An autumn breeze had just passed, and a cold rain came again. The next morning, the chill seeped through the gaps in the window frame, but disappeared into the warm air inside the house.
Jason crawled out from the soft and comfortable quilt, reaching out to tidy his messy hair which looked like a bird's nest. He stood by the bed, stretched lazily, and opened the window.
The moment the cold air came in, he shivered and quickly closed the gap in the window a bit smaller.
He slipped on his slippers, opened the door, and without turning back to close it, he headed towards the communal washroom at the end of the hallway.
The washroom was about the size of two bedrooms, with four rows of taps in the middle and more taps hanging on the walls. At this time, the washroom was crowded with children, some washing their faces, some wiping their faces after washing, and others filling their cups with hot water.
Jason yawned and saw a tap free right next to him. He walked over, turned it on and splashed his face with cold water, then went to the cabinet at the end of the washroom to fetch his tooth cup and brush to clean his teeth.
The two children next to him were brushing their teeth with mouths full of foam, laughing and spraying bubbles at each other. Most of them were quite curious about brushing their teeth, especially because the toothpaste provided by Yorozuya foamed so much that they could pass for Santa Claus after brushing.
After freshening up, Jason went back to his room to change clothes, then walked around in the Yorozuya's office and found everything as usual.
The children were like fish swimming through the coral and seaweed, unaffected by the strong wind outside the window. Some even broke into a sweat from running and jumping around so much.
At this time, the rosy flush on their faces and the hope in their eyes were unlike anything they had ever shown before.
After a while, Jason led the younger children to the day care, handed them over to a few older girls, then went downstairs to the school to urge the other children to study.
Having taken care of everything in the building, he then left the block, hopped on a bicycle, and headed towards the Iceberg Restaurant.
At the sound of the bell, a waiter came forward to usher Jason into the office upstairs in the restaurant.
There, besides Cobblepot, there were several children, who are the beggars that Cobblepot had previously saved.
They were still very thin, but their complexion and health had improved quite a bit. They were now chatting in low voices.
Cobblepot and Jason led them out, Jason waved to them, saying, "Follow me, we have two children in our care who have moved to a better house after paying more money. Their rooms are empty, and you can live there while the place is being renovated…"
The children were a bit scared, but Cobblepot took the initiative to get in the car. They clearly trusted this leader a lot, so they scrambled to get in the car.
After taking the children to Jason's Yorozuya, Cobblepot didn't get in the car when he came out of the building but decided to take a tour of the East District.
Going around the Phase One and Two buildings, there are the construction sites of Phase Three and Four. At this point, the building was almost half built, and further down the road was the Phase Five and Six projects not far from the Iceberg Restaurant.
One construction site after another sprang up like bamboo shoots, and magnificent high-rises rose from the ground — nothing was more awe-inspiring than this.
Though Cobblepot hadn't read much, he could still feel the roar of the changing times. The roaring of the large machinery was like the wheels of history rolling past. The increasingly tall buildings were like the branches of human society constantly growing upwards.
Upon returning to the Iceberg Restaurant, he drove alone to the North District, which compared to the East District filled with construction projects, was very quiet, if not somewhat gloomy.
The car drove slowly, so Cobblepot could see from the car window that many of the leaders of the Twelve Families, in their mansion windows, were intently admiring their newly acquired collections.
Beautiful paintings, exquisite sculptures, and antique pieces filled with historical atmosphere. Yet, while they were admiring the scenery, others were watching them.
Cobblepot felt that these heads of the Twelve Families were like antiques left over from the last era, carrying the hazy and dim atmosphere of the last century, exquisite yet delicate.
The fence that robustly battled the storms of the last century could hardly withstand the roaring machinery of the new era. If they woke up early on, they might still be able to hold a place in the new era. But if they were unwilling to do so, the museum would be their best destination.
The car stopped in front of Falcone Manor. When Cobblepot got out of the car, he subconsciously adjusted his tie, stamped his foot, then paused for a moment, shook his head, and quickly walked into the manor.
He met Alberto in the meeting room, Cobblepot walked over and shook his hand, saying: "I've heard that you're engaged? Congratulations, but I don't know which family the lady is from…"
Alberto shook his head and said: "No, she's not from Gotham. She's a girl from Metropolis whom Evans met while rehearsing a play. They fell in love, and the Godfather had no objections."
Cobblepot raised an eyebrow, seeming to have some doubts about the last sentence. Alberto said: "I know, there are rumors that the Godfather gained power through his wife's family. But in fact, my mother was not a local of Gotham, nor was she from a prestigious family. She was merely a fisherman's daughter from a small seaside town."
"You and your brother... I mean, this illness...um, you have no objections to it?" Cobblepot asked cautiously, referring to the dissociative identity disorder that Alberto and Evans had.
Alberto shook his head and said: "I can't understand love, nor do I intend to pursue a true love. What I hope more is that the Falcone Family can stand in a broader world, surpass the rules and norms of Gotham, and achieve true glory."
"When is the engagement ceremony?" Cobblepot asked next.
"A week from now, how about we hold it at the Iceberg Restaurant? When the time comes, all the celebrities of Gotham will gather there, which will be good for your business."
"Who would have thought," Cobblepot shook his head, "that I wouldn't want to deal with the people from the Twelve Families right now? They're all talking about the Renaissance, Impressionism. My God, do they remember they're gangster families?"
Alberto chuckled, "That's just how people are. After gaining the wealth amassed through violence and bloodshed, they desperately want to disassociate themselves from their own origins, using all sorts of things to prove their own nobility."
"There's no need for you to be disgusted by them. Perhaps soon, you won't have to see most of them anymore." Alberto shook his head, "Wayne won't wait too long."
As his gaze glanced out of the window, red leaves fluttered down, and the yellow leaves of the ginkgo trees blanketed the path on the day of the engagement ceremony. The whole area around the Iceberg Restaurant was scattered with vibrant fallen leaves, as if to celebrate the couple.
Pair after pair of shiny shoes walked on the red carpet, and one boss after another stepped into the brilliantly lit hall in their sleek suits.
Laughter, congratulatory words, and music rang out all at once. The poppies as red as blood, the dazzling chandeliers, the deep-coloured curtains, their colours all reflected one another bright and radiant.
"...My student, a sincere, upright, and energetic young man, and such a beautiful, dignified, high-minded girl, will today make lifelong commitments to each other..."
"Being Mr. Falcone's teacher, I am deeply gratified. This exemplary student, a loved younger generation, a son cherished by God, an individual both faithful and just, should certainly receive unwavering love..."
At the front of the hall, Shiller glanced at Evans, then at the future Mrs. Falcone, and finally seemed to look past Evans at the godfather standing behind him.
For the first time, the elderly godfather stood behind someone, yet he seemed calm, his expression tinged with a hint of nostalgia.
Shiller then started to pray, saying, "I am here by the grace of the merciful Heavenly Father, witnessing two young individuals making their promise... as Saint Peter once said..."
With his slightly difficult-to-understand prayer, Evans turned around, holding the hand of his fiancée, towards the photographer's camera.
Cobblepot, Bruce, Dick, Jason, and many of Evans's classmates, all came forward, forming a few rows.
With a "click", accompanied by applause and cheers, the photograph flew out of the camera, landing on a brown table.
A hand in a black leather glove gently ran its fingers over the surface of the photo. He put down his violin case, took off his felt hat, and sat down in the carriage of the train.
The distant horn blew, white smoke rising up, and the red carriage passed through the valley.
"Good day, sir, would you like a cigarette?" The train's smoking boy knocked on the carriage door. As it slowly opened, an old face appeared, the hair at the temples white, but still commanding respect.
Seeing the cigar box next to him, the smoking boy apologised with a smile, preparing to leave, but the old man called him back. The man handed the boy a roll of money and asked in Italian, "When will we reach the station?"
"Sir, if you mean the next station, it's in about ten minutes."
The smoking boy finished speaking and then left. When the next station arrived, another person entered the carriage.
Seeing the old man's attire, his fingers trembled slightly. He took off his hat and held it to his chest, saying, "Sir, may I sit here?"
"Of course."
The man opposite heard the old man's Italian, always ending with a downward intonation, just like the people from the previous era.
"Do you know when we will reach the next station?" The Italian, carrying a classical dialect, echoed in the carriage. The man opposite answered, "It's probably in about twenty minutes. If you mean the final stop, it might be a few hours... "
"That's fine, as long as we get there."
The carriage fell silent, and the man opposite noticed the violin case placed under the table. His fingers clenched.
"Relax, child, God bless you."
The old man lit a cigar, and placing it in his mouth, mumbled.
He turned his head to look out of the window, watching the scenery that resembled an Impressionist painting receding at high speed.
The faint clatter from the carriage doors colliding, the ambient noise from outside, the aroma of leather and cigars in the carriage, the occasional sound of a bell, the loud greetings from the steward... it all felt like his younger years.
He considered the legendary past forty years, and how they had finally come to an end. And amidst the cigar smoke, he saw the calm and serene coastline, the fishing boat in the sunset, the beautiful girls from the small town...
In front of the window of Falcone Manor, Alberto saw the lighthouse of Gotham lighting up, casting a hazy light. On another cold, rainy night, it guided the boats home.
The young godfather peered into the distance, looking past the vague coastline within the rain, at Sicily, the beautiful and distant home the protagonist of the legendary stories had so often spoken of.