Arrested

After saying goodbye to the two of them, Su Ming stood in front of his wrecked car, which was still smoking, and watched their vehicle gradually disappear. He could vaguely see Clark and Lois still bickering inside, and he felt a little envious.

Sadly, as a bottom-tier paparazzo, he could never have a partner. If he really did uncover some huge scoop one day and extorted a wealthy victim for a fortune, would he have to split the money with a partner?

He did not know how others wrote entertainment news, but Su Ming's method was simple: "One picture, and the rest is made up." He could handle the photography alone, with no need to interview the people involved. The entire report was based on whatever the picture seemed to say.

Truthfulness and journalistic ethics? He had swallowed those in his second year as a paparazzo.

That was how society worked. No matter how great your character was, if you had no money, nobody respected you. That was reality.

"If only there really were Superheroes."

With a sigh, Su Ming turned and entered the rundown apartment building. It was past midnight now, five hours after normal quitting time.

A strange stench always lingered in the gloomy, damp corridor, and the hallway lights were broken too, leaving him no choice but to feel his way upstairs along the wall.

"Shit, who stole the light bulb again?"

Cursing was one thing, but that was just how the nearby neighborhood was. Forget ownerless light bulbs being stolen—even robberies and murders had happened before.

After climbing several flights, he finally reached his door. Su Ming first checked his clothes, then touched his face.

Good. Other than smelling a little like smoked bacon, he showed none of the disheveled signs of having been in a