A cylindrical beam of light hit the center of the city, growing larger and larger, sweeping across the whole city like a storm.
In the recently rained Gotham, all the buildings were washed spotlessly clean by the rainwater. As the sunlight shone upon them, they glistened like diamonds scattered throughout the land.
As the moist air was heated by the sunlight, the scent unique to the fresh air after rain rushed into one's nostrils, reminiscent of a blues saxophone melody played midway.
In the bright daylight that had never descended upon this city, everyone's panicked faces were crystal clear. After the brief blindness caused by the intense light subsided, everyone ebbed and flowed in confusion on the streets.
They watched the gleaming puddles in the sunlight, the water droplets refracting specks of starlight on the street signs, as well as the minuscule yet intense shadow beneath the shop window around the corner.
Uniformly, everyone performed the same action — they lifted their heads to directly gaze at the sun.
No one knew whether the constant tears in their eyes came from the bright celestial body hanging in the sky, or possibly, from the throbbing, fervent heart in their chests, underlining the ordinary afternoon when the downpour came to a halt.
Thomas stared bewilderedly out of the window, standing in front of the glass window at the city's highest point. The intricately detailed streets and alleyways — entirely model-like in sunlight — had never even appeared in his dreams.
So, like a little boy seeing the toy of his dreams in a shop window for the first time, this man past fifty stood anxiously on tiptoe, turned haphazardly, shoved the chair before him aside, and sprinted out of the office door.
He completely forgot the location of both the elevator and the stairs, as well as his concealed identity. He only instinctively charged towards the brightest window in the corridor, built up his strength, and leaped out.
The grappling hook flying out in the bright-blue sky drew an arc; the heat brought by the sunlight on Thomas made him distinctly aware of the wind's presence in the high altitude.
Like a free-flying bird, he plunged from the top of the building, swung high, and when he stood on the edge of the rooftop again, Thomas extended a hand, feeling as if he could touch the sun.
The warm and fiery star had never been this close to him.
Regardless of how many stars in the cosmos, none could surpass mankind's love for the sun, and the sun's partiality for mankind. The most romantic poems written by mankind in praise of the sun express their mutual illumination of each other.
Thus, Thomas stood in silence on the rooftop, but still felt an indescribable void. He leaped again, landing on the street.
The water splashed onto him as a runaway car turned a corner. He didn't dodge it, because he saw that the water droplets flung into the air resembled scattered pearls.
Suddenly, an urgent feeling filled Thomas. He began to sprint through the streets, paying no mind to the mud splashing onto his pant legs.
He rushed straight through the street, stopped at a crossroads, glanced left and right, and spotted the object of his search within his field of view. Briskly swinging his arms and striding forward, he rushed towards a red telephone booth.
Thomas violently opened the door of the telephone booth, lifted the receiver with his shaking hand, and nervously placed his finger on the dial.
At that moment, he froze as if he had pressed the pause button. Thomas clenched his fist and slammed it against the telephone booth's glass, quietly cursing under his breath.
He turned around to gaze at the bright sky above the alley once more, murmuring softly, "Bruce, Bruce, where are you?"
As Thomas stepped out of the telephone booth, looking towards the distance once again, he noticed the cluster of new buildings in the east region silhouetted against the bright blue skyline.
Suddenly, Thomas's stiff arm relaxed, anxious feeling evaporated. He was no longer in a rush for Bruce to see all this.
Becuase he saw the corridors of the buildings filled with children running in groups. Their laughter and screams mixed together, overpowering the sounds of awe.
The new 'sprouts', startled by the unexpected good weather, barely paused for a minute before they continued with their lighthearted play.
Because they live in a sturdy, spacious building with many lights, brightness is not a luxury to them that is rarely seen.
A fatigued Thomas leans against the damp brick wall, taking deep breaths of fresh air, as tense and troubled as if only realising today that he can pant for breath.
Barry laid on the railing of the rooftop at the Rodriguez Manor, gazing at the slowly closing clouds due to the withdrawal of energy. In a somewhat regretful tone, he remarked, "What a pity, this consumes so much energy. It's not permanent."
"Perhaps, for the vampires of Gotham, basking in an hour of sunlight every day is what they want." Lex, also leaning on the railing, added, "With the sunlight, we save energy, and it gives me an extra paragraph to write in my necessity thesis."
"However, professor, are you truly not planning to let Bruce come back to see this?" Lex turned towards Shiller standing nearby and asked, "Didn't he dream of sunlight in Gotham?"
"Then let him dream."
The last ray of sunlight shone on Shiller's grey pupils, looking deep into the layered patterns, and the unfathomable, dense black in the very center.
Bruce hauled himself up from the black hole, walked confidently towards the elevator, pressed the button, and after the door opened, stepped inside.
Soon, with a 'ding dong', the elevator door opened. Bruce stepped out of the elevator, circled round a bend in the circular corridor, turned at the second intersection and arrived before a room door.
"Password." Shiller's indifferent voice came.
"I hate essays."
With a 'click', the door opened. After Bruce entered the room, he picked up a book from the bookshelf next to the bed.
As the pages of the book fluttered open, his figure disappeared. When he reappeared, a luminous city appeared before his very eyes.
In the sky above the Mexican Vikala Village, Clark cradled the sleeping Bruce cautiously, turned his head towards Diana flying next to him and complained:
"...I did say his injuries haven't fully healed and he shouldn't stay up late. Indeed, he conked out just leaning against the rice field's ridge for a rest."
Diana shook her head helplessly, following Clark's gaze to Bruce's face.
His thick eyelashes fluttered slightly in the wind, eyes closed tight, just like a sleeping baby in a cradle, snoring faintly, deeply asleep.