bed, he tossed and turned, all he could see of Alfred in his dim mind.

What made him even sadder was that when he woke up from the operation, Alfred didn't say anything, he didn't stop Bruce from doing anything, he just prepared breakfast, just like countless mornings when Bruce woke up from a nightmare.

Bruce can barely swallow when he sits at the table, he's Batman, but he's still a human being, and it's rare for someone to stay calm and eat in the face of such a violent emotional shock.

So he just ate two bites and left Wayne Manor as if he were running away.

In fact, he went to Gordon first, but he just in time for Gordon to drive to Schiller's house.

He followed Gordon all the way, and even the whole time of their conversation in the dining room, Batman was seen out the window.

He also saw Schiller sitting alone in a chair and smoking an entire cigar.

He had never seen Schiller look like this, he looked relaxed, but he was cold and sharp, although in school, Schiller often behaved very seriously, but it was completely different.

It was like another person, a stranger.

He thought that maybe the professor he knew before was just a disguise, just like him.

In this crazy city, two madmen play their respective roles, appearing as a normal social identity, playing the role of teachers and students who are troubled by trivial daily routines.

This may not be a book of "Pride and Prejudice", but a book of "The Self-cultivation of Actors".

In Gotham, a dilapidated and decayed theater corrupted by time, on this stage of Gotham University, the first act of this absurd drama seems strange and funny.

The first teacher Batman meets on his first day of school, a stern and old-fashioned teacher who doesn't seem to want to make trouble for himself at all, gives him the answer he wants most in a motivational counseling session.

And after this drama came to an end, the two actors themselves finally met under the stage.

Regardless of their social identity, the composition of these absurdist dramas is not a coincidence, the madman always attracts the madman, and the weirdo often meets the weirdo, which is just another way of presenting the like.

Bruce lay in bed, drowsy sleep, and he heard the dull sound of the pendulum downstairs of the manor, which was pervasive in his dreams.

Other than that, on this cold night in Gotham 1987, all that can be heard is the almost inaudible sound of the wind and the incessant burning of the fireplace all night long.