American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

The moment the topic of "photosynthesis fraud" was dropped, Alfred moved again.

He cleared away the plates on the table, leaving hardly any crumbs, without letting even the slightest sound of porcelain clinking disturb the expensive tranquility of the room.

Then, as if by magic, beneath the pristine silver tray, the old butler handed out a thick card.

It was printed with Wayne Medical Center's gold-plated "W" logo, which was a household name even in the Gotham slums.

"Furthermore, I see that your lungs, like your appetite, are in dire need of attention, sir."

Ah Fu bowed slightly, at an angle exactly the same as when he served at Buckingham Palace in England thirty years ago, and even the smile lines at the corners of his eyes carried an irresistible sincerity.

"As luck would have it, a renowned thoracic surgeon at Wayne Memorial Hospital has a last-minute appointment available at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. The young master usually considers such waste of resources a sin."

Bruce didn't even look up; he was holding his phone, seemingly texting the expert or simply replying to a cover girl's complaint.

"This is one aspect of Wayne Enterprises'... well, corporate social responsibility?"

The playboy casually tossed his phone aside and pointed to Xiu En's still-standing aura.

"After all, a human sample that has its own bioluminescence and has not yet developed obvious cancer is probably no less attractive to the medical community than finding an old antique in my garage that is still steam-powered but can outrun a Ferrari."

He finally looked up at Xiu En, but the smile in his deep blue eyes didn't reach his eyes.

"If you don't mind, I can waive all fees. Of course, in exchange for a small amount of data authorization that doesn't involve privacy, I think it's a fair trade?"

Ivy sneered from the side.

"Look at this, this is typical Wayne-style hypocrisy. On the surface, they give you VIP access, but behind your back, it's like they're labeling a lab rat in a petri dish."

She turned and warned Xiu En.

"Be careful, some of the doctors in that hospital might look at you more terrifyingly than the psychiatrists in a mental hospital."

"If lab rats can live in a constant-temperature chamber and eat the best cheese, then I wouldn't mind putting the label on them properly."

Without hesitation, Xiu En reached out and took the card representing thousands of dollars in medical fees. He even tucked it into his dry pocket, patting it twice to make sure it hadn't fallen out.

"Deal, Mr. Client."

He's penniless right now, and he's pretty sure that if that damned system knew there was top-tier medical equipment available for free, it would definitely pop up an achievement reward for saving the host's living expenses.

"But if I may push my luck, could you also take a look at my teeth? I think I might want to get some feedback on my tonsils as well."

"The full set, of course."

Bruce gestured for him to make himself at home.

"As long as you don't think about burning my machine out with light inside the CT scanner."

"Great, deal done."

Ah Fu skillfully regained control of the conversation.

"So, regarding your accommodations tonight. Miss Pamela's room is the same as always; I've changed the sheets to new lavender-scented ones—and this time, I've specially installed a plant grow light on the south-facing window."

He turned to Shuen.

"As for you, sir."

The old butler glanced at Xiu En's glowing "personal show".

"I think you might prefer the guest rooms on the third floor because of the thick blackout velvet curtains covering the entire wall. Unless you prefer the wine cellar downstairs, which is absolutely dark, but I'm afraid the dust there won't be good for your lungs."

"The third floor is fine."

Xiu En stood up.

"As long as there aren't any weird bats hanging upside down from the ceiling, I can consider this place paradise."

At seven o'clock in the morning, when Alfred Pennyworth opened the guest room door, the well-traveled old butler had to squint rather inelegantly, and for a moment, he even wondered if he had forgotten to turn off one of the fusion reactors that was conducting an experiment the night before.

In the center of the room, Xiu En was sitting cross-legged on the large bed.

He was no longer the weak, half-dead man he had been the night before.

Although the halo's power was still incredibly bright, the expression on his face was like that of a cactus that had just soaked up a lot of rainwater.

Full, prickly, and brimming with life.

Good morning, Afu.

Xiu En stretched out a big yawn, his joints cracking as if celebrating that he wouldn't have to sleep on the street anymore.

He didn't even open his eyes; the halo just flickered slightly, as if greeting him.

"Don't worry, I haven't spontaneously combusted. It's just that after last night's high-end mattress therapy, I feel that I can not only keep this light on, but also save the whole estate some electricity."

"Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to suggest, sir."

Afu calmly pulled a pair of retro sunglasses from his pocket, put them on, and casually opened the curtains.

"While Wayne Corporation isn't short of those few dollars in electricity fees, for the sake of Miss Pamela who's still sleeping downstairs and some employees who've already started protesting why it suddenly got light, perhaps you could... dim that sacred glow a little?"

Half an hour later.

restaurant.

Only a few people were sitting at the five-meter-long dining table. Bruce seemed to have worked too late last night and hadn't gotten up yet.

Xiu En had no sense of being a guest; he was struggling with a meal, his halo only slightly dimmed.

Ivy, sitting opposite him, looked at him with a disdainful gaze.

Or rather, looking at his skin, where even his pores seemed to glow gold under the bright light.

"You look like a damn radiation mutant."

Ivy forked a fresh, premium asparagus and took a big bite.

"This light has completely killed my appetite. Can't you just put it back in your stomach?"

"Unfortunately, for my own life, it has to stay here permanently."

As Xiu En swallowed the mouthful of food worth tens of dollars, he felt the tearing pain in his lungs turn into a warm, dull ache for the first time.

The system interface danced merrily on his retina.

[Under continuous light exposure... Body function repair efficiency increased by 15%. Transformation of Geng and Xin metal energies in progress...]

"And don't you think that in this place where even eggs smell of money, shining is the greatest respect you can show to your owner?"

Shamelessly, Hugh grabbed another perfectly flaky croissant from the bread basket next to him and handed it to Jerami, who was practically licking the plate clean.

"Eat up, this is the taste of your Gotham Dream: butter and capital."

Nine o'clock sharp.

Top floor of Wayne Medical Center, VIP special needs clinic.

If you think there's anything that could make the hand of Gotham's top thoracic surgeon, who's seen countless severed limbs and even alien parasites, tremble—it's the X-ray film hanging on the viewing lamp right now.

Or rather, it doesn't look like an X-ray at all, but rather more like a diagram of some kind of sophisticated mechanical structure that is still in operation.

"My God..."

Dr. Harold took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on, his face almost pressed against the black and white film.

"Did I drink too much whiskey yesterday? Or did this machine short-circuit?"

He pointed to the eerie shadows on Xiu En's lungs, arranged like ancient inscriptions, and then turned to look at Xiu En, who was still sitting on the examination bed with the lights on.

"Mr. Wayne told me you might have some unusual lung nodules, but he didn't tell me you were a robot from the Terminator set. Where are your alveoli? How exactly are these things that look like reassembled metal scraps exchanging gases?"

"That's called evolution, doctor."