The road in front of the house was covered in weeds and shrubs, the oak trees in the courtyard were so dense they blotted out the sun, their canopies merging into one. In the distance, Wayne was becoming increasingly lush, looking like a vast, primeval forest.
Poison Ivy should go plant trees in the desert!
Colt calmed himself down, comforting himself: At least Poison Ivy's home turf was Robinson Park this time, Oak Tree Manor was just downwind, only affected by the drifting waves of plant nutrients, no strange, mutated vines had grown there!
It was just the right time to test the multi-threaded process management of the brain-computer interface.
Colt bit into a Bat Lollipop to replenish his nutrients, put on the Quantum Terminal, began controlling the drones to tend the lawn, robots to prune the shrubs, laser cannons to trim the overgrown branches..
After a busy morning, Colt finished writing the machine debugging evaluation report and took the opportunity to inspect all the monitors and strengthen the intelligent protection system.
People are always very patient when they are doing something bad.
The smart security system in the house was made by his father, usually, Colt only performed basic maintenance, but this time he took the initiative to upgrade the system, making use of some toys stored in the basement and even adding traps.
Just thinking about how Red Robin would have to fight through five trials and six generals the next time he tried to pry open a window made Colt so excited that he added a water sprayer to the windowsill.
Passing through a water gate is the highest form of "welcome ritual"!
It was certainly not what he wanted—to see a soaking wet, bedraggled bird.
The robot dragged the cut branches into the forest and then went to clear the road outside, while Birdie supervised the little minions nearby.
Colt left a few branches of Redleaf Heather.
Redleaf Heather is also known as Red Robin; its new leaves are a vibrant red, Birdie loves them too.
The hypnotic sound of rain continued to flow through the study.
Colt found an empty pen holder, tucked a bundle of Red Robin branches into it, placed it on the desk, then aimed the lens of the Red Robin monitor at it.
Making money is an eternal topic.
When you exclude illegal or unethical industries like scams, then further exclude those that require appearing on camera or speaking, then exclude those with high artistic value, there aren't many industries left that can make money online.
Colt had been doing online translation for five years to relax his brain, which was filled with formulas, to practice his linguistic perception, to earn some pocket money on the side.
AI translation has been very popular over the past two years, most of his peers have switched tracks. Relying on the reputation he built up previously, Colt is still able to take on some orders. He mainly translates cutting-edge journal papers, mostly involving minor languages.
However, as long as the money was right, Colt would take on other manuscripts as well.
Colt checked his private messages and received a love letter.
The Patron requested the love letter be translated into as many languages as possible, the more the better, with the draft due in three days. For a love letter of less than two hundred words, the asking price was 500 dollars per language, with no upper limit.
Colt counted off on his fingers the number of languages he knew; if he had the Quantum Superbrain crank up the intensity a bit more, he could earn an upgraded Wayne monitor.
He looked at the Red Robin monitor beside him.
The camera, which had originally been aimed at the vase of Redleaf Heather, had turned toward the computer monitor at some unknown point.
Colt poked the round little head of the Red Robin monitor.
The camera spun in a dizzying circle, re-focusing on the vase. It paused for two seconds, then spun around once, twice, three times..
A bit cute.
But at the thought of someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes, Colt let out a cold snort.
Spin, spin, spin, can you see it? You're just spinning?
Colt stuck the monitor on top of the computer screen and typed back a rapid response: [Are you sure it's 500 dollars per language? You didn't add an extra zero?]
The Patron happened to be online and replied almost instantly.
Yes, the Patron who sent the private message to Colt had the nickname Patron.
【Patron: That's correct. More than ten languages; for every additional language, add 1,000 to the price, but you cannot use dialects of the same language to pad the count. 】
[My pen can write answers on its own: Sure, are there any other requirements?]
[Patron: My Chinese-American friend says your translations are faithful, elegant, expressive. I hope you can deliver your highest standard; poor quality won't do.]
My pen can write answers on its own: first, pay a deposit of five thousand, I'll give it to you within seventy-two hours, which is by ten o'clock on Tuesday morning.
The other party was a big spender; the deposit was sent incredibly fast, they even added an extra zero, sending fifty thousand directly!
Colt counted the balance in the bail account, then carefully read through the love letter once, barely managing to find any sign of sincere emotion amidst the long string of flowery sentences praising the moonlight, roses, gems.
People who aren't sincere don't spend fifty thousand dollars writing love letters!
[My pen can write answers on its own: Is this your account? Even if you are a minor, once the transaction is complete, no refunds will be given.]
The Patron deposited another fifty thousand into the security deposit account!
[Patron: Rich and willful.]
Colt counted the five zeros and felt the other person's extravagance!
【My pen can write answers on its own: The way you send money is even cooler than Mr. Wayne, you'll definitely win over the one you love! 】
[Patron: For that, I'll add a 30% tip.]
Colt took a sharp breath and clutched his chest: This must be the compensation from the world consciousness for Drake's constant lack of sleep and wasted gifts from the Dream God!
Colt poked the round Red Robin monitor, poking it until it was pointed at the ceiling.
Money's aura is truly powerful; the Patron is already cooler than Red Robin in my heart!
[My pen can write the answers by itself: OK.]
Colt buried his head in his work, choosing to write by hand instead of using a computer for translation.
He liked the feeling of holding a pen; as long as he held a pen in his hand, he felt as confident as if he were holding the whole world.
Chapter 21
Wayne Manor.
Tim leaned against the coffee machine, smiling at the computer screen held in his hands.
Damian sat on the sofa fixing his hair, casting several glances at Tim, before finally unable to resist launching a personal attack.
Stupid Drake, your laugh is disgusting.
Tim closed the laptop and replied in the calm, gentle tone that Damian hated most, "You're still young; you don't understand how wonderful the adult world is."
Damian exploded.
Tim asked leisurely, "I remember you had plans to go to the Zoo with Little Jo today, five dollars is only enough to buy two ice creams. Do you need a little sponsorship from your brother?"
Damian slowly sat down, as if his sudden outburst just now had been to straighten his clothes.
He raised his head with reserve, looking at him with a tilt of his chin. "Tim, if you insist on giving it, I will grudgingly accept your tribute."
Tim pulled several hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and lightly slapped them toward Damian. "Have fun. Don't carry any Kryptonite blade when you go out, try not to kill anyone."
Damian tucked the money away and gave a huff.
Timothy picked up his full cup of coffee. "Go on, I'll look after your fiancée."
Damian froze for a moment.
Tim held a laptop in one hand and a coffee in the other, running faster than a rabbit, leaving only his voice behind: "Margaret Rose, you proposed to her last night. She was quite a beautiful lady. Don't worry, I recorded your proposal for keeps."
Damian drew his knife.
“I'm going to kill you!”
Alfred appeared behind Damian. "Master Damian, if you don't leave now, we will miss our appointment with Master Jonathan."
Timmy entered the Batcave safely and even managed to sneak a cup of coffee right under Alfred's nose, humming a tune in delight.
Hey, Timmy, what good thing happened to make you so happy?
Dick rode his motorcycle into the Batcave in broad daylight and gave Tim a warm brotherly hug.
Timothy raised his coffee, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, answered slowly, "Probably a demon.. ahem, Damian finally has a marriage partner."
What?!" Dick was shocked. "Where is Little D?
Timothy answered obediently, "Alfred sent him on a date."
Dick screamed, "Alfred actually took him on a date? Meeting the parents already?!"
Timothy cleared his throat. "They just left; you should be able to catch up to them if you leave now."
Dick drove away in a hurry.
Timmy breathed a sigh of relief.
He wasn't lying; Damian did propose last night, even if it was to a potted plant under the influence of Poison Ivy's pollen.
Alfred was going to Chinatown to pick up some groceries, while he was at it, he would drop Damian off at the Zoo for his date with Little Jo, even though Damian and Little Jo were only visiting the Zoo to do an observation assignment.
If Dick misunderstood, it was because he wasn't thinking straight.
Timothy sat in front of the Batcomputer, took a leisurely sip of coffee, began working on Red Robin's tasks.
Bruce went to the company for a meeting, since Stephanie and Cassandra wouldn't wake up this early, the entire Batcave was his alone all morning.
Ah, peace and quiet is so wonderful!
This coffee would be even better if it were served in a different cup!
Colt spent the entire Saturday translating love letters.
The Patron is likely a STEM man; the love letters are filled with things like wild roses blooming at one's fingertips, violets under the moonlight, the twelve different shades of light refracted by gemstones.. They look like they were written by an AI—devoid of emotion, consisting entirely of long, flashy sentences meant to show off.
Colt's job was to translate them into emotion.
To be honest, love letters are harder to translate than academic papers; they focus on the artistic conception and the expression of emotion, rather than scrutinizing the correctness of every single word and phrase.
However, as long as the artistic conception is right, even if a hundred words are condensed into three sentences, it's still acceptable.
After all, in some niche languages, the entire vocabulary consists of only a few hundred words.
When I look at the moon, the moonlight is the stars in your eyes; when I look at roses, the petals are your soft lips; when I look at gems, the radiance is your brilliant soul.
【You are in my heart; from now on, the moonlight is you, the rose is you, the gem is you. 】
[Rose is my love, the gem is my treasure. Come, my dear, hold the rose, bring the gem, let us embrace under the moonlight.]