Chaoying Psychotherapist [Zhongyingmei]

It has been a long time since Cynthia stayed at Wayne Manor.

She also hadn't seen Bruce for a long time.

That morning, Cynthia got out of bed, went downstairs, and saw Bruce sitting at the dining table while Alfred was serving breakfast for the two of them.

Bruce lowered his head to operate a tablet in his hand, frowning tightly, and didn't even have time to eat breakfast.

Seeing her coming down, Alfred was obviously very happy, and he didn't even know why he looked at her with an old and gratified look.

But he turned his head and saw Bruce's expression, shook his head again, sighed silently, bowed to Cynthia, and left silently.

The corners of Cynthia's mouth that were originally raised in a good mood were suppressed.

She frowned and asked, "What's wrong?"

Bruce puts down the tablet and looks back at her.For a moment, his expression was very complicated, but it soon became normal, and he even showed a slightly curved smile.

"Good morning."

He said, sitting motionless in a chair.

Cynthia glanced at him, walked over and gave him a fleeting hug.

"What are you upset about?" she asked, looking down into his cobalt blue eyes under the lashes, trying to tease, "My little bat didn't eat well, I saw it just now."

Bruce seemed to be trying to smile at her, but failed because there was no matching emotion.He lowered his eyes, pulled her dining chair away, and said flatly, "It's nothing. It's just about the clown."

Cynthia paused.

In her eyes, Bruce seemed to understand something, and it looked a little different.

It was Cynthia's strange talent at work again, and she could feel that Bruce's mentality was a little more dignified than yesterday.

What is he afraid of, or he suddenly worries about gains and losses.

And such a mood generally comes from the extreme cherishment of something and the pressure exerted by the outside world on it.

Cynthia looked at him calmly, and slowly sat down.

"What happened to him yesterday was in the newspaper? It's normal, don't worry." She comforted.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed again, as if they were about to tie a knot.He shook his head, the shadow of his eyelashes hit his lower eyelids, and he even looked a little fragile.

"No, more than that. He's still..."

He paused, and took a deep breath anxiously: "Cynthia, you have to stay in the theater these days, and all performances in the theater must also be suspended."

Cynthia was taken aback.

"Why?" she asked incomprehensibly.

Bruce said: "What you did yesterday attracted his attention, and now your situation is not optimistic. Don't go out recently, don't show your face, don't contact me, the FBI will send agents to the theater to protect you, it's best... "

"Wait a minute." Cynthia interrupted him, "What do you mean? The clown is here for you. If you want to say who is the most dangerous, isn't it you?"

"I can deal with him, but you can't." Bruce said in a deep voice.

Cynthia frowned disapprovingly.

"I'm not one to be protected, Bruce," she said. "The theater can't be closed for no reason, and I can deal with him, as I have with other troubles in the first half of my life."

"Not this time, there is no discussion." Bruce folded his arms stubbornly, like an old antique.

Cynthia stared at him for a while, then suddenly reached out and took the tablet over.

The screen displayed rows of data and a map marked with red dots. In the center, a news page stood out.

"The Next Victim?The Goddess Bravely Saved the Crowd Was Given an Ultimatum"

The clown has been obsessed with intimidation recently, and every time he leaves a picture of the next target at the scene of the crime, as if telling someone what his plan is.The most frightening thing is that no one can stop him, every time, he can achieve the previously set goals.

On the attached picture of the news webpage, there are "death notices" drawn by him one after another, and the one about Cynthia is the latest one.

It was a newspaper reporting the love affair between Cynthia and Bruce, with a small photo of Cynthia attached.The clown scribbled on the photo. Cynthia's mouth was painted blood red with oil paint, the corner of her mouth was cracked to the root of her ears, and her eyes were marked with two red crosses. It was funny and weird. At first glance, she looked like another clown.

Next to the photo, there was a line of small bloody characters written crookedly:

"I want her."

Cynthia raised her eyebrows and looked up at Bruce.

"I've seen worse," she said.

Bruce: "No."

Cynthia took a deep breath and tried to persuade: "What can you do to deal with him? Higher-end weapons? More powerful fists? Faster vehicles? But none of these are useful. The clown's methods are not physical. Bruce , all your methods are the methods of ordinary people, which will hurt you.

"I can handle him, you just let me see him. I grew up knowing the art of making someone do what I want, even if that person is a heinous murderer.

"Also, I have to meet him, I have to figure out his purpose and movements, the result of hiding away will only anger him, and then make things worse. He has written my name on the headline , If I do not speak up and cause more casualties, then I am guilty.”

"I don't care," Bruce said.

"Can……"

"No. Don't even think about it."

Even though Cynthia was quite patient, she was also annoyed by his reticent attitude.

"The person the clown threatens is me, not you. The person he wants is also me, not you." She pressed the table and frowned at him, "You don't need to take me to him, but why did you close my theater? Stop? Why disregard my wishes?"

"You can't ensure your own safety, and you won't have a chance to show your little tricks in front of clowns." Bruce said coldly, "Don't overestimate yourself, your reputation is worthless in front of life, because a small loss is worth a lot Very stupid thing."

Cynthia opened her eyes wide.

"A small loss? Stupid?" She looked at him in disbelief. "Why do I care so much about fame? Why do I work so hard? Why do I practice every day, don't drink alcohol, and play everywhere? Not everyone is as materialistic as you The conditions are inherently superior. I have my own pursuit, and you are calling me stupid now?"

Bruce paused for a moment, a look of guilt flashing in his eyes.

But in the next second, he still said coldly: "Compared with death, everything is a price you can pay."

"No, Bruce."

Cynthia shook her head and looked at him with heavy eyes: "I am not afraid of death, the one who is afraid is you."

"You don't take your own life seriously, but you are extremely afraid of the death of those close to you. You are so afraid that you will give up eating because of choking. This is your stubborn disease. It has been rooted deep in your heart since you were eight years old, and it has never healed."

Bruce stood up as if he had been stabbed by something.

"How dare you talk about it?!" He hissed angrily.

"I'm just telling you that your method is biased, you must change, otherwise your heart disease will get worse!" Cynthia was not to be outdone.

Bruce closed his eyes, as if he was restraining something, and seemed to have made a huge decision.

He spoke slowly and clearly:

"It's none of your business."

He said, looking at Cynthia coldly, folded his arms, showing resistance.

Cynthia was stunned.

She didn't even understand what he meant for a moment, and asked subconsciously, "What?"

So Bruce repeated it again.

He said, "It's none of your business, it's not your business to care about mine."

Cynthia opened her mouth, a thin layer of red appeared on her face.

She really wanted to ask "what do you mean", but she didn't want to hear him continue to analyze the meaning of the words in detail to her.

The white and slender fingers hung down by the side, trembling uncontrollably a few times.

"Do you remember what you said?"

she said almost out of breath.

"'Wherever I go, I long for your shadow; wherever I look, I want your favor. I have nothing but what I can give you.'  …If I understand you correctly, then you were You are inviting me into your world."

Bruce avoided her eyes.

After being silent for a while, he said in a low voice: "It's just a few casual love words, you misunderstood."

This made Cynthia feel as if she had been slapped in the face in public.

In an instant, she thought of thousands of harsh and hurtful answers, but in the end, she just pursed her pale lips and said with a last bit of hope:

"Bruce, I promise you. I really have the ability to change people's minds. I can handle him. Please, please trust me... as much as I trust you."

She had asked about it the night before, when they had huddled together by the fire, still intimate.

Bruce didn't answer then.

Now, she asked again.

This time, after a long silence, he finally put the belated answer in front of her.

He said, "No."

Cynthia did not agree to Bruce's request to close the theater, and also declined the protection of fbi agents.

How can the drama on stage continue with the detectives watching over it?

So, she stayed in her own theater for so many days, watching the crimes made by the clown get bigger and bigger, doing nothing and being powerless.

After all, Bruce can't kidnap her, it's against the law, and it's very noticeable.But what he can do is to cut off all contact between them, making Cynthia unilaterally in a state of disconnection.

Cynthia can only get a general idea of ​​the clown's movements by paying attention to the daily news reports.

His rivalry with the Gotham police and Batman has reached a fever pitch. In Gotham today, even during the daytime, there is a vague sense of danger.

Finally, one morning, Cynthia got up, turned on the TV, and the news that the clown had been arrested was the first thing she saw.

The news reporter reported that the Joker was defeated in the battle with Batman last night and was captured by the police who arrived later. He is currently being held in the police station and is going to be transferred to the Arkham Asylum the next day. .

In the TV, the clown sat with his hands crossed in the iron fence, his dark cracked eyes stared deeply at the camera, and a small arc was drawn at the corner of his cracked mouth.

Cynthia stood up abruptly from the sofa.

A creepy premonition gripped her heart.

She knows that this is not the end, Gotham has not escaped from the clutches of the clown, on the contrary, things may have gotten worse.

If you really sit and wait to die, everything will be meaningless.Her premonitions have always been accurate, as if she was blessed by the heavens, able to take her away from all dangers.

She decided to go see him.

Not for anything else, just for the clown playing card she received in the mailbox yesterday.

It said crookedly on it: "Surprise will come later."