The Old Man and the Young Man

Today had been another exhausting day for Clark Kent.

Clark did not really like the city. He was not used to all its shrewd calculations and intrigue. Especially at the newspaper where he worked now—it was clearly a news agency, yet it never wanted to make a living reporting the truth. Instead, it constantly racked its brains over eye-catching headlines. Clark's internship had truly not been going very smoothly.

Coming home had always been what Clark wanted.

Maybe life ought to be simpler. Being a farmer's son and becoming a farmer himself one day would not be so bad.

But he had not come back today to return to the family. He had come as a "guest" who had been away from home for a long time, attending a long-prepared thank-you dinner.

Clark's father, Jonathan Kent, had told him about a new neighbor many days ago.

From Jonathan Kent's description, the man truly loved the land. He was good at dealing with crops and plants, though he was not very skilled with machinery. Still, he was eager to learn.

He was a wonderful young man.

The more Jonathan Kent praised him, the more curious Clark naturally became. That young man, who seemed to be about the same age as him, appeared to be going through a life trajectory much like Clark's: tired of the city, he had come to the countryside and chosen to follow his own wishes and become a farmer.

The difference was that the other man had succeeded, while Clark Kent still had to put up with being an intern reporter at a newspaper.

If Lois had not been at the newspaper, Clark really would not have wanted this job. Being a lumberjack or a sailor—those were the kinds of jobs Clark truly felt suited him.

After parking the car, Clark could not help but smile with happiness and contentment as he got out.

He knew how lucky he was.

Especially when he heard his father and mother laughing inside the house, Clark felt even more strongly that even if he hid all his powers and lived his whole life as an ordinary person, it would still mean heaven had favored him enough to grant him such a complete life.

"Ha..."

Letting out a soft breath, Clark took his bag, pressed his smile to the corner of his lips, and walked toward the home where he had lived for over twenty years. He pushed open the door he had opened countless times before.

Inside the house, Jonathan Kent looked at him from the dining table and stood up. He said to the two strangers at the table, who had also risen, "This is my son, Clark Kent."

Then he introduced the two guests to Clark. "These are my two good friends, Lynn and Alfred."

After handing his briefcase to his mother, Clark expertly took off his coat and hung it behind the door. He extended his hand as he walked toward the table. "Hello, I'm Clark Kent."

Jonathan Kent rarely drank, and even more rarely drank this much. Clark could tell that his father was genuinely happy today.

"Jonathan, you have such an excellent son, yet you just lied to me and said he lacked ambition. That is no way to speak to a good friend."

Alfred had also had quite a bit to drink. The more this old gentleman looked at Clark sitting at the table, the more pleasing he found him.

What a wonderful child—shy, honest, willing to work, obedient to his parents...

If he had raised such a child himself, what could he possibly be dissatisfied with?

"If only the one I raised could be as good as your son."

Alfred thought again of the difficult days he had spent raising Bruce Wayne.

Bruce had wanted to befriend criminals, and Alfred had not been able to stop him.

Bruce had wanted to travel the world, and Alfred had not been able to stop him either.

He smoked and drank, nearly emptying the Wayne Family wine cellar. Every day, he was either going out to fight people to the death or researching firearms and cold weapons. During the rare moments when he could pass for a normal person, he still insisted on playing the role of a spoiled rich second-generation heir, because Bruce believed he could not conceal his other identity otherwise.

Fine, he could keep up the cover, but changing girlfriends every five days? He could at least date someone seriously, find a decent woman, and get married. Or, failing that, leave behind a child.

Every day now, Alfred silently apologized to Bruce's deceased parents. He felt it was his failure in raising Bruce that had led the Wayne Family to face the possible crisis of having no heirs.

The two old men chatted enthusiastically, trading line after line, and soon forgot the others existed again.

At first, they had merely been commiserating with each other. One complained that the child at home was stubborn, while the other said he had raised a mule-headed donkey. One said his child had no ambition, while the other said the greatest ambition of the one he had raised was to drink the wine cellar dry...

But as they talked, the two somehow started competing again. From elementary school grades to after-school exercises, from foreign language skills to operating farm machinery...

It seemed parents everywhere were all the same, especially after they had a few drinks.

Lynn had originally been sitting beside Jonathan Kent, but he truly could not stand the bizarre sight of two old men past fifty craning their necks across him to "argue."

He voluntarily gave his seat to Alfred and, under Mrs. Kent's teasing smile, sat in the middle with a helpless grin. When he changed seats, he also swiped the last bottle of red wine from that side.

As a result, Lynn ended up sitting beside Clark Kent, who had arrived at the table last.

Honestly, at first, Lynn had wanted to use his friendship with Jonathan Kent to take advantage of Clark a little and become his bargain-bin uncle.

Later, he wisely abandoned that dangerous idea.

This was not the place for sworn brotherhood. Do not ruin a great situation in a moment of insanity. This was Superman—act normal.

Resisting the urge to slap himself hard and force himself to calm down, Lynn smiled as he poured himself some wine, then raised the bottle toward Clark.

Clark smiled and gently pushed his glass forward.

"Please believe me, I absolutely did not encourage your father to drink."

Lynn jokingly pointed at Alfred. "It was this white-haired fellow and the black cat beside him."

"Hahaha, you're very humorous."

Clark was very polite. After taking the wineglass, he was about to say something to Lynn when he happened to hear his father say stubbornly, "My son can use motorcycle brake calipers to remove a tractor tire." Clark's face turned a little red at the sound of it.

"Hahaha, in a moment, that gentleman will start talking about how many foreign languages someone speaks. We should probably stay away from those two."

Lynn smoothly came to his rescue. "Perhaps you could show me that motorcycle? Hahaha, do not misunderstand. I have no designs whatsoever on the technique of using motorcycle brake calipers to repair tractor tires."

"Haha, of course."

Clark was grateful for Lynn's rescue. At his age, sitting at the table and listening to his father brag to someone about how many A's he had gotten in elementary school truly made him restless.

The two of them gestured to Mrs. Kent, then rose from the table and went outside for a walk.

Young people could still find common ground with other young people.

As for the dining table, the two old men had already started talking about chess and fishing again.