Christmas Eve was a long-awaited sunny day.

The sunlight in winter is not as hot as in summer. It is whitish and has a lazy feeling. But the faces of people on the street are full of joy. There are Christmas trees, Christmas wreaths and people dressed as Santa Claus taking photos with children on both sides of the road. These strong colors dilute the gloom of Gotham and make this city that has not seen the sun for many years have a long-lost sense of lightness.

The sound of a motorcycle engine came from the end of the road, and with a "click", the cover of the safety helmet was lifted up.

"Underage driving without a license," Dick said, crossing his arms on the sidewalk. "I'm going to report you."

"Whatever." Jason took off his helmet and threw it to him. "Anyway, violating traffic rules is the least of my crimes. You want to drive?"

Dick took the key from him: "Where is our destination today?"

"Let me see..." Jason took out the ToDoList that Tim had written for him. Several lines on it had been crossed out, and the latest line was at the bottom. "Ummm... Is he serious? Arkham?"

**

“Happy holidays!”

Tim jumped down holding the handrail of the stairs with one hand, holding the strap of his backpack with the other hand, and said hello to the servants and bodyguards in the house.

"You too. Going out?"

"Yes." Tim paused, "No need to tell my parents, it's a group activity in school."

"Where are you going?"

"Hospital or something... Anyway, I'll be back before dark. Bye!"

He quickly ran out of the house with his schoolbag, took off his coat in a blind spot where the camera could not see him, and put on the same mask as Nightwing on his face.

Although he was still trying hard to keep a straight face, the boy's steps involuntarily started to move up, from a quick walk to a childish jog.

How amazing.

He held his schoolbag and thought confusedly.

My friends and I are doing something that perhaps no one understands.

However, moving against the flow of people like this actually gave him a sense of belonging, happiness and satisfaction.

**

"Batman?" Arkham Dean Quincy Sharp's slightly plump face was full of resistance. "We don't accept interviews. Go away. This is not a place for minors."

Opposite him, Red Hood pulled a chair over arrogantly and sat down. Nightwing walked up to the dean and handed him a piece of paper.

"What is this..."

"You, Hugo Strange and the gang's transaction record." Nightwing looked down at him, "Be more honest during the next election."

The dean's pupils shrank as he looked at the detailed data that could never be obtained by legal means. Cold sweat oozed from his forehead. He said timidly, "I don't admit it! You are slandering me! Even if you sue me in court, there will be no result!"

"So this is just a friendly interview." Red Hood stood up and pushed the recorder over. "Say something nice and let us question a few employees. Otherwise, you'll have to prepare for a long lawsuit."

Dean Sharp's eyes swept across the slightly bulging area on his waist.

The alarm in the principal's office seemed to have been invalidated. He finally stopped and asked dryly, "Where should I start?"

After that, Nightwing turned to his companion and asked, "You still have a gun?"

"I don't have any." The young man next to him said slyly, "These are origami toys I just made with old cigarette boxes. If you want, I can make you a row of them. What's the matter with the alarm in the dean's office?"

"Signal jammer." Nightwing spread his hands, "I got it from the Batcave."

"You're done," Red Hood said pointedly.

Dick said firmly, "I can pack up and go back to Bludhaven overnight."

**

"What? You guys have already done it? I even left Arkham for last!" Tim's unbelievable voice came from the headset. Jason turned his head and muttered, "I knew it."

Nightwing: "Where are you Tim?"

"The orphanage," Tim said. "I had just finished sorting it out, but then I thought of the Wayne Group's charity project. Well, although it's a bit strange to ask this, how do you coordinate the conflicts between vigilantes and your true identities?"

Jason: "I'm not a vigilante—yet."

Dick: “I’m a newbie.”

"I shouldn't have asked." Tim sighed and continued, "Batman... maybe it's not a good thing to take responsibility too seriously. The identity of a vigilante is like using a fake identity on the Internet, but doing work that is more important than the real thing. The Internet can bring a sense of separation between people and normal real life. I don't know if you can understand."

"A person who is always immersed in the Internet will think that using virtual IDs to communicate online is the right way to live. When he leaves the familiar environment to socialize face to face, he will feel like he is wearing a mask."

"The vigilante is more complicated. In order to prevent people from linking the two identities together, they have to completely transform themselves into different or even opposite people. Some superheroes do justice when they put on the uniform, and after taking off the uniform, he or she can still enjoy a normal life."

"But Batman is the other way around... He's like someone who has his real life and online life reversed, and sees his night job as the right way to live, but his day job as a forced disguise behind a mask."

“…”

There was silence for a moment before Nightwing's voice rang out: "Why do you think so?"

"Weren't we serving as free navy soldiers for the Dark Knight the other day? At that time, the servants at home said that the tone of my conversation with them was different." Tim said, "After I apologized, I couldn't help but think more. Remember? I asked you about Bruce Wayne's attitude towards Batman. Batman is the real side he admits, but at the same time he may not like it, and he understands that most people may not like this truth."

After considering his next tone, the boy asked carefully, "Do you think that if someone else were in this situation, would they still remember what normal life is like?"

Humans are not machines. They have limited energy and cannot work around the clock.

But if a vigilante regards fighting criminals as a normal thing, and is so lonely that he can be called stubborn and entangled with the scum on the ground, when his true identity is put under the spotlight and analyzed, where can he rest and take a vacation?

"Isn't this our purpose?" Red Hood said impatiently, "Mango Tan interviews psychopaths, criminals, and ordinary people who are scared to death, not for self-satisfaction or to refute stupid newspapers. I just want to show him what normal people in this world are like."

"You're right." Nightwing said slowly and softly, "We protect this city because it is worth protecting."

Jason: "It's not 'we'. It's not me right now."

Tim couldn't help but smile. "I'm ready. The children in the orphanage are too enthusiastic, but the experience is good. They may consider volunteering here in the future. Everyone likes Bruce Wayne because the Wayne Group donated a large sum of money to the orphanage so that they can wear new clothes in winter. They also like Batman - several children took photos with me with Batman masks they drew themselves - because Batman can defeat all the bad guys who took their parents away."

"Who said that?"

"Who knows?"

Maybe the children think so spontaneously.

These innocent little creatures have not yet learned to deceive themselves and go along with the bad people.

Even Poison Ivy once said that living things yearn for light.

**

"Merry Christmas Bruce!"

When Dick pulled open the firework tube without warning at Wayne Manor, Moses was prepared and dodged to the side with agility that was inconsistent with his weight. Jason, who was fighting with the Australian beef veal beside him, was sprayed with streamers all over his head and face.

"Richard—"

"Ah." Alfred stood beside Moses with a smile, "I never thought that Wayne Manor would have such a lively day."

Moses agreed with his point of view.

It can only be said that teenagers seem to have engines installed in their bodies, and they rarely feel tired no matter how busy they are. Jason rang the doorbell of Wayne Manor at nearly eleven o'clock. Dick went to the door to greet him. The two children and the dog secretly carried a huge package that only a moving company would use, stuffed it into the corner under the Christmas tree, and then ran to the restaurant to eat.

Batman pretended not to see anything and the atmosphere was very harmonious.

Until, of course, Dick sprayed Jason with streamers in the face.

"No quarreling at the table." Seeing that the cake that Alfred had worked so hard to bake was about to become a tool of war, Moses had no choice but to bend his knuckles and knock on the table.

Then he looked at his family and said, "Merry Christmas."

Jason stood up.

"I, I remembered I left something behind, so I went to get it."

He finished his words with a rare stutter and left the restaurant without looking back. Dick immediately said, "Sorry, Bruce. Do you remember I told you yesterday that we had prepared a little surprise?"

Moses looked up and said, “I remember.”

The young man looked at his expression and suddenly frowned: "Don't tell me you know everything."

"……I have no idea."

"Really? I don't believe it."

They looked at each other in bewilderment, and the housekeeper had to vouch for his old father, whose credibility was negative: "The old man really hasn't investigated it."

"How is that possible?" Dick was shocked. "Aren't we his main focus? We can't be worse than the lunatics in Arkham?"

It’s not okay to pay attention, and it’s not okay not to pay attention. What do you want?

Moses put his fork down and said in a Batman voice, "That's a different matter."

The effect is outstanding.

Dick shut up and waited in the direction Jason left.

Moses gradually became curious and expectant—he had indeed investigated the children's whereabouts to ensure their safety, but other than that he knew nothing about their purpose or behavior.

Within a few days, the three young men ran across most of Gotan.

What kind of surprise requires checking in all over the city?

A few minutes later, Jason came back with the huge bag in his hand. He stepped away from the dining table, unzipped the bag, and dumped the contents out.

"Merry Christmas." His tone was as if he was saying, 'Next year's Christmas will be the anniversary of your death.'

But those green eyes didn't blink, as if a child was waiting for his parents to distribute gifts, even though he was the one who brought the gifts.

Moses stood up and walked over, and found piles of things, including greeting cards, newspapers, autographs, recorders, photos, videos, etc. On top was a photo of Tim and several children with gap teeth smiling brightly in the cold wind. One of them was wearing a silly bat mask, holding it against his face with his hands, and he didn't let go even though his fingertips were frozen red.

'Merry Christmas, Batman!'

Behind the photo are rows of crooked blessings.

The black-haired, blue-eyed young man seemed stunned for a moment, turned around to look at the two children for confirmation, then bent down, picked up a recorder and pressed the play button.

An excited female voice came from inside: "Merry Christmas, Batman! I love you, Batman! You are here for an interview, right? Can this be given to Batman? Maybe? Ahhh, then I must tell him that I want to have a child with him!!"

Moses:"……"

"Tim did this." Jason immediately passed the blame to a third person who was not present.

Dick signaled with his eyes: Is it really Tim?

Jason looked back straight in the face: Really.

There are some newspapers in the back, which Tim also collected. They are all articles supporting Batman or thanking him for his help. Some greeting cards are written in a very serious way. The person who wrote them seems to be very old. They are as formal as letters, expressing their gratitude to the vigilante who saved their children, saying that they can finally get some good sleep after the appearance of the bat light.

Flipping through them one by one, these greetings, some serious, some passionate and some funny, even though limited in number, cover people from all walks of life in Gotham, and even some are from Arkham employees.

One of the Arkham nurses drew a short comic of Batman beating up Chou. Her joy almost overflowed from her pen, making Moses feel that being a nurse was a waste of her talent.

He took his time, slowly sorting things out. The others waited behind him in silence.

Finally, the last greeting card was neatly stacked on top, and Batman looked back at them.

Christmas carols rang out, and the city welcomed another snowy night, but there was no disease, no ugliness, and no criminals who were still working diligently to improve their performance during the holidays - at least for the time being.

Then, under the warm light, the Gotan rider's shoulders relaxed a little, as if he had temporarily gotten rid of something heavy.

"Thank you," he said.