The fair and delicate fingers of the girl contrasted sharply with the scars on Match Ma Long's arm. Baia carefully wrapped him in medical bandages, covering the wound, then blew air over it with a mysterious look.
"Untie it later, there will be a surprise," Baia said, pulling down Match Ma Long's sleeve and winking.
And this tall man was much more cooperative than she had imagined. He didn't question anything, nor did he try to charge them for protection fees. At most, he indulged a bit in snacks.
Meanwhile, Bruce was pondering other matters.
He later met with Selina again, and they mentioned Baia. Bruce realized that Selina also didn't know much about her. From Tim and Nightwing's accounts and investigations, he discovered that this girl had some traits that weren't suitable for survival in Gotham.
Too much empathy, not cautious enough, too trusting, and overly naive.
For a girl her age, these might not be considered flaws, but here—in Gotham, where she seemed to be getting involved in the city's special nighttime activities, they were undoubtedly major shortcomings. Bruce's concern used to be that Selina couldn't protect her well, but now it seemed she was protecting her too well, perhaps.
She should go to a city brighter than Gotham, have a student life as carefree and happy as ordinary children. He had similar expectations for each of his children, but they all had their own ideas.
And Baia was easily influenced by others.
In other words: she almost never refused someone's request.
The girl glanced at the clock on the wall, estimating that Baoli's injury was almost healed.
After helping her wash her body and removing the ointment, revealing her fair and clean skin.
"It's like..." Baoli looked at herself in the mirror, somewhat dazed, "it's like dreaming."
"You can come back after you feel better," Baia said proudly, raising her head.
She took her hand and walked into the living room, deliberately swaying in front of Professor Green, who seemed about to pop his eyeballs out, taking off his glasses to wipe them before putting them back on.
"That might be the sister of the lady from just now," Professor Green speculated.
Baia said, "Or maybe it's just that I have some skills."
Professor Green wanted to say something more, but he was pulled away by Mrs. Burentt, who had been lost in thought since the beginning, and he was shocked to see his wife frown tightly.
"Alright, old man, let's talk at home," Mrs. Burentt said softly.
Since the injury was healed, Baoli quickly paid and left. Baia counted the over one hundred dollars several times with joy—Selina gave Baia much more, but it was different.
After Baoli left, Holly suddenly screamed.
"No way! There's a mouse!"
A gray Jerry slipped past her along the wall crack.
"Detective!" Baia immediately shouted, "Do something!"
The name made the black-haired blue-eyed man hesitate for a moment, as if more than one person especially liked to call him that, and he almost reflexively stood up—then immediately realized that it was the cat's name.
A Jerry appearing in an apartment full of cats was unbelievable.
But the cat called upon seemed to suddenly have hearing problems, after resolving the previous situation, it curled up in a flower pot and went to sleep, casually crushing the miniature pomegranate tree Baia had planted into a pile of dead branches and leaves. Despite Baia's sudden increase in volume, it showed no intention of doing anything.
Just lifted its head to see the situation.
Then used its claws to hold its face and continued sleeping.
Bruce took a deep breath and sat still without moving.
Jerry seemed unfamiliar with the route in the apartment and ran amok on the ground floor for a while.
Only when passing Professor Green would he be attacked by Professor Green's cane, but he always avoided it perfectly through snake-like movements.
"Detective!" Baia shouted again with a strong tone of disapproval.
Bruce rubbed his brow.
He quickly stood up, picked up the broom placed by the door, and held it like a baton, walking quickly toward the mouse.
A somewhat brutal blow accompanied by a miserable "squeak" ended the battle very quickly.
The dead mouse was wrapped in a trash bag and thrown into the trash can in one go, probably taking less than thirty seconds.
"So cool!" Baia admired.
And a certain great detective present felt like he had experienced a certain degree of social death, especially since Alfred witnessed the entire process.
And he really didn't want this kind of admiration...!
"Baia!" Holly shouted, "Come and see the great detective."
She forcibly turned the big black cat over, revealing its round belly, and grabbed Baia's hand to let her rub it.
Holly said seriously, "Do you know what this means?"
Baia tentatively asked, "Does it mean the great detective is pregnant...?"
The intense struggle that followed this sentence.
"No," Holly was very dissatisfied that Baia was still pretending to be ignorant and protecting these cats at this point, "it means it ate at least two large pieces of tuna, a plate of Arctic shrimp, three chicken hearts, and a whole egg yolk this morning. You fed it."
Actually, there was also a small dish of chicken breast that wasn't mentioned.
"Well... I think," Baia tried to argue, but Holly interrupted her.
"I think this is the reason why none of our cats catch mice anymore!"
Baia promptly betrayed her teammate, "I think you're right."
Then she promptly changed the subject.
"Thank you for your generous help, Mr. Ma Long," Baia said sincerely, "to express my gratitude, I won't charge—"
"I won't charge a handling fee," Holly interrupted, "but the medical fee still needs to be paid!"
Match Ma Long chuckled, "Alright."
So, the Swallow Clinic received another $50, breaking the $200 mark, which can be said to be very pleasing revenue.
Without lingering any longer, Match Ma Long left, taking with him a snack made by Baia.
You see, Baia was someone with very high requirements for ingredients. She used only the freshest cream and flour on the market, with the best butter and copious amounts of sugar.
Generally speaking, apart from cooking time, ingredients, sugar content, and love, nothing else could make snacks taste better.
And the first three were undoubtedly top-notch.
Bruce decided it was perfectly normal to sneak in an extra meal for himself.
This also meant that Baia's clinic had a much larger expenditure on feeding patients and cats than other clinics. Of course, Baia didn't really care. She didn't lack money now, not to mention that if she sold the powder diamond Selina gave her—by the way, she would never do that—she could buy a exquisite and beautiful penthouse in the bustling city center of Gotham. After Match Ma Long left, the two girls high-fived each other excitedly like high school boys, and belatedly realized that their neighbors hadn't left yet.
Mrs. Burentt hesitated for a while.
On the one hand, she didn't know if she should bring up a topic like this, and on the other hand, she was indeed old. Although she was more sensible and eloquent than her husband, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to remember what she had done and how to articulate her thoughts.
She knew that she was to some extent also a patient, and was irreversibly losing her pride in her intelligence and talent. One day, she would only be able to sit helplessly in a wheelchair, staring into space.
And forever forget everything, her soul departing earlier than her body.
"Baia," Mrs. Burentt finally decided to start like this, "you are a good child."
Baia stopped and sat on the sofa opposite the professor's couple, holding the great detective in her arms, slightly puzzled as she tilted her head, "Thank you."
"Norman is very insightful in modern medicine, although he has almost no other virtues besides that. But..." she smiled, "I believe he won't be wrong about this."
Upon hearing this, Holly immediately looked at the professor's couple with a very wary posture. This impolite behavior was immediately stopped by Baia, who told Holly to tidy up the treatment room.
Holly gave Baia a deep look, "Well, if you need me, you know I'll be there."
"So?" Baia said softly.
"No, no, my dear girl," Mrs. Burentt sensed her alertness and resistance from just one syllable, "we won't ask anything, everyone has secrets. There's nothing strange about that, and sometimes it means you have to protect your secrets better. If you are... a gifted child—I'm not asking if you are or not, just if—then you must hide yourself well."
There may be some positive associations here, but there are more countless mercenaries with superpowers, criminal groups, and even mentally ill people. Society does not hold a positive view of mutants or superpowered individuals.
Her words weren't particularly subtle, but they were gentle enough: "You wouldn't want too many people to know."
"If I want to help others—does that mean I can't hide completely?" Baia realized belatedly that she had entered into a "I have a friend" type of conversation, but she was genuinely confused.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Burentt realized that the conversation was taking a deeper turn and had elevated to a higher level. Both she and Norman had a sense of mission, even though they didn't possess any superpowers—or particularly extraordinary qualities. Nevertheless, Professor Green had once solemnly sworn the Hippocratic Oath and had lived by it for life, and literature—one of the ultimate cares for the human soul—kept her pen moving.
This meant that sometimes they would make quite dangerous decisions.
This meant that sometimes they would consider life not to be the most important thing.
Mrs. Burentt wasn't sure whether she should pass on similar viewpoints to Baia.
She asked, "Can you protect yourself?"
Protecting oneself? A rather broad proposition.
Baia shook her head honestly, "Probably not at the moment."
"Then remain silent," Mrs. Burentt said, "only by staying alive can you achieve your ideals, wishes, and turn your expectations of the world into reality—only by staying alive."
"But what if I can't bear to remain silent no matter what?" Baia asked.
"Then there's nothing to be done, follow your heart."
Mrs. Burentt smiled, feeling like she saw many familiar shadows in the black-haired girl in front of her.
"God will know that you're doing the right thing."
Professor Green always left this kind of difficult social interaction to his wife, holding today's newspaper and reading beside her—of course, not forgetting to perk up his ears to eavesdrop.
Finally, he put down the newspaper, "Although I never believe in any anti-scientific events—"
Mrs. Burentt pinched him, causing Professor Green to cough repeatedly, "And your treatment methods still need to be studied for safety—"
Mrs. Burentt pinched him again.
Professor Green relented, "But if you're truly dedicated to this, I don't mind you coming to me for questions anytime."
"How about tomorrow then," Mrs. Green blurted out, "come to our house for dinner tomorrow, consider it an apology from this rude old man."