Gotham and Metropolis faced each other across a gray-blue bay. Commuters usually either drove along the long, winding coastal highway or took the ferry between the two shores. The latter was cheap and slow, naturally making it the first choice for Li Jie and most other poor people. After getting off the boat, he took a bus into the city. He had left his apartment at seven in the morning; by the time he spotted the newspaper building's iconic globe, it was almost ten.
The sunlight was fierce, and Metropolis's forest of glass facades reflected a dazzling glare that almost hurt his eyes. It was a sight he could live his whole life beneath Gotham's gray iron curtain of clouds without ever seeing. When the receptionist asked why he was there, he introduced himself as a fan of Clark Kent. Looking both curious and surprised, she politely led him to a visitors' lounge and brought him coffee. As the door closed behind her, he faintly heard the receptionists whispering.
"Lois's little farmboy sidekick has a fan now...? He looks just as goofy..."
"Shh, you'll be sorry if Lois hears you. I heard she yelled Perry back into his office again today..."
Fine. Sorry I'm not impossibly handsome like those other transmigrators, with women throwing themselves at me after a single glance.
Surrounded by brilliant sunlight, Li Jie slouched on the upholstered seating and looked around. Several beautifully framed black-and-white news photographs hung in a carefully arranged pattern on the walls, recording important moments in the city's history. Near the door, a simple recessed glass display case quietly housed several gleaming Pulitzer Prize trophies and historic front pages from years past. A thick, round glass coffee table stood in the middle of the room, its polished surface reflecting the blue sky and white clouds outside.
He paid particular attention to the trophies. Most bore the same name-Lois Lane.
Maybe she really is talented, but having a father who's both a general and a legislator probably matters more? Whatever. What do I care about journalism? I wonder if I can pass Whelan's problem over to Metropolis today...
As he leaned by the window, lost in idle thoughts, someone knocked and came in. The light outlined a figure so tall he almost seemed imposing, but that impression vanished in an instant. In its place came a reassuring gentleness.
Kindness, humility, shyness... the finest entries in the dictionary of human virtues all found their perfect expression in him. This unfamiliar, six-foot-three man inspired no sense of danger; instead, he made people feel exceptionally safe. He brought to mind a spring hillside covered in thick grass, vast yet full of comforting strength. With his old-fashioned, thick black-framed glasses, loose navy flannel suit, plain tie with diagonal stripes, and slightly rounded shoulders, it was difficult to connect him to the god among men who could carry mountains across oceans. Li Jie stood and extended a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent."
"Uh... uh, it's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Li."
Clark hurried forward two steps and shook Li Jie's hand, only to bump his knee against the edge of the round glass table in his fluster. The coffee surged inside its wobbling cup. He hurriedly released the hand he had just taken and tried to steady the cup, but pressed down on the stirring spoon beside the saucer instead.
Clack!
The spoon flew up and brushed against the front of his suit, leaving a brown stain. Then it struck the table's edge with a clink and landed with a soft thud on the starburst pattern of the blended-fiber carpet.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. That was entirely my fault."
Clark's youthful face turned scarlet. He was only in his twenties, and his greatest accomplishments so far amounted to secretly saving derailing trains or planes about to crash. He had yet to become that world-weary, middle-aged man who loved giving lectures. Although there had been an element of acting in that sequence of movements, he had still made a fool of himself, and some embarrassment was inevitable.
"It's only a little... a minor accident." Li Jie smiled and took a tissue from his pocket. "Here, please use this."
"Thank you so much." Clark awkwardly wiped the front of his suit, then nervously sat down opposite him, his hands neatly placed on his knees. Looking shy and bewildered, he seemed more like the one who had come to meet his idol. They stared at each other for a while, exchanging awkward smiles, until Li Jie finally spoke.
"Mr. Kent, my name is Li Jie. I'm with the Gotham Police Department. I've read your reporting on football. Your writing is... very vivid, very... interesting..."
Vivid and interesting? Interesting, my ass.
Superman might be able to push the moon around effortlessly, but those articles of his were painfully dry. Still, flattery cost nothing, right? Clark's face visibly reddened, and he could no longer keep the corners of his mouth from turning up.
"Uh... you don't just focus on the games. You also call on teams to take their players' health and injuries seriously, while other reporters tend to focus only on team performance and stock returns. I think you must be a very kind person, Mr. Kent."
In Gotham, that kind of flattery wouldn't fool even a ten-year-old. They would simply stare coldly at you, then pull out a switchblade and try to rob you of your loose change when the alley was empty. But this Kansas boy had yet to endure the world's harsh lessons or Batman's dirty tricks; his experience with people was still at grade-school level. He knew the praise was a little exaggerated, so why couldn't he stop wanting to laugh with delight? He adjusted his glasses and said, a little shyly:
"Officer Li, please just call me Clark. Honestly, it's all thanks to my colleague Lois Lane, who helped me get those interviews. Did you read the article about scheduling and player injuries, or the one about the connection between protective equipment and concussions? Would you like to discuss them further?"
Li Jie: ??
Come on, man. Why aren't you following the script? Aren't we just going through the motions of flattering each other? Why are you taking this seriously...?
"Uh... both... I read both..." Li Jie awkwardly rubbed his chin. "No need to be so formal. You can call me Jay. Anyway, I came to see you today about something more important. It concerns a fourteen-year-old boy in Gotham who's being bullied at school and discriminated against at home..."
"That's roughly the situation." He explained Waylon Jones's circumstances. "I'd like your help finding a suitable football team, or maybe a youth development program? I don't know how the system works. But I can guarantee he's genuinely strong. He runs like a tank, and knocking down a wall would be effortless for him. He could absolutely dominate the entire major league."
Clark nodded and considered it. "If that's true, plenty of teams would certainly be eager to sign him. But... as far as I know, bullying happens on teams too. I'm worried..."
"Don't worry. Capitalists won't let stray cats hurt their golden goose. This way, the kid escapes his home environment, the team gets a potential star and a money-making machine, and you get a major story you can keep reporting on. A win for all three, right?"
"That's true." Clark nodded slowly, his blue eyes studying Li Jie through his glasses. "But what about you? What do you get out of it?"
"Me..." Li Jie hesitated. "To be honest, this boy has an inherited genetic condition. It'll make him stronger and stronger, but also uglier and more withdrawn. And... his living conditions are terrible. You know, when people lose all hope in life, they often unleash extraordinary anger and strength. If things keep going like this, when that day finally comes, Gotham will probably end up with an incredibly terrifying antisocial lunatic."
He sighed and slowly shook his head. "But right now, he's still a fourteen-year-old boy. I can't exactly shoot him for crimes he hasn't committed. I hope a better environment can preserve his humanity. Maybe then, one day, I won't have to face a cruel, cold-blooded monster."
"Honestly, that wouldn't be any fun at all."
A brief silence fell over the lounge. Sunlight streamed through the window onto Clark's young face. An innate nobility embodying pure hope and justice slowly shone through that body of steel, dazzling Li Jie until he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Jay, you're a good person. I'll do my best to get in touch with some teams for you. I'll also write a few articles for the paper, urging everyone to pay attention to how school bullying and domestic violence affect young people's physical and mental development. I promise I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"Uh... thank you so much." Li Jie lowered his head and wiped his eyes, putting on a show of being moved.
Watching Clark write something in his notebook across from him, Li Jie took the opportunity to quietly sink his awareness into his mind, only to discover that he hadn't gained any new skill points. Looks like writing articles is Superman's destined lot... though I'd be even more grateful if you stopped writing those painfully awkward pieces with such a limited vocabulary...
As the two fell briefly silent, the lounge door suddenly banged open, and a girl with an oval face and a short bob burst in. She looked at them both and gave an apologetic smile.
"Oh, sorry. I'm here for Clark."
"Hi, uh... this is Officer Li from the Gotham Police Department. This is my colleague, Lois Lane."
Superman hadn't yet become Lois's lapdog, but there was already something between them-at least on his side. Now it was as though a tender shoot had sprouted from a rock; his whole demeanor brightened with excitement. Lois looked at him, then at Li Jie, and said with a smile, "Clark and I have lunch plans. I heard he had a fan, so I couldn't resist coming in to take a look. I hope you don't mind?"
That story might fool Clark, but Li Jie didn't really believe it. A tough, capable career woman like Lois Lane wouldn't deliberately interrupt someone's meeting just to discuss lunch. Most likely, she had taken him for a con artist who had come to pull some trick. Afraid her Kansas boy would fall for it, she had hurried over to check him out.
"No, of course not. Mr. Clark and I have had a very pleasant conversation." Li Jie waved a hand. "It's about time I headed back anyway."
"Jay, would you like to have lunch with us?"
Uh...
Li Jie didn't know whether Clark was doing it deliberately or simply had low emotional intelligence, but when he noticed the slight change in Lois's expression, he hurriedly shook his head. "No, thank you. I couldn't eat anything right now. If you could tell me where the nearest pharmacy is, I'd be very grateful."
"Are you sick? I can take you to the hospital."
Superman truly deserved his reputation as the embodiment of virtue. Li Jie could feel that his concern for others came straight from the heart; for the moment, he had even forgotten Lois. Li Jie smiled and declined his kind offer.
"I'm just dealing with a little lingering seasickness, and preparing for the vomiting I'll be doing on the trip back. Thank you. Goodbye, Lois. Goodbye, Clark."
"Hey, Jay, wait." Seeing that Li Jie really was leaving, Clark hurriedly tore a page from his interview notebook, picked up a pen, and scribbled a few lines. He jogged over and pressed it into Li Jie's hand. "These are the nearest pharmacies, and... and my phone number. If you feel really unwell, or if anything comes up, call me. Don't hesitate. And don't worry about Whelan. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a safe trip."
Li Jie looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. The handwriting was neat, if a little clumsy. He said nothing, only nodded firmly, then turned and pushed open the lounge's heavy door.
The corridor's shadows closed around him, quietly creeping over his shoulders. He strode toward the elevator, leaving behind the young man and woman with their youth, hope, and faint hint of romantic feeling, along with that overly brilliant Metropolis sunlight. Only the slip of paper bearing a phone number remained in his palm, faintly warm, like a tiny brand left by the light.
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