Dick seemed to be stunned, he felt that the person opposite was lying, because the dark shadow that appeared in front of him was completely different from the Batman he knew.

But he couldn't refute it, because no one other than Batman would fit in like Gotham's Night.

In other words, the weirdo in front of him, who calls himself Batman, is more suitable for the darkness of the city than the Batman that Dick knows.

As he stood in the slightly humid Gotham night air, every trace of moisture from the ends of his hair to the ends of his skin was like a black wave rushing across his face.

Dick had never seen a Batman like this.

He knew that Batman was the dark knight of Gotham, and that Batman was not the bright and great hero written in fairy tales, but it was this dark charm that attracted Dick deeply, and at this time, he seemed even more fascinated.

"Who the hell are you?" Dick stepped forward slightly in confusion, looked at the figure and asked.

"I'm Batman." The other replied again, but looking at Dick's immature face, he seemed to have a little extra patience, so he added, "Batman of another world."

"Another world?" Dick muttered to himself repeating the words, he felt that he should not accept such a bizarre explanation, did other worlds really exist? There's Gotham there too? Also Batman?

"You know the Batman of this world." The dark shadow on the other side said a sentence, which should have been a question sentence, but he said it in the tone of an affirmative sentence, and it was a matter of course.

Dick was a little more sober, he took a step back, bared his teeth like a cat, and said vigilantly, "What do you want to do? I'm not going to tell you about Batman, you impostor!"

"He shouldn't be Batman." The dark shadow on the other side spoke in an extremely slow tone, each word echoing clearly in Dick's ears with an inexplicable appeal.

"What did you say?" Dick asked, surprised.

"Batman is Bruce Wayne." The deep voice sounded again, but before Dick could be surprised why he knew so much, he heard the man on the other side say.

"He's supposed to be Bruce, not Batman."

Dick's mouth opened wide, he suddenly felt a little weak, instinctively glanced his eyes left and right, he stared at the person in front of him stunned, wondering if he had the ability to read minds.

Just now, while he was standing upstairs, the scene where Batman took him for a ride on the roof of Gotham alternated with the scene where Bruce sat in front of the bed and comforted him, making his spirit, which had not yet fully stabilized, even more chaotic.

And when a stranger suddenly appeared and pierced his heart, Dick felt fear, but he couldn't help but think, sure enough, everyone thinks so, I will think so, and it is normal.

Just when Dick was stunned, the black shadow in front of him disappeared, and Dick didn't notice at all how and when he disappeared, but this made him somewhat believe that the other party was indeed Batman, because only Batman would come and go without a trace like this.

The child's thoughts are always clearly written on his face, and when Dick returns to Wayne Manor, Alfred brings a towel to help him dry his hair, and Bruce just walks out of his bedroom. ….

Dick saw Bruce's movements, but suddenly felt a little angry, he tilted his head to the side, not to look at Bruce, Bruce walked to the couch with some confusion, and asked him, "What's wrong?" Dick? Where did you just go?"

"Why did you come into my room?!" Dick stared at Bruce's face, and when he saw Bruce's slightly confused expression, he became even angrier, and he raised his voice and said, "I don't have any secrets in my room! Great Detective!"

"No, Dick, it's not that I want to snoop into your secrets, it's that Aisha went to your room and asked you to tell her a story, and when she found out you weren't there, she started screaming and messing up your quilt, and Alfred and I just got her out." Bruce patiently explained.

Dick was speechless, but the anger and irritability did not go away at all, and he gritted his teeth and said, "All right

It's that I'm not sensible, and Batman is always right."

After saying that, he shook off the towel, and even Alfred's hand holding the other end of the towel was shaken off.

Bruce immediately frowned, and he stood in Dick's way back to the room and said, "Dick, don't do this, you almost hit Alfred, you need to apologize to him."

Dick turned around and glanced at the old butler's old face, and he lowered his head and muffled, "I'm sorry, Alfred, I'm going back to sleep."

After saying that, Dick rushed into his bedroom well and closed the door without looking back, Bruce looked at his back, shook his head helplessly, and said, "Sometimes, I really don't understand what he's thinking."

There was a hint of hesitation on Bruce's face, and after a while, he nodded and said, "Maybe I've been too much Jason and Tim lately, Dick is a sensitive child, and my adoption of Tim may indeed make him feel unhappy, and if I like Jason and the two of them too much, he will definitely hurt a lot."

"Have you ever asked him about his studies?" Alfred folded the towel and reminded him, "Master, you just finished transferring Jason, and you've been keeping an eye on their homework lately, so maybe you should also take a look at the eldest young master's studies."

Bruce touched his chin and nodded, feeling that what Alfred said made sense, he thought for a moment and said, "Before, I changed schools for him frequently, and he was bullied, I thought, I should go to the school to see him, but I can't rush in in Batman's uniform, it's terrible."

"Why don't you pick him up from school tomorrow?" Alfred suggested, "You can go early, meet his teacher, observe his classmates, and get a feel for his life at school."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and he nodded and said, "I have to say, Alfred, you can always provide me with valuable inspiration, and it is indeed time for me to talk to his teacher about him, including his academic performance, future direction, and talent program arrangements."

Back in the bedroom, Bruce fell asleep as he thought about tomorrow's conversation with the teacher. It was a night of disappointment, Bruce didn't sleep well, and for some reason, he felt a kind of nervousness. ….

He knew that there was hardly anyone in the city who could blame him, but Bruce felt a little overwhelmed at the thought of facing Dick's teacher and learning about his school life.

The next morning, Bruce woke up early in the morning, like every student facing an important exam, and went to the cafeteria at Gotham University to find Victor who was eating breakfast.

Victor was a little surprised that he would come to him, and as he put down his knife and fork, he said to Bruce, "You can't remember the wrong time, right? I said next Tuesday, not today."

"It's not." Bustus sat down across from Victor, but for some reason, he looked a little reserved, put his hands on the sides of his trench coat, and shook his head at the waiter who was about to come over, signaling him not to order.

"I'm going to Dick's school today to ask······ His learning." Bruce's words were a little dry, and the way he looked from side to side showed that he was a little nervous right now.

Before Victor could speak, Bruce put his hands on the table and said quickly, "I made a mistake before, I made Dick change schools frequently, which caused him to always be in an unfamiliar environment, and he was bullied, if Tim hadn't talked about it, I wouldn't have known."

"I'm a little worried······ Bruce said, pinching his fingers. "Worried about what?" Victor asked.

"What if Dick is having a bad time at school? Can I continue to transfer him? When is it a head? He doesn't stay well in one environment and wants to change the environment, but if he is not familiar with the unfamiliar environment, what should he do?"

Victor smiled and said, "Don't worry, Bruce, Dick is a big kid, he has his own ideas, and he will choose a way to live his life that he feels comfortable with."

Victor lowered his head and cut the food on the plate and said, "I don't have children, but I don't pour."

Yes, I have also taught children in junior high school, and children at this age have a lot of ideas, and although adults may not believe it, they can actually handle a lot more than you think."

"Children at this age are not as fragile as you think, and Dick is exceptionally smart and strong, so don't worry too much."

Although Bruce nodded, although his reason was telling him that Victor had done his best to comfort him, he could feel in his heart that Victor's comfort was not the answer he wanted.

Bruce hadn't eaten breakfast at all, but he didn't feel hungry either, he just felt empty in his stomach and his heart was sinking, which was even more pronounced after the ride to Dick's school.

Bruce was warmly received by the principal of the school, and Dick's counselor, an older woman who seemed to be very experienced, sat with Bruce in the reception area of the principal's office and talked about life at Dick's school.

But there was really nothing to talk about, and in front of the principal, the counselor could not have said that Dick had been bullied, or that he had been injured in any way, let alone that Dick was not a good student.

When it came to the real results, the counselor was very tactful about Dick's possible development in ballet and rhythmic gymnastics, and Bruce immediately understood what she meant. ….

"Aren't Dick's grades good?" Bruce asked.

The female counselor hesitated for a moment, but still said, "We don't encourage too much pressure on children to study at this age, and there are many parents in the class who want their children to become Jackie Chan, and excessive grades make children feel very stressed."

Bruce understood her hint again, and the counselor couldn't just say, "Dick doesn't study well because his parents don't like him."

Bruce doesn't actually have that much emotional intelligence, and to understand the counselor's euphemisms and euphemisms, he can only forcibly use his superb IQ to decipher the secrets behind these social cues, but this is actually very tiring.

"What do you think I should do? I mean, without putting too much pressure on him, let his grades improve." Bruce pondered for a moment before speaking, but then he added:

"I'm not asking him to go to any prestigious university, but I think that this kind of achievement wastes his talent, and if it is because I didn't ask him to slack off, I think something should change."

The female tutor took a couple of notebooks from the bag next to her, she put them on the table and pushed them to Bruce, and said, "This is the exercise left by the math teacher yesterday, and the problem is a little difficult.

As Bruce listened, he flipped through his notebook, and the tutor added, "We also allow the children to write their calculations next to the problems, so that the teacher can better understand their ideas and help them correct their mistakes."

"But what worries me a little is that Dick's calculation process seems a little sloppy, he writes the first half well, but the second half is always entangled in a number for some reason, and after repeating the calculation many times, he even crossed out all the previous processes in a bit of irritability."

The counselor shook her head gently and said, "We will emphasize to the child that if there is a question that cannot be done, then put it away, or even he can hand it in blank, and then come to us and ask us how to do this question, and every teacher will answer it for him."

"But he didn't have an answer in the homework he handed in today, the calculation process was sloppy, he scribbled his notebook, and during the day today, he didn't find a teacher to ask about the real problem-solving process."

"Mr. Wayne, if you want him to get a better grade, I think you can start with study habits and patience, Dick is not only in mathematics this phenomenon, if your company can make him less impetuous, I think, it should improve his grades a lot."

Bruce looked down at Dick's notes in his notebook, his brow furrowed deeply, and he could feel that he was angry, because Dick's exercises were indeed scribbled, and they were not properly written on the table, and some of them had thin ink marks at the end of the strokes

traces, like many small insects crawling on the paper.

Obviously, this is not a problem of ability, but a problem of attitudeLast night, Dick didn't do his homework at all, fooled around twice, and found that he couldn't calculate it, and then painted the previous calculation process, as if he was afraid that others would find out that he had calculated a lot, but miscalculated.

This was sending a bad signal, Bruce thought, Dick's teacher was a little too tactful, and this impatient, vainly trying to cover up the mistake would make any teacher who saw the assignment have their blood pressure soaring.

So, when picking up Dick from school in the evening, Bruce seemed a little silent.

-.- to view.

Catch the herd and burn the rope