Gotham and Metropolis faced each other across a grey-blue bay.
The common commuting routes between the two cities were either a long, winding drive along the coastal highway or a ferry ride across the bay.
The latter, being cheaper and slower, was naturally the preferred choice for Jay and most poor people.
After disembarking and taking a bus into the city, he had left his apartment at seven in the morning. By the time he saw the iconic globe logo atop the newspaper building, it was nearly ten o'clock.
The sun was intense now, and the glass skyscraper forest of Metropolis reflected a dazzling light that almost hurt his eyes. This was a sight that was practically impossible to see under the permanent grey iron curtain of clouds in Gotham.
When the front desk receptionist asked for the reason for his visit, he claimed to be a fan of Clark Kent. The receptionist looked curious and surprised, then courteously led him to the meeting room and served him a cup of coffee.
As she closed the door and left, he faintly heard their chattering whispers.
"Lois's farm-boy sidekick has fans now…? He looks just as goofy as him…"
"Shh, you'll be in trouble if Lois hears you. I heard Perry hid in his office again after she yelled at him today…"
Fine, Jay thought. I guess I failed to be one of those cool transmigrators who are so handsome that women instantly throw themselves at them. My bad.
Looking at the bright sunshine outside, Jay slumped into the sofa booth and looked around the room.
Several beautifully framed black-and-white news photographs, documenting important moments of the city, hung artfully on the walls.
Near the door, a simply designed, built-in glass display case quietly held several gleaming Pulitzer Prizes and some historically significant, old front-page newspapers.
In the center of the room was a thick, round glass coffee table. Its surface was polished so brightly that it reflected the blue sky and white clouds outside the window.
He paid close attention to the trophies, most of which bore the name of the same person: Lois Lane.
Perhaps she was genuinely capable, but was it more important that she had a father who was both a general and a senator?
Whatever. News isn't my business.
He wondered if he could successfully pitch the story of Waylon to the Metropolis paper today.
Just as he was lost in thought by the window, someone knocked and walked in.
The light outlined a tall, somewhat imposing figure, but that impression vanished instantly.
It was replaced by a reassuring, gentle aura. Kindness, humility, shyness… the most wonderful entries in the human dictionary of virtues could find apt annotations in this man.
A stranger, 191 cm tall, who, far from making you feel endangered, made you feel exceptionally safe. He made you think of a large hillside covered in thick green grass in spring, massive yet full of comforting strength.
An old-fashioned pair of thick black-rimmed glasses, a loose navy flannel suit, a plain diagonal-striped tie, and slightly hunched shoulders made it truly difficult to connect him with the demigod who could move mountains and leap oceans.
Jay stood up and extended his hand to the man.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent."
"Uh… er, it's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Li."
Clark quickly stepped forward and shook Jay's hand, but in his haste, his knee bumped the edge of the glass coffee table, and the coffee in the cup sloshed violently.
He hurriedly let go of Jay's hand, intending to steady the cup, but instead knocked the stirring spoon next to the saucer.
Boing!
The spoon flew up, grazed his suit jacket, leaving a brown stain, then clinked against the table edge before dropping with a plop onto the star-patterned blended carpet.
Jay: "..."
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault." Clark's young face flushed crimson.
He was only in his twenties now. His biggest achievements were secretly saving runaway trains or about-to-crash planes; he hadn't yet become the preachy man of middle age, weathered by life.
Although his series of movements just now might have contained some element of acting, it was ultimately an embarrassing display, and he couldn't help but feel a little awkward.
"It was just a small… a tiny accident." Jay smiled, pulled a tissue from his pocket, and handed it over. "Please use this to wipe it up."
"Thank you so much." Clark awkwardly wiped his lapel, then sat down across from Jay, hands neatly placed on his knees, looking shy and bewildered, as if he was the one meeting his idol.
The two men exchanged awkward, mutually forced smiles for a moment before Jay finally broke the silence.
"Mr. Kent, my name is Jay Li, and I'm from the Gotham City Police Department. I've read your reporting on football. The writing… is very lively, very… interesting…"
Lively and interesting? Interesting, my ass.
It might be effortless for Superman to push the moon, but the articles he published in the newspaper were dry and difficult to read.
But then again, flattery is free, right? Sure enough, Clark's lips were already starting to twitch into a repressed smile.
"Uh… you don't just focus on the games. You also advocate for teams to pay attention to players' health and injuries, while other reporters often only focus on team performance and stock returns. I think, Mr. Kent must be a very kind person."
In Gotham, this kind of exaggerated praise wouldn't fool a ten-year-old kid. They would just stare coldly at you, then pull out a switchblade to try and steal your loose change when no one was around in the alley.
But for the Kansas boy who hadn't experienced the harsh realities of society or the subtle machinations of Batman, his current social experience was strictly student-level.
While he felt the compliment was a bit excessive, why couldn't he stop himself from wanting to laugh out loud happily?
Clark reached up to adjust his glasses and said:
"Officer Li, please just call me Clark. Honestly, that's all thanks to my colleague, Lois Lane, who helped me get the interview opportunity. Which report did you read, the one about the scheduling and player injury concerns, or the one about protective gear and concussions? Would you like to discuss it further?"
Jay: ??
Dude, why aren't you following the script? This was just supposed to be a polite exchange of compliments, why are you getting serious…?
"Uh… I've… I've read both…" Jay awkwardly rubbed his chin. "You don't have to be so formal, you can call me Jay. Also, I'm here today about something more important.
It's for a fourteen-year-old boy in Gotham who is being bullied at school and discriminated against at home…"
…
"That's the basic situation," he concluded, describing the plight of Waylon Jones. "I want to ask for your help in introducing him to a suitable football team or youth training program?
I don't know the system. But I can guarantee he is truly strong. He runs like a tank; tearing down a wall is nothing for him. He could absolutely dominate the entire major league."
Clark nodded, pondering. "If that's really the case, then many teams would indeed be scrambling for him. But… as far as I know, there is bullying in team settings too. I worry that…"
"Don't worry. The capitalists won't let wildcats hurt their golden geese. This way, the kid escapes his toxic environment, the team gets a potential star and a cash cow, and you get a major news story for continuous coverage. It's a win-win-win, isn't it?"
"That is true," Clark nodded slowly, his blue eyes assessing Jay through the lenses. "But what about you, what do you stand to gain?"
"Me?" Jay hesitated. "To be honest, this child has a hereditary genetic disorder that will make him stronger and also increasingly ugly and isolated. And… his living environment is terrible.
You know, when people lose all hope in life, they often explode with extraordinary rage and power. If things continue like this, one day Gotham will gain a terrifying sociopath."
He sighed and slowly shook his head. "But right now, he is still a fourteen-year-old boy. I can't just shoot him for a crime he hasn't committed yet.
I hope a better environment can preserve his humanity. Maybe one day, I won't have to face a cruel, cold-blooded monster.
Seriously, that wouldn't be fun at all."
A brief silence fell over the meeting room. The sunlight outside the window shone through the glass onto Clark's young face.
A natural, pure quality of hope and righteousness, emanating from the Man of Steel, slowly radiated outward, making it almost difficult for Jay to keep his eyes open.
"Jay, you're a good man. I will do my best to help you make contact.
I will also write a few general articles in the paper for you, calling on society to pay attention to the impact of school bullying and domestic violence on the healthy development of adolescents. I promise to get back to you as soon as possible."
"Uh… that would be truly wonderful, thank you."
Jay watched Clark across the table scribble something in his notebook and took the opportunity to quietly check his mind, only to find no new skill points had been added.
It seems writing articles is Superman's destiny… but I'd be even more grateful if you stopped writing those articles with the poor vocabulary and painful reading experience…
Just as the two were silent again, the meeting room door was suddenly pushed open with a bang, and an oval-faced girl with a bob haircut burst in.
She looked at the two of them and offered an apologetic smile.
"Oh, excuse me, I came to find Clark."
"Hi, uh… this is Officer Li from the Gotham Police Department. This is my colleague, Lois Lane."
Although Superman wasn't yet Lois's lover, the two of them appeared quite intimate to outsiders—at least, it was a one-sided intimacy. Like a tender sprout growing on a rock, Clark's entire demeanor became more animated.
Lois glanced at him, then at Jay, and said with a smile, "Clark and I made plans for lunch. I heard he had a fan, and I couldn't resist coming in to see. Do you mind?"
She could fool Clark with that, but Jay wasn't buying it. A tough, capable career woman like Lois Lane wouldn't intentionally interrupt someone's meeting just to discuss lunch.
Most likely, this woman took him for a scam artist trying to pull a fast one and was worried her Kansas boy would be taken advantage of.
"No, of course not. Mr. Clark and I had a great chat," Jay waved his hand. "It's about time. I should be heading back."
"Jay, would you like to join us for lunch?" Clark offered.
Uh…
Jay didn't know if Clark was being intentionally dense or just lacked social intelligence, but seeing Lois's face subtly shift, he quickly shook his head. "No, thank you. I can't eat right now. I'd be very grateful if you could just tell me where the nearest pharmacy is."
"Are you sick? I can take you to the hospital."
Jay smiled and declined Clark's offer.
"I just have a bit of lingering seasickness and need to prepare for the inevitable vomiting on the way back, thank you. Goodbye, Lois. Goodbye, Clark."
"Hey, Jay, wait," seeing Jay actually about to leave, Clark hurriedly tore a page from his interview notebook, picked up a pen, and quickly scribbled a few lines.
"These are the nearest pharmacies, and… and my phone number. If you feel very unwell, or if anything happens, just call me, don't hesitate. Also, don't worry about Waylon. I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
Safe travels."
Jay looked down at the note in his hand. The handwriting was neat but slightly clumsy.
He said nothing, just nodded firmly, turned, and pushed open the heavy meeting room door.
The shadow of the corridor fell, silently creeping up Jay's shoulder.
He hurried towards the elevator, leaving behind the young man and woman radiating youth, hope, and a hint of subtle affection, and the overly bright sunlight of Metropolis.
Only the piece of paper in his palm, with the phone number written on it, felt slightly warm, like a small brand from the light.
——————
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