On the television, parents complained about their children dyeing their hair, getting tattoos, skipping school, making bad friends, staying out all night..
"Hi, Robin Bird, you're a male bird, Colt isn't a baby bird." Red Robin picked up a small slice of apple and brought it to Birdie's beak.
Birdie turned around to present his backside to Red Robin, then faced Colt's corn.
The bird's butt seemed to be somewhat insufficient.
Birdie hopped angrily, turning the volume up to the maximum.
The elderly parents on the television held their heads and wept bitterly, thinking that if their child dared to stay out all night today, they would dare to run away from home tomorrow, they had no idea when the child would return with a large belly.
Colt suspected Birdie was using the television to curse him!
If he doesn't eat, it's because he's not hungry!
Colt put down his spoon, turned the TV volume to a normal level, switched it to Birdie's favorite horror movie.
Birdie turned his butt toward the TV in protest.
Colt turned off the TV directly and went to the kitchen to pan-fry the steak, which had been marinating for two hours and was intended to be a late-night snack.
Red Robin happened to have missed dinner at home, so he ordered without any hesitation: "I like mine well-done; if it's too tender, it feels like I'm eating raw meat."
Colt also liked his cooked a bit more, about medium-well; in any case, there shouldn't be any blood when he cut into it.
Red Robin leaned against the refrigerator with a cup of coffee and suddenly asked, "Is a Robin Bird really a bird?"
If it's not a bird, then what is it?
Colt looked back; with no one watching, the bird stopped making a fuss and quietly hopped onto the remote, turning on the television itself.
"He's just like your mother," Red Robin said.
Colt nodded; sometimes birds really did like to boss him around.
"Was the Robin Bird bought from a pet shop?" Red Robin finished a cup of coffee and wanted to go for a refill.
Colt stopped him, exchanging a steak for the coffee cup.
He had tested it; the coffee produced in the Dream Station had miraculous properties. One cup could maintain absolute wakefulness for six to eight hours, whereas the iced version did not have this effect. Colt had never tried drinking two cups in a row, nor would he recommend Red Robin do the same. If the effects of wakefulness were to stack, would he not be staying awake all night again?
Colt took a can of Wayne brand juice from the refrigerator, twisted it open, placed it in front of Red Robin. He sat down on the other side of the dining table and began eating his remaining small portion of steak and broccoli.
Red Robin took a sip of the blueberry juice; the advertisement claimed it was good for the eyes, but in reality, the effect was practically zero. He looked at Colt, who was frowning while eating broccoli, thought of the past.
When Colt was very young, he was extremely strict with himself and those around him, such as not wasting food and ensuring a balanced diet. This almost obsessive habit was like something etched into his soul, brought from his previous life.
Red Robin took another sip of the blueberry juice. As the chill faded, a faint astringency spread from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat, his entire mouth was enveloped in a cloying sweetness.
He used to think this kind of high-tech juice was too sweet, but now he found it quite alright, much more acceptable than the unsweetened fresh blueberry juice Alfred used to make.
The Robin Bird was my third-grade nature study assignment; there was a clutch of five eggs, only he successfully hatched." Colt looked at Timothy, still chewing on broccoli, his voice flowing from the speaker: "He hatched on the evening of the second day after the Joker returned to Arkham, on the day the rain that had persisted in Gotham for half a month finally stopped.
This was a probe.
Colt's eyes were too clear; one could see right through his thoughts at a single glance.
Red Robin lowered his head to avoid Colt's gaze, responding with silence.
The day after Joker returned to Arkham was also the day the deceased were collectively buried. He was still in the hospital and remembered nothing. It was only later, when watching the news, that he learned dozens of people had died at that time, with the names of the deceased filling an entire page of the newspaper.
His mother said it was all because he loved running around and was too trusting of others, which caused him to trip and fall off the stage during the Easter celebration. Jack decided to send him to boarding school and hired a new butler for him.
The new school and the new butler both made him feel very unsettled; he always felt that everything around him was too quiet, as if he had forgotten something. He tried to contact his former classmates, but he couldn't find that sense of familiarity. It wasn't until he picked up his camera again to chase after Batman and Red Robin that he finally began to move forward.
Timothy didn't know what to say.
Colt's memories are returning? He also remembers that incubating the little bird was actually part of their group observation assignment?
..
Ring, ring!
The bell suddenly rang.
Colt jumped up and tossed the tray into the sink.
Sorry, I have to go to class!
Tony's class absolutely could not be missed, because Tony was very skilled at cursing without using profanity, Colt did not want to be a paramecium who couldn't tell time.
Colt rushed to the study to grab his notebook, intending to head straight to the basement, but he poked his head back out to tell Red Robin, "Anywhere else is fine, except for the basement."
Red Robin raised his hand to make an OK sign.
He didn't know how to spell the word "politeness."
As soon as Colt left, Red Robin finished his dinner in a few bites, quickly rinsed the plates in the sink, put them in the dishwasher, then wandered around the house with his post-dinner coffee.
"Want more?" Red Robin brought a sunflower seed kernel to Birdie's mouth.
The bird tilted its head and gave him a look, then, showing no respect, changed its position to continue watching television.
Red Robin gave a dry chuckle, picked up Birdie's specialized feeding tray, poured it directly for the wild birds outside the window.
Birdie stretched its neck in disbelief. Seeing Red Robin preparing to close the window, it hurriedly chirped and fluttered out, spreading its wings to protect the feeder from other birds and prevent them from approaching, before burying its head to peck rapidly.
Not eat?
See, he's eating now!
Red Robin has plenty of experience with this; every time he dawdles while eating, Alfred finds that reminders are useless and will simply carry his tray away, prompting him to chase after him to the kitchen to fill his stomach.
Colt was unaware of the clash between the two Red Robins upstairs; he had to focus all his attention on Tony's class, both watching and listening, just to keep up with the pace.
Tony is a genius, but he is sharp-tongued and lacks patience; being his student requires not only the ability to learn through inference but also a strong capacity to endure.
Colt's learning ability and resilience were just good enough, he would even use "Batman is smarter" to hype up Iron Man whenever Tony was bored. The reason he hadn't been kicked out of Tony's tutelage yet was because he had saved Edwin, which made Tony exceptionally lenient toward him.
Tony's sense of time was terrible; a one-hour online class dragged on for two and a half hours. Carrying a mountain of homework that encroached upon his rest, Colt dragged his exhausted body back upstairs.
Red Robin was already gone.
Birdie finished his dinner without watching television, chirping at Colt with a grievance, his cries mournful.
Six-thirty in the morning.
Birdie woke up right on time, chirping and bouncing on Colt's head.
Colt closed his eyes and helped Birdie take off her diaper: "Go play, let me sleep for another half hour."
He had been working with Vibranium until the early hours of the morning, so he still hadn't had enough sleep.
Birdie nipped at his hair, then crawled through the active bird door to leave the room, chasing away the little birds that had gathered under the eaves to shelter from the rain, leaving a lively, noisy chirping in the early morning.
Colt rolled over, glancing habitually at the Dream Station, the shimmering treasure chests woke him up instantly.
He took out his hearing aid and put it on, then checked Tim's sleep records from yesterday: 1:50 to 5:58, four hours of deep sleep—barely enough to meet his survival needs.
Colt flipped over and jumped up. After washing up, he pressed his hands together to pray to the god of luck before finally opening the blind box.
Awesome, this time it's not coffee, but a Polaroid photo!
Two little boys, both around three years old, were wearing similar hoodies and shorts, with animal ear headbands on their heads and bat-shaped balloons tied to their wrists. They smiled at the camera while holding up bat-shaped ice cream pops, with an archway and a towering Ferris wheel in the background.
Chapter 30
Colt brought the photo back to the real world.
The little boy with black hair and blue eyes had black cat ears atop his head, he pursed his lips in a reserved smile; the little boy with silver hair wore white dog ears, his smile was radiant, his violet eyes curved with joy.
What one thinks about during the day manifests in one's dreams at night.
Because he mentioned last night that the Robin Bird was a third-grade nature observation assignment, did Timothy dream about his childhood?
Is this a photo of him and me?
Colt stroked the face in the photo.
Did I look like this when I was little?
Colt never had any photos; everything in the files was AI-generated. All traces of his life before he became Ghost had been erased by an unknown entity. Since becoming Ghost, he had only seen his own reflection in Joseph's eyes.
He didn't care what he looked like; Joseph said he looked like his mother, since his mother was a great beauty, he must be very handsome as well.
He was also very cute when he was little.
Timothy wasn't as gloomy and introverted when he was little as he was in the dream; he was small and very cute.
A honking sound came from downstairs.
A low-profile black car pulled up to the main gate, the window rolling down to reveal Tim's smiling face.
The ornithologist's appointment was at ten o'clock, but it wasn't even seven yet. The sun had just risen, the streetlights at the entrance had not yet turned off.
That doesn't matter.
How wonderful it is to run into someone exactly when you want to see them.
Colt remotely opened the gate, tucked the photo into a book, quickly washed up, found a T-shirt and trousers from a wardrobe packed with various lab coats to change into, only then headed downstairs.
Tim wore a blue shirt today; he wiped the water off his leather shoes at the door and placed his umbrella in the stand. He lifted the massive bag in his hands and gave Colt a small, smiling nod.
I brought breakfast.
Besides the still-warm ham and cheese pizza and omelets, there was also vegetable salad, dessert, fruit, as well as fresh snow steaks, marinated chicken, even caviar, truffles, half a bottle of sauce.
Colt held the half-bottle of sauce, suspecting that Timothy had stuffed the entire Wayne family refrigerator into the bag.
The sauce Alfred made is fantastic," Tim said, skillfully brewing himself some coffee. "I think you should try it.
It was indeed delicious.
Colt rubbed his stomach, which was stuffed from eating, since it was still early, he invited Timothy to the study to do homework. He had to complete a short quiz on world history and write a 400-word letter to Li Hua in Chinese.
Timothy had five assignments; for history, he just copied Colt's answers.
Colt finished his own homework and then helped Timothy with his assignment to 'write a Gotham story in French'; Timothy only needed to read the recording once and upload it.
French is a very romantic language, with complex and exquisite pronunciation and rich, varied intonations. Its soft retroflex sounds and melodious long vowels give it a gentle and romantic beauty.
Timothy was like a bard, making even the "Legends of the Court of Owls" sound anything but terrifying.