"That's why I feel fear," Bruce said stiffly, "How am I supposed to be there in everyone's crucial monts, preventing them from falling? Even missing one results in one more mad criminal in this world."
Harvey lowered his head, looking at his reflection on his shoes, he said, "I told you long ago, it's not necessary to walk to the end of the path for it to have aning."
"How far you've traveled or how fast you've gone won't change because of when you decide to stop," Harvey moistened his lips and continued, "If you feel that you haven't done enough, then do more, but don't be afraid because you can't finish everything, neither should you feel suffering because of it..."
Harvey patted Bruce's arm and said, "I too have suffered like you when I realized that the law can't guarantee everyone a fair trial. It's not omnipotent."
"No one, no system, no society in this world is perfect. If you can already see how long this path is, your decision should be about whether to continue or give up, not how far you should go."
Harvey looked at Bruce who remained silent. Suddenly, at the end of the street, a car appeared. Harvey squinted his eyes, he seed to have seen this car in the garage of Wayne Manor.
Looking into the driver's seat after the high-beams turned off, Harvey saw Alfred's face.
Gordon, who stood on one side, gave Harvey a look and said, "We still have work to do, so we'll leave first. Your butler is here to pick you up, go with him."
"Get a good night's sleep, everything will pass."
As Gordon's voice softened, it started to rain again in Gotham. The drizzling rain landed on Bruce's head, he began to shiver, not from the cold, as he couldn't feel the cold anymore.
He felt very hot, extrely excited, and a kind of happiness he had never felt before stirred in his chest.
When Alfred's umbrella shadow covered his head, he cald down a bit. Alfred looked at his condition and the wounds on his face, remained silent for a mont, and finally spoke, "Master, let's go ho, Aisha and Dick are waiting for you."
At this mont, Bruce, grabbing Alfred like a life-saving straw, asked, "In this world, is there really no such thing as a perfect system?"
Alfred stood still, a streak of rainwater flowing between him and Bruce, reflecting their faces in its surface — one extrely old yet vital, the other very young but haggard,
"Yes, Master, there is no such thing as a perfect system in this world," Alfred answered. Bruce didn't hear any hesitation in his reply, not a reasoned answer, but more like a piece of common knowledge everybody knew.
Alfred turned his head, looking at the end of the alley, where the neon lights shone on the puddles, making the small waterpit look more dazzling than the sea. He began to speak,
"There is no perfect system in the world because there are no perfect people in the world. People change."
Alfred lowered his gaze, looking at Bruce and continued, "However, many imperfect people strive to create a perfect system. They think they are successful, and the next generation, they believe they don't need to make an effort anymore. All they need is to follow these rules, and everything will be as they wish, so..."
Alfred shook his head, not saying anything more, but Bruce continued, "Do you wish for to leave, Alfred?"
Bruce thought he would imdiately receive an affirmative answer, but unexpectedly, Alfred paused for a mont before replying,
"Master, I wish to take your spirit away with , not just a shell of you. If you want to stay here looking for answers, then take this umbrella. Don't catch a cold."
Alfred handed the umbrella to Bruce. Bruce looked up at him, not imdiately reaching out to take it. He looked for quite so ti before he said, "Don't you have anything to say to ?"
"What would you like to hear?"
"Don't you have so solution for ?" Bruce asked, not making his words too blunt, but Alfred understood. He said, "Haven't you already read books related to Marxism?"
"If you truly believed in it and wanted to follow that path, you wouldn't be here looking for answers." Alfred shook his head and said, "Marxists are not missionaries, no one would walk on the street handing you a book to let you understand its content."
Although Alfred's tone was respectful, his words were blunt, he said, "You are seeking a shortcut from , but there is no shortcut. It's not about understanding a certain theory to get all the answers and escape from all suffering, you must continue to press forward."
"This behavior is contrary to Marxism, it's more like theology. There are no shortcuts or absolute answers here."
"On the contrary, throughout the process of understanding, studying, and deconstructing this theory, you might encounter much more similar suffering." Alfred added, "It's just like writing a thesis."
In the end, Alfred still left, and Bruce sat on the roadside with his umbrella. After his state of excitent weakened a little, he didn't feel much like laughing anymore.
But the absurd and ridiculous feeling still hovered around him. He didn't know when he would burst out laughing.
After returning to Wayne Manor, Alfred didn't imdiately rest. He picked up the telephone and dialed an unfamiliar number.
"Hello? Is that you, Miss Maggie? I'm Alfred, the butler of Wayne Manor. Miss Selina left your phone number..."
"Yes, I hope you can help contact Miss Selina. I don't have her contact information currently..."
"Bruce's condition is terrible, he might have developed so sort of trauma-induced disorder. We are incapable of stopping his impulsive behavior, but maybe Selina can..."
"Correct, I know that they had so argunts, but I think it's necessary to inform her, to avoid any future regret in case sothing happens."
"Alright, I will wait for your news, thank you."
Maggie, back at her apartnt, hung up the phone and sighed.
She knew that Bruce's journey through the slums wouldn't go smoothly, but she hadn't expected the consequences to be so severe.
When Bruce Wayne is ntally sick, it does not only affect him. Maggie might not be well-read, but living in the slums with such a weak body, she has her own wisdom of the world.
She was indeed displeased on behalf of her best friend, thinking Bruce had ditched Selina recently. But she also knew that if she didn't tell Selina about this, and if sothing happened later, Selina might bla her. After all, she could see that there were still feelings between the two of them, and they should sever their relationship.
In the end, Maggie dialed Selina's number. Just as she figured, Selina, who just got a role in a play, was eager to rush back to Gotham upon hearing the news.
After Alfred and Hal picked her up in the Batplane, Selina went straight to see Bruce.
Then she slapped him.
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