127 Lincoln March: Please keep me on your heart like a seal

"Is this your confession?" asked the farmer.

Without waiting for Night Owl to answer, she said, "Then I'll come too."

Now Night Owl was indeed surprised. He looked at the farmer with his hands crossed and placed in front of his forehead - even now, when he was lying down, he looked like he was really in a confessional.

Confession, of course, Gotham churches have confessionals. But priests and religion are merely tools for making money and concealing crimes. If there really is a God, He would not bend down to listen to the confessions of these sinners.

But perhaps, Night Owl thought, He would make an exception for the only righteous man in Sodom.

"I did try to save you," Aria said. "Among the Syndicate, it was obvious that you were worried, so at first, I wanted to do something for you."

Before the Syndicate revealed their true nature of enjoying crime and destruction, the farmer thought she had joined an international peacekeeping justice organization. She had inquired about their preferences, carefully prepared gifts, and tried to become friends with them.

Consequently, the farmer was also quite interested in Night Owl, who recruited him into the syndicate.

One thought it was just an ordinary employment relationship, while the other thought it was the beginning of a friendship. This is often how misunderstandings between people begin.

However, Night Owl rejected her kindness.

"That's not necessary," he said.

At that time, Night Owl was standing on the Gotham Grand Theater. A shooting had just occurred not far from the theater. The red and blue lights of the police lights continued to flash, creating a psychedelic reflection on the ground of Gotham after the rain.

This city is worse than the farmer thought. Strangely, the Night Owl, who should be angry about this, is unexpectedly calm at this moment.

The farmer was puzzled, and when she tried to understand... she found that she still couldn't understand.

Aria could never understand why there was such deep malice between people, and why so many despairing events could gather in one world.

But there was only one thing that was certain—that was, Night Owl and she lived in two completely opposite worlds. She'd better not give him any gifts anymore, because exquisitely wrapped gifts would only remind Night Owl of the Christmas Eve when his adopted son was dismembered and the different parts were wrapped as gifts for him.

"I don't know what you've been through, but I just want to make you happy... I think I owe you an apology for my arrogance."

The countdown to death continued, ticking. It was a strange feeling. Everyone was equal in the face of death, and yet they were standing before the most equal scales. One had committed countless crimes, while the other—the other, the most flawless in the eyes of the former—was the first to apologize.

This wasn't what Night Owl wanted to hear, or perhaps it was because he had never considered asking the farmer to apologize in the first place. He already owed and owed too many apologies, and Aria's apology was like sand mixed into the shellfish. It couldn't be expelled, couldn't be dissolved, and could only be wrapped layer by layer with blood and flesh.

Perhaps the shell was already exhausted before it became a pearl.

"You don't owe me anything, you don't owe anyone anything." Night Owl glanced at the countdown, stretched out his hand to Aria, and gave her a choice: "Three minutes left. If this is your last words, I will consider letting Batman know..."

"Stay away from her!"

Lincoln March was actually teleported here with Batman. Seeing how nervous he looked, someone who didn't know him would think he was some vicious criminal.

Farmer: ...isn't it?

But her confession with him was not yet complete.

Lincoln March was running towards her, Batman was trying to solve the machine, and in such chaos, Aria lowered her voice: "I used to think that love could heal everything. As long as you are patient enough, you can eventually overcome everything."

"……ha."

“I still think so.”

"I believe Martha loves you, and Thomas loves you too. Even though you're now at the point of a life-and-death feud, I still believe that in the future there may be many people who can breathe and heartbeat in unison with you."

"It seems that I'm actually quite selfish." Aria blinked at him apologetically. "For even the slightest possibility, I hope you can survive. I hope this world can live until the day you find happiness."

"You..." Night Owl had a bad feeling.

"I'm sorry, Thomas."

Her apology was quite sincere, but her hands moved swiftly. The farmer put on a magnetic ring, took out a pickaxe, and mercilessly hit the explosive device placed by Night Owl.

The device, which was powerful enough to blow up a universe, bounced on the ground like a flexible ball, and then, guided by an irresistible force, flew straight towards the farmer's backpack.

Night Owl: ...

Batman is trying to crack the code: ...

Lincoln March: "Aria!"

…

Lincoln March hugged her, his breathing trembling.

He thought of many possibilities at that moment. Perhaps it would be nice for them to die together when the universe was destroyed... right?

...But was it really like this? Was he really willing for their story to end like this?

Lincoln March, Thomas Wayne Jr., if all the identities assigned by society were shattered, what would he really want?

The court asked him to imitate Bruce Wayne in every way, and he himself always believed that Wayne was a goal that must be surpassed and a mountain that must be climbed.

But what does he really want?

Don’t be forgotten! Don’t go back to the Liulin Children’s Rescue Center and die quietly on your hospital bed!

He wanted to be watched forever, remembered forever, and even... loved.

"You want my love?"

The farmer stood in front of him, even though she was only wearing a white T-shirt and flowered shorts with suspicious dark red blood on them, she was still as dazzling as the sun in his eyes.

The clumsy Icarus made a pair of wings for himself, but eventually he flew too close to the sun and his wings melted, causing him to fall to his death.

But he is different from him. She is the moon and the sun. She is brighter and more compassionate.

—As long as Lincoln March cries for help, the sun will pick him up.

It is said that only when a person's pupils dilate at the moment of death can they see through the sun's halo and see their true self*. So he stretched out his hand to her and pleaded like a drowning man trying to survive: "Yes, yes."

His love is destructive and exclusive. Anyone who gets even a little bit of it will be burned. He only loves the sun, and he is only willing to work for the sun...

"Aria." Lincoln March knew she had many, many names, and even her soul was vaster than he could imagine.

But this was the only chance he had in his life to make a wish to the sun.

"Aria," he felt her dry and warm palm, his heart pounding, "Please, let me stay by your side forever, okay?"

His sun smiled, slightly folded his fingers, and clasped his face.

"OK."

"Now I know that I should love you the way you like."

…

Lincoln March did not return to Arkham Asylum, which was quite incredible in the eyes of the Arkham guards.

After all, there are people coming in and out here, but as for those who are cured - there are really not many.

Two-Face was barely discharged from the hospital after plastic surgery, but in the end he was sent back because of disfigurement?

"Is his brain finally cured?" the guard asked his colleague during dinner. He still remembered how he was when he first came in - walking around in the solitary cell at night, sneering from time to time, muttering words like "Gotham" and "court" - privately these guards collectively referred to these symptoms as Batman syndrome.

"Maybe." Another guard stuffed a piece of buttered bread into his mouth. "Anyway, I haven't seen him anywhere in Gotham anymore."

"Maybe he died in some corner." They randomly arranged an ending for him and soon started discussing new content.

"Do you know about the new vigilante in Gotham?... I feel like she looks like the one that followed Batman last time..."

…

The farmer took great pains to catch a crimson fish today. Even though her backpack was not full at all, she chose to carry it all the way home.

This led to Aria being stopped by a patrol police officer while she was walking on the street - for the new patrol officer, it was too much not to stop and ask questions when seeing someone holding a large fish on the street.

The farmer is now very familiar with the GCPD. Apart from the initial misunderstanding that landed her in the police station, she has cooperated with this group of people several times, and both sides have gradually eliminated some negative impressions.

It also reinforces some stereotypes.

"Here." Montoya waved away the subordinates who wanted to take photos with the farmer while fishing, tossed her a can of instant coffee, and easily won Aria's starry eyes: "Thank you!"

This guy doesn't look like a vigilante at all, but more like a kind-hearted fishing enthusiast. My colleagues complained that several times when they arrived after receiving a call, they saw the criminal fainted on the side while the farmer was still fighting with an unknown fish underwater.

Even though he knew she had extraordinary abilities, Montoya couldn't help but remind her as he watched her sipping instant coffee earnestly: "You were involved in that case at the Court of Owls, weren't you?"

She wasn't in Gotham at the time, but it was easy to piece together the whole story from the accounts of other colleagues.

Sure enough, the farmer nodded and looked at her with an inexplicably cute expression: "Yes, what's the matter?"

"Lincoln March hasn't been apprehended." Montoya took out a cigarette, sniffed it, and didn't smoke. "I'm worried he's still holding a grudge and waiting for revenge. During this time, you..."

"puff--"

Aria spat out her unfinished coffee and stood up in a panic. "Sorry! It suddenly occurred to me that I haven't started watching the Sauce Queen show yet. I have to go home..."

"Thank you for your coffee and concern. I'll bring you a small gift next time we meet!"

Then the farmer ran off like his butt was on fire.

Such an action was very suspicious to the members of the serious crime team, but no matter how hard he thought, Montoya probably couldn't have guessed -

——It was not Lincoln March who was hiding in the dark and waiting for an opportunity to take revenge on Aria, but the farmer who did something to him.

…

Aria returned to the farm as the sun was setting.

She chose a dessert shop from the Gotham must-eat list... It was hard to imagine that someone like him would reveal a faint smile from the heart when facing dessert.

The farmer recently likes to observe Lincoln March's reaction by giving him different things. Giving him flowers will get a bigger smile, but giving him warm eggs freshly taken from the chicken coop will make Lincoln March avoid them awkwardly, as if he can see a tangled mass of threads coming out of his head.

And kisses, kisses are Lincoln March's favorite and most precious thing - because according to the tradition of Stardew Valley, kissing is generally only allowed after marriage.

Aria thought so as she pushed the door open.

"I come back--"

Before her words had even completely fallen on the floor of this house, someone in the house couldn't wait to kiss her.

Unlike the kisses the farmer knew, which were quick and fleeting, Lincoln March's kiss was violent and possessive. He did his best to tease and seduce her, and now, before the night even fell, Lincoln March had already invited her to fall into the night together.

Unfortunately, the farmer was determined. After the kiss, she placed her paws on his deliberately exposed chest muscles and gently pushed him away.

"You haven't tried this yet," Aria said. "The line is super long. It's said to be one of Gotham's favorite dessert shops."

Lincoln March said nothing, but he took the box honestly and fed her a piece.

The farmer looked at the bright energy +30 with a puzzled expression.

"But there are no tasks tonight," she said. "It would be a waste to add this, right?"

"No," Lincoln looked down at her and reached out to wipe the cream off the corner of her mouth - in fact, he could have done it another way, but the farmer would have punched him hard while yelling "pervert".

Lincoln March was not afraid of being beaten, but if this action would affect the subsequent..., he'd better endure it for the time being.

Wiping off the cream, Lincoln March saw his own reflection in Aria's bright eyes with considerable satisfaction: "It's helpful, Aria."

He whispered in her ear, "This will be very useful."

The chains on Lincoln March gleamed in the warm, soft light of the room, almost as bright as the moon tonight.

…

"It's all your fault. My stamina bar is full again." Aria complained, "There's nothing I can do now. I can only do that..."

"Of course," the culprit always acted calmly: "Everything I have is yours, you can do whatever you want to me..."

The farmer dragged Lincoln March towards a direction that had haunted her dreams. "Let's go to the mine while it's still early!"

Lincoln March: ...

————————

*I forgot which book I saw this in, but I’ll mark it anyway

Please set me on your heart like a seal, wear me on your arm like a seal. For love is as strong as death, and jealousy is as cruel as the underworld.

After showing this chapter to a friend, he said: So the relationship between Aria and the Antimatter Universe Night Owl is similar to the original sin of Octopus?

Me: Hiss…

The biggest winner of this article: Lincoln March, recommended BGM: Da Lei's "Trash Magic"

Bat is like the headache that parents have when their children ask for a dog

The Lincoln March chapter is over. When I first wrote it, I said that this would have a little bit of black mud (eyes moved

Next Volume Bruce

It’s still the little angels who comment and then I post something pitiful.