Adoption Isn’t So Bad

What kind of building is this?

How to put it.

Lake looked at the obviously old and dilapidated building in front of him, and he would believe it if someone said it was about to collapse.

"Where is this?"

"The former Brooklyn mental hospital."

"…How come I didn’t know about this place before."

"Have you ever been out of Manhattan?"

"Do you mean for work or in general?"

"In general?"

"No."

"…"

The excitement of New York was all in Manhattan. Lake was too bored to go to areas outside Manhattan for fun. Whatever other places had, Manhattan had too, and Manhattan also had things other places didn’t.

And…

Frankly speaking, the quality of women in Manhattan was also NO.1.

So, Lake couldn’t understand why he would come to Manhattan.

George pointed at the abandoned mental hospital and said, "This mental hospital seemed to have had some accidents back then. After it closed down, it was abandoned for some reason. Later, it became a shelter for homeless vagrants or children who didn’t want to go to rescue centers."

Lake looked at George with disdain. "So, you’re saying you know there are a group of children growing up here, and you haven’t done anything."

George looked at Lake expressionlessly. "The problem here is the Children’s Services’ problem. What can we do? If something goes wrong during the cleanup, believe it or not, Children’s Services could sue the NYPD and bankrupt us."

Lake shrugged. "Alright."

That was the truth.

The thing Children’s Services hated most was law enforcement agencies interfering in their work, but ironically, much of Children’s Services’ work required cooperation from law enforcement agencies.

Even if the NYPD cleared this place, they could only call Children’s Services to handle the children. They were all minors, and the NYPD had no right to detain or hold them.

You know.

Here, as long as you are a minor, the NYPD cannot handcuff you. Without your parents or guardians present, even interrogating a minor is illegal.

A so-called children’s paradise?

That’s right.

But that was for children with families. For people like Skye, who didn’t want to go to foster homes or Children’s Services, just surviving was their goal.

Entering the abandoned building, the dimness inside instantly replaced the brightness just beyond the door, as if the inside and outside were two different worlds.

Rustle!

At the end of the first-floor corridor, a figure seemed to have seen Lake and George enter, stood up, and quickly walked into a room, then slammed the door shut with a bang.

It seemed…

The figure was worried that Lake and George were there to snatch a room.

Even here, there was a kind of social rule, such as the vagrants living in this building adhering to a simple rule.

First come, first served.

Of course.

If you were strong enough to beat up everyone before you got to the room, then you could become the new owner of the room after beating them up.

So this was a society where only the winner was qualified for the first come, first served rule.

George took off his sunglasses. "Is there a floor number written?"

Lake took out the note and glanced at it, then looked at George. "Under the sink in a restroom on the left side of the second-floor corridor."

Good heavens.

They’ve fallen so low that they don’t even have a room, why don’t they go to a rescue center?

Lake thought to himself.

In Lake’s eyes, although rescue centers were also chaotic, they were at least a place to stay.

Rescue centers wouldn’t forcibly turn away any minor. They wouldn’t kick you out until you were eighteen.

Going up to the second floor.

The wooden stairs under their feet creaked, and they seemed to be in a state of precariousness, making Lake have no doubt that if he put too much force on them, the stairs would crack open.

Second floor.

A few vagrants and a few homeless children, who were leaning against their doors in the corridor and talking lewdly, saw Lake and George and, like the people on the first floor, slammed their doors shut one after another.

Instantly.

The second-floor corridor was empty.

Lake and George glanced at each other, shook their heads, and followed Skye’s note, searching for the legendary restroom on the left side of the second-floor corridor.

But how?

All the doors were closed. How could they find the restroom?

Lake looked at George. "Have you been here before?"

George shook his head.

Alright.

Lake thought to himself, looking at a door to his left, he knocked.

"Get lost."

A gruff voice sounded from inside the room. "This room is occupied. Get out, or I’ll shoot."

Lake raised an eyebrow.

Bang!

He kicked the door open with force.

The door splintered inward, revealing the room’s owner, who had also been kicked inside. He was a scrawny African-American man, clearly a drug addict.

Lake tilted his head, a slight smile on his face. "Could you tell me where the restroom on the left side of this second-floor corridor is?"

Courtesy first.

If that didn’t work, Lake had no choice but to resort to force.

Courtesy before force.

Lake always stuck to that principle.

The black drug addict coughed. Hearing Lake’s words and seeing the Glock in Lake’s hand, he shakily pointed a finger towards the room next to him. "The second one."

Lake nodded. "Thanks."

He walked out.

George said to Lake, "They’re all pathetic."

Lake glanced at George. "Drug addicts are never worth pity."

Lake would show sympathy to those who went bankrupt due to the financial crisis.

But…

Pity drug addicts?

Heh.

What was there to pity about people like them?

Fortunately.

Lake’s foster parents had surprisingly consistent values on this matter. Both Thaddeus and Karen had educated Lake and Betty that these things were not to be messed with. Even the drugs that were popular on campus at the time were forbidden.

Every night, Karen would hold a special class, using pictures and PPTs to explain the consequences of drug use to Lake and Betty.

Betty was deeply depressed by it.

Lake, however, was not. He treated it as a rare relaxing activity after dinner, drinking cola and looking at the pictures, which he found quite enjoyable.

In the end, both Lake and Betty were sent to see a psychologist. One needed to check if their psychology was sound, while the other needed psychological counseling.

After leaving the drug addict’s room, Lake walked a few steps and pointed to another closed door, looking at George. "This is the one, right?"

George nodded. "Yes."

This time, Lake couldn’t be bothered to knock. It was useless; the people here had no manners.

He kicked the door open.

Bang!

"Ah!"

A man and a woman, both disheveled, let out a scream from inside. They had somehow managed to turn the restroom into a bedroom.

Didn’t they find the smell overpowering?

Lake walked in expressionlessly, went straight to the sink, and reached his right hand down, only to find nothing.

Where was it?

Lake stood up, his gaze falling on the dejected couple before him. He glanced at them, then pulled out his gun. "The thing you hid down there, hand it over in three seconds."

Another drug addict.

Good heavens.

This was truly too much freedom. He wondered why he hadn’t seen anyone using this stuff in Manhattan. All of Lake’s friends were firmly against it.

The disheveled woman tremblingly took out a blue backpack from behind her.

Lake took it, unzipped it, and took a look.

A few notebooks, a few folded papers, and a few clothes bundled together. Though old, they were clean and didn’t have any peculiar smell.

This backpack…

This was all Skye had possessed for thirteen years.

Lake glanced up at the man and woman.

Then he turned and left.

He wanted to compensate for the damaged door, but that would be compensating the director of this bankrupt mental hospital.

Inside New Amsterdam Hospital.

In the elevator.

Lake looked at the backpack in his hand, thought for a moment, and then said to George, "George, is what you said at the bar last time true?"

George looked at Lake. "What?"

Lake said, "I can adopt her?"

The environment of that mental hospital was too heartbreaking, and with so many poisonous insects, good heavens, it was a miracle that Skye wasn’t infected and ruined.

Lake then thought of himself.

It seemed…

Adoption wasn’t a big deal. Providing Skye with a comfortable and stable environment, clearing out a guest room, and then just adding an extra pair of chopsticks at meal times.

It didn’t seem that difficult.

Kindness needed to be passed on.

Lake recalled Karen mentioning something to him during their chat after he returned to Washington. He had previously mentioned adoption to Karen on the phone.

If Karen could adopt him, why couldn’t he adopt Skye?

George glanced at Lake and said, "Skye has no relatives. As long as Skye herself agrees and the city government signs off, you’ll be her guardian."

Ding!

The elevator doors opened.

Lake walked out of the elevator and said to George, "Do you know anyone in the city government? Can you help me contact them?"

George said, "Aren’t you going to ask Skye’s opinion?"

Lake thought of the scene where Skye absolutely refused to go for surgery that day, then smiled and looked at George, "She owes me money, she’ll definitely agree."

George: "…"

In the ward.

Skye wiped her mouth and thanked Martha, who brought the breakfast.

Lake walked in and greeted Martha, "Thank you, Martha."

Martha collected the bowls and spoons and looked at Lake, "If you know it’s troublesome, give my Jack a few days off."

Lake laughed heartily, "How about I give him a month of paid leave, so he can spend more time with you?"

Martha didn’t stand on ceremony. "Then thank you."

Martha had chatted with Lake these past few days. She was trying hard to have a third child, but unfortunately, Jack always used work as an excuse, claiming he was too busy.

Lake definitely wasn’t going to take the blame for this.

Jack’s action team was his exclusive squad. If he spent all day running around the hospital, and Jack told Martha he was busy, what kind of bad impression would that leave?

Soon.

Martha left the ward.

Lake immediately looked at Skye on the hospital bed, "After you’re discharged, how about coming home with me?"

Skye’s mouth fell open, and her expression was the same as when she had first woken up and looked at Lake as if he were a pervert: "…"