"Lane"
Red barn, golden waves of wheat undulating in the wind.
And that straight asphalt road that cuts straight through the wilderness, together they have created the warm colors that Kansas has maintained for a decade.
After that incident on the reconnaissance ship, John's life finally returned to normal.
Old Joe's health has fully recovered.
Martha was still in the kitchen fiddling with her favorite oven and pies.
John returned to his working life, becoming a bartender in the tavern in Munie.
It's worth mentioning that, surprisingly, Sam promoted him.
He rose from a floor cleaner to a bartender.
Occasionally, when there are too many people to handle, he also has to work as a bartender.
However, this peaceful part-time life was exceptionally pleasant for John.
Looking at the truck drivers reeking of engine oil and the wheat farmers with their skin tanned brown.
Arguing heatedly at the bar over a few cents for gas, or getting into a fight over a football star's transfer.
These interesting, mundane things, on the contrary, gave him a rare sense of peace after the tension had subsided.
Although this kind of life will soon be gone.
At 10 a. m., the tavern was not doing much business.
The radio was playing deep, country Bruce music.
John changed to a clean white cloth and slowly wiped away the wine stains left on the bar counter last night.
At this moment.
"Jingle--"
The rusty brass bell on the door lintel emitted a crisp, clear ringing sound.
With the creaking sound of the door hinges being pushed open, a cool autumn breeze swept into the tavern along with two graceful figures.
John didn't look up, casually placed the gleaming glass upside down on the drainer, and then habitually began to speak:
Good morning, both of you. The draft beer isn't chilled yet, but the whiskey or hot coffee are ready anytime...
But before he could finish speaking, a rapid clatter of leather boots went straight toward the bar.
She was a tall, blonde girl wearing a loose-fitting light-colored denim jacket.
She was wearing a tight white T-shirt underneath, and her high ponytail swayed with her steps.
Half a step behind was a woman with an elegant figure and a completely different temperament.
She was wearing a retro-style khaki button-down trench coat, over which she wore a dark-colored turtleneck sweater.
She wore thin black-rimmed glasses on her nose, carried a brown briefcase, and her long hair was neatly tied back.
Thump!
The blonde girl pulled the woman in the trench coat along quickly.
Before John could even fully react, she pulled out a high stool and plopped down on it angrily.
He then slammed his elbows heavily on the wooden bar counter and rested his chin on his hands.
A pair of beautiful, deep blue eyes were filled with resentment as she stared intently at John at the bar.
" John!"
The girl gritted her teeth, pouted, and shouted:
Do you remember the phone number I gave you last time?
It's been a full two months since I returned to the Metropolis! Two months! And you haven't sent me a single text message!
John paused slightly in the rag in his hand.
He then raised his eyes and sized up the sullen young girl in front of him.
Oh... he really does remember.
That day was a Friday.
Several drunk drivers from out of town were lurking in a corner, trying to assault her; they were extremely arrogant.
John, unable to stand it any longer, started a fight, beating them like dead dogs. After apologizing, they slunk away.
According to Old Sam, those bastards don't dare come to Munie for drinks anymore.
The blonde girl named Kelly was the one who was rescued at that time.
That evening, Kelly, blushing and emboldened by the alcohol, wrote her phone number on a napkin, saying she wanted to treat him to a big meal.
As for that napkin...
John silently recalled the events in his mind.
It was probably the next morning when he was changing his clothes that he carelessly threw it into the kitchen stove, where it burned to charcoal.
but.
John simply smiled at the accusing look on the girl's face.
He then neatly folded the rag in his hand and placed it on the edge of the table, saying with a hint of helplessness:
"Sorry, the farm needs manpower for the late summer harvest."
The harvester broke down twice, and the tavern had to keep running non-stop. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow at night... It was definitely my fault."
As he spoke, John flipped over another clean, upside-down glass of water, filled it with warm water, and pushed it over.
Then, without changing his expression, he chuckled awkwardly.
"How about this, I'll treat you to lunch? Mainly a steakhouse in Munie, or maybe some barbecue... whatever you want to eat."
When John offered to treat her, the blonde girl's resentment visibly lessened.
But she still gave a haughty hum, crossed her arms, and placed them on her ample chest.
At that moment, John turned his gaze to the long-haired woman sitting next to the girl, who had been staring at him ever since he entered the room.
The water temperature is just right.
He naturally pushed the other glass of water over and nodded.
"So this person is...?"
Upon hearing this question, the blonde girl's expression immediately became even more resentful, and she even couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"It seems you really haven't taken my words to heart, Mr. John."
The girl sighed and complained irritably:
"Do you remember what I told you last time? This is my cousin, Lois Ryan."
As she spoke, the girl reached out and tugged at the woman's sleeve, a hint of pride unconsciously creeping into her voice:
"She's a top reporter for Metropolis Daily Planet, the kind who's been nominated for Pulitzer Prize!"
She's such a busy person, and she finally gets a break, but she can't stay idle at all.
They insisted on dragging me all the way to Munie to investigate the 'gas station incident' that happened in town more than a decade ago.
The girl took a sip of water, then lowered her voice and said mysteriously:
"I heard that the higher-ups at their newspaper have recently gone mad for some reason."
He is particularly keen on collecting so-called 'extraterrestrial life' and traces of aliens all over the United States...
He even gave a strict order: three relevant reports must be collected within a week.
"Oh... right, I was talking to my cousin about you. You should be quite familiar with Kansas, which is why I thought of asking you for help."
Let's see if we can get any inside information.
Upon hearing Kelly's words, John's fingers, which were wiping the countertop, paused almost imperceptibly.
Investigating the "gas station incident"?
Wasn't his mother coming specifically for him?
And then... you want me to help investigate myself?
John slowly raised his head and met Lois's deep, slightly scrutinizing eyes.
"Hello, Miss Ryan... Welcome to Kansas."
Lois didn't respond.
She took off her gloves, adjusted her thin black-rimmed glasses, and pulled a yellowed old photocopy from her briefcase.
Then it was pushed to John's side:
"Mr. John, Kelly is a freshman in college, and her language skills aren't very clear..."
"I'm a frontline reporter for the Daily Planet, and I'm here to investigate a witnessing incident that occurred at a gas station in Smallville."
"If the report is true, I can pay you a substantial reward."
Lois speaks very quickly, but her pronunciation is exceptionally clear:
"Twelve years ago, in front of a gas station convenience store on the western outskirts of Munie and Smallville."
A driver weighing over 200 pounds was punched through the windshield of a heavy pickup truck by a seven or eight-year-old boy who threw his bare hands at him.
As she spoke, Lois leaned forward:
"But according to eyewitnesses at the time, the little boy just casually slapped him."
The burly man, weighing over 200 pounds, was sent flying more than ten meters away, smashing through the pickup truck's windshield.
"Afterwards, through the efforts of the gas station owner, the local police department forcibly classified the case as 'driver injured while intoxicated'."
We only realized something was wrong after the new Commissioner Gordon pulled up the file.
Lois extended a finger and tapped it on the yellowed document:
"A seven or eight-year-old child, with his bare hands, sent an adult weighing over 200 pounds flying ten meters..."
"Mr. Kent, you've been in Munie for so long, do you remember this strange incident from back then?"
John glanced down at the yellowed photocopy of the transcript.
He certainly remembered that incident.
But unexpectedly, twelve years later, someone was still able to follow the Silk from back then and find their way back here.
They even... personally asked him, the "person involved," to help investigate himself?