Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 58: Porridge from Hometown
Of course Jason knew he hadn't sold the car.

In fact, after he drove the car to the car dealership, the dealership owner was almost scared to death. His eyes looked as if he wanted to tear him apart alive. He did not pretend to belittle the car he had stolen with trepidation as he did in the past, counting how much damage his carelessness and imprudence had caused to the car, and then gave a pitiful figure.

This time, he just told himself to get out.

At that moment, Jason would rather take the same beating as usual, because it proved that the car dealership owner at least still had the intention to buy this car.

He had no choice but to drive the car out at the other party's request. He contacted several other car dealerships in the East District, but received the same response.

"If you don't want to die, you'd better return this car because it's too weird."

Jason was frustrated. Most of the kids in the Car Gang had been hungry for two days. They had no food, no hot water, no clothes, and even their shelter was made from old, dilapidated houses they found. They were all hungry, tired, and cold.

This winter is colder than in previous years. Many children have frostbite on their hands and feet. They can only wait to bring back money, or food and hot water, but he can't do it. He can only watch his friends freeze to death and starve to death like in previous winters.

Only a few hundred people die in Gotham City every year due to crime, but no one knows how many people are semi-crippled, permanently disabled, or join criminal gangs in order to survive because of crime, just as no one knows how many homeless children die of hunger and cold every winter.

Bruce Wayne tried his best, but the Wayne Group's funding was limited. The land costs for the rescue center and temporary housing were huge. Even though the number of rescue centers was increasing every year, a large number of abandoned children became street children every year. Their growth rate was too high.

In the eyes of many people, every wooden house in these rescue points is packed every winter, and the winter food and cotton clothes distributed by each rescue center are distributed at the speed of light. This project is undoubtedly the most effective and least shady charity activity in Gotham City's rescue work.

But Jason and his friends are part of the group of children whose number exceeds the capacity. They have to face the reality that there is limited help but too many children wandering the streets.

They failed to snatch away the hope of surviving in the cabins from others, and now they can only rely on their own strength to survive the cold winter.

So, when he saw the eyes of his friends, Jason almost trembled all over. He didn't know whether the younger children would collapse directly after he said that negative answer. It's not that he hasn't seen this kind of scene before. In fact, he has seen it too many times.

"Please help me open the door. I am the cook he hired."

The voice startled and shocked him, and brought his almost frozen hands, feet and body back to life. He knew he had no money to hire anyone, and the person outside the door might have made a mistake, or maybe he was not the one whose car was stolen, but maybe the person who lost the car had really chased him.

But he didn't want to expose the lie, because he saw surprised smiles on his companions' faces. He thought that he hadn't seen them laugh like that for a long time, and the voice outside the door didn't sound so fierce.

So he walked to the door in a daze, untied the rusty chain, and opened the door for the people outside.

An Asian man wearing glasses was standing outside the door, wearing only a thin coat and jeans. He looked younger than expected and was smiling gently.

His body was shaking, and his clothes seemed to be completely soaked with sweat and snow.

It’s really him, Jason thought, I’m done for, what will happen to my friends without me?
Jason, you are such an idiot.

"Ah, you have a bonfire, and it's not too small. That's good, that's good." He smiled and said, "I just need to bring in the pot and ingredients. Please wait."

What is he saying?
Hadn't I stolen his car? I could clearly see in the rearview mirror that this man had been chasing me all the way. Was he really going to cook? Shouldn't he have given me a beating?

Jason was puzzled. His brain usually worked well, and he also liked cars, machinery and other things. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to get along so well with so many car dealership owners. But today, his brain seemed to be frozen.

"Hurry, some people." The man's breathless voice came again from the side: "I can't carry these bags of food and these buckets of water."

Well, this guy doesn't seem as strong as me - that's good, at least I don't have to worry about him attacking my companions after he goes in.

Jason shook his head vigorously, and a little light finally appeared on his dark little face. He waved towards the house and said, "Quick, come over here, some people who can lift things, and help move them into the house."

"Here we go!" The older children couldn't hold back any longer, and with Jason's approval, they immediately ran out of the door of the dilapidated house barefoot.

"Yes, yes, these bags contain food—we don't need to move them all at once, we'll have to carry them several times. These buckets contain water, and these bags contain carbon."

In a daze, Jason and several others moved bags, buckets and a large iron pot from the man's car into the house.

Looking at the charcoal fire that was burning more and more vigorously, Jason now felt like he was in a dream. He felt empty, vague, and unrealistic, as if he had been dreaming since he opened the door.

It was like a story he had heard, like the little girl who lit a match and saw hallucinations - until the smoke brought him back to reality.

"Cough, cough, cough."

Coughing sounds followed one after another, mixed with the man's apology: "I'm sorry, although it's called smokeless charcoal, it burned too much, so there will still be some smoke - otherwise, can you open the door?"

The coughing sound suddenly disappeared.

This was the first time that the charcoal fire in this shabby house burned so vigorously, so vigorously that every child could feel the heat. Everyone stretched their hands and feet, feeling the heat, greedily accepting every bit of temperature from the flame. No one wanted to open the door and continue to be exposed to the biting cold wind outside.

"At least open it a little so it won't be cold." The man sighed, "This porridge will have to cook for a while, and the smoke needs to go somewhere. Once it's done, we can close the door."

Then the swirling smoke slipped out from the quietly opened door, leaving only the pure smell of porridge.

It smells so good, Jason thought. Even though the porridge was only cooked for ten minutes, he already felt it smelled very good. In other words, any food he could eat at this moment would smell very good to him.

"Chef, chef, what kind of porridge is this?"

When the chef heard this question, a look of nostalgia appeared on his face.

"It's the porridge from my hometown, called Laba."

(End of this chapter)