The Empire State Building

I am Spider-Man, the superhero of New York City.

I'm the friendly neighborhood hero, a role model for primary and secondary school students worldwide. I help people, love busting thieves and muggers, and especially enjoy helping old ladies cross the street—never been scammed once.

A while back, I joined my school's academic exchange group and headed to neighboring Pennsylvania. Then something big went down in New York. The Daily Bugle went berserk trashing me, calling me a coward who fled the fight—totally innocent, by the way.

The Daily Bugle's boss is a complete cheapskate, docks my pay, and still slams me nonstop—me, the friendly neighborhood hero everyone in New York knows and loves, Spider-Man.

I love standing atop the Empire State Building, gazing over the whole city. This place is deserted, with a biting wind—I think God set it aside just for me to ponder life.

A beautiful, pure, peaceful sanctuary.

Until I met that bastard—a despicable, arrogant, utterly rude jerk who ruined it all. I've never seen anyone so shameless.

He told me I was still too young.

"Hot, hot, hot!"

Spider-Man, clutching a freshly bought hot dog, quickly climbed to the top of the Empire State Building. He loved this spot. Every time he went out as Spider-Man—excited, down, or lost—he'd come here, quietly gaze into the distance, and his mind would miraculously calm. It was his sanctuary, rarely visited, and he liked keeping good things in places that lifted his spirits.

Like this hot dog.

The shop next to the Daily Bugle sold the tastiest hot dogs in all of New York—the most affordable prices, the best service.

"Hot, hot, hot!"

Tossing the hot dog from left hand to right, then back again, Spider-Man went through his daily ritual, never tiring of it.

Then he suddenly noticed someone else on the other side of the ledge and was startled. Aside from occasional school or staff-organized tours or cleaning, this was the first time he'd seen a lone person up here.

He scratched his head and slowly edged over, figuring he should say hi, share insights on the loneliness of heights, and show off friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's goodwill.

But what he saw shattered him.

There stood a guy on the edge of the New York skyscraper's top platform, arrogantly unbuckling his belt and relieving himself downward.

The stream was firm and unyielding, charging forward with unstoppable momentum, arcing in a beautiful curve before plummeting four hundred meters to the ground.

Spider-Man lost it.

Sanctity, purity, beauty—all bullshit. In that moment, they went straight to hell.

If the world had a color, it was gray.

Spider-Man was furious, nearly blinded by rage. He even thought about kicking the guy off to preserve this pure land's honor.

"You, you, you... how dare you!" Spider-Man stammered, barely able to speak.

Donnie turned indifferently, saw a red-clad weirdo in a skintight suit, and instantly recognized who it was. He understood.

His tense body relaxed. He'd thought the hidden watchers had been lured out to ambush him.

"This is the Empire State Building—the famous New York Empire State Building, a world-renowned symbol of New York City! How dare you..." Spider-Man pointed a trembling finger at him, the despair of a shattered dream.

"I know this is the Empire State Building."

Donnie's face was blank as he looked the weirdo up and down, focusing on Spider-Man's lean frame. Finally, as if struck by a revelation, he smirked arrogantly, showing contempt: "What are you looking at? Never seen one this big before?"

Spider-Man froze, on the verge of losing his mind, his worldview collapsing.

"You, you, you... utterly shameless! Didn't anyone teach you not to..."

"Not to what?" Donnie said. "Who says you can't take a leak at the Empire State Building?"

"But no one's ever done that before! No one's ever been this shameless..."

Donnie sneered. "Because they don't have what I've got, too embarrassed to show it."

Spider-Man swayed, nearly fainting from the blow of a shattered myth. He couldn't believe his sanctuary had been defiled like this, and worst of all, the desecrator acted like it was perfectly natural.

The stream, carried by the wind, scattered all the way to the ground, startling some pedestrians. A few looked up, cursing—the weather forecast had promised a clear day, so why was it raining?

"Damn it, blame Ross." The pedestrians grumbled, rushing home for umbrellas.

At that moment, Ross was huddled in a holding cell, shivering.

Donnie adjusted his clothes, squinting into the distance. They said that from the top of the Empire State Building, you could see five other states.

As a New York City icon alongside the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building towered over everything, offering a commanding view—a grand design that truly had its merits, lifting the spirit and making you feel the world was in your grasp.

Spider-Man had calmed down, realizing this guy was no ordinary person.

How had he gotten up here? The door to the rooftop was clearly locked tight—just a glance back would confirm it.

"Buddy, how'd you get up here? It's so high, and you're so short—I mean compared to this building, you're tiny, just a little guy... even if you're over six feet, still a little guy..." Spider-Man hopped over, curious.

"How'd you get up?"

"I climbed up."

"What a coincidence. I climbed up too."

Donnie told him seriously that this building was very, very tall. He could take the elevator to the upper floors because he had a high-level access card. Then he'd crawled through a vent to the outside and scaled the wall a bit to get up here.

Spider-Man's response was "Bullshit." Was the Empire State Building your family's property? And how the hell did you climb the wall? Did a spider bite you too, giving you wall-crawling powers?

Pure nonsense. This guy was definitely no good.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but it's just too unbelievable. If your talent for lying were half as thick as your face, you'd sweep the globe... fine, I don't believe you." Spider-Man rambled on, firing off a barrage of doubts at Donnie, hoping for an explanation—otherwise, he'd knock him out and haul him to the cops.

"Can you still get down?" Donnie suddenly asked.

Spider-Man was a bit stunned and answered instinctively, "Of course I can, it's easy. I climbed up, so I can jump down. Hey, you still haven't told me the truth. You're way too rude."

"Then carry me down. I'm tired." Donnie waved a hand grandly, utterly unapologetic. "You're the friendly neighbor. You've gotta help me out."

Spider-Man groaned, completely drained of the will to retort, even losing the energy to throw a punch. How could there be someone so shameless in this world?

Not far from the Empire State Building, a small drone flew boldly, taking in the entire scene.

Donnie had spotted it early on. At first, he thought it was a probe sent by some organization or agency to test his strength, gather intel, and try to capture or kill him in one fell swoop.

But he realized he was wrong. This drone was tailing Spider-Man. Wherever the little spider went, the drone followed, blatant and unashamed.

In the distance, at the Daily Bugle headquarters, the paper's boss, James, stared at the transmitted footage with gleaming eyes, exhilarated, bursting into loud laughter.

Though the footage was silent, his mind had already filled in the entire conversation—a basic skill for any media man.

Spider-Man, you scumbag! I've finally got a big handle on you!

"Parker! Parker! Peter Parker! I've got an urgent task for you... Where is he? Is that bastard slacking off again? I'm docking his pay!" James shouted.

With a flurry of orders swiftly issued, the hot-tempered, no-nonsense boss James summoned a crowd of people, gave commands, and even rarely wrote the article himself. The headline was already ready.

"Spider-Man's Shocker! The Man Who Pees Three Feet Against the Wind!"