[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter 39 Master's Diary ([-])

I'm sure I don't like this alien.

Superman is the son of tomorrow in the sun, and Batman is the ghost that brings terror in the dark.

It's just that I didn't expect us to meet again so soon, in a different way.

After the night patrol was over, Bruce Wayne caught up on his usual morning board meeting.Six hours later, the radiant Prince of Gotham and the darling of East Coast society, sporting an expensive skin, a light gray suit tailored for a lot of money, and a blond movie star hooked on his left hand chin, with his right arm around the fragrant shoulders of a mulatto supermodel, he shuttles back and forth in the upper class of Gotham.

"Hey, Brucey baby! Two more beautiful chicks!"

"I will never stop pursuing beauty." I replied casually, throwing a smile to the two women under my arms, "You are simply synonymous with beauty."

"Another beautiful night, Mr. Wayne! A rare warm and sunny day!"

"Of course, of course, but let's not talk about the weather like a rigid Brit."

"Baby Bruce! . . . "

I was surrounded by a genial and flattering crowd of villains, jackals, vultures, and parasites.They thought they covered it up well, but in fact, every move loudly proclaimed that "Bruce Wayne is just a playboy who squandered his parents' inheritance, a second-generation grandpa who indulged in pleasure, a puppet manipulated by others, and has nothing but a face." An idiot whose boss is lucky but out of luck" or something like that.

A pinprick-like chill emerged from the noisy and well-dressed hall, and stuck into my throat like a fishbone.

I apologized to my girlfriends and stopped for a moment in the doorway of the exhibition room displaying ancient Eastern and Western armor. Don't stick - his appearance as a waiter really ranks at the top of the [-] funny things in Gotham!

I leaned lazily against the wooden walls carved with various patterns like chocolate, and kicked the wooden table with legs that didn't match each other.Men and women are throwing a lot of money at the gambling table, and the carefully matched flower arrangements in the vases make me feel dizzy.

In this moment of unbalanced mind and body, a tall and awkward guy squeezed all the way apologetically (he scratched a lot of lace and dresses, nearly tripped a few times), and then he stood in front of me and took a few deep breaths , cleared his throat awkwardly, and said hesitantly, "Sorry...excuse me, who is Bruce Wayne?"

I subconsciously showed a gentleman's friendly smile, and looked at him calmly.

This guy is really big enough, it's hard for him to push through the crowd to get here.Her jet-black and glossy hair was parted in threes and sevens, and under her full and regular forehead was a pair of thick-rimmed glasses at the level of a grandmother.He shrank his neck in a lack of confidence - he wished to shrink into his bulky shell like a tortoise, like a cowardly young man who was caught in the battlefield - he couldn't see the length of his neck, and there was a royal blue rope hanging on it. The ID on the rope clearly shows the identity of the reporter.

His outdated glasses, ill-fitting suit, clumsy demeanor, timid eyes and a touch of rural western accent are incompatible with the feasting and feasting.

Daily Planet reporter, Clark Joseph Kent.

I don't like visitors to the Metropolis, whether it's the guardians of the city or the reporters of the Daily Planet—their hands are always overreached, and it's noble to meddle in affairs outside the territory.It's a pity that the one who can taunt freely and unscrupulously is Batman. Although Bruce Wayne is an ignorant playboy, the most basic demeanor is still indispensable.

"I'mnotsure." (I'm not sure) so I gave an ambiguous and polite answer.

"Uh...thank you anyway." The little reporter rubbed his hands together and looked around hesitantly.

The poor (giant) rabbit-like appearance makes Bruce Wayne decide to help him out occasionally with a sudden burst of kindness: "As a current affairs reporter, why do you want Bruce Wayne?"

"Sorry, what?" The reporter from Planet Daily obviously lacked a sense of humor. He looked puzzled, and his pure blue eyes were wide open.

(Bold note: By God, the greatest detective who claims to be amazingly observant ignores those blue eyes that are hidden under thick lenses, exactly like Superman!)

"'Brucie Babe' is always on the entertainment page, Mr. Kent." I straightened my bow tie, and slipped a pen into the vase (and was swiftly taken away by old Alfred who was always with me--really a qualified housekeeper), casually grabbed the long rope around his neck, and looked at the face on the press card at the end half covered by glasses, "I have read your article, with a unique perspective and a novel viewpoint, like It's as compelling as a romance."

Clark Gape Kent opened his mouth in a daze, and there was a slight sense of cuteness, which was a credit to his good looks: only when he neutralizes it with handsomeness, can the effect of cuteness be produced, otherwise it is just pure stupidity.

"This is a task assigned by the editor-in-chief, sir." The little reporter awkwardly shifted his weight to the other foot and replied without a sense of humor.

"And you certainly haven't done enough homework, Mr. Reporter, the darling of East Coast society who makes an appearance in a fashion magazine now and then, and you don't even know what he looks like?" I decided to tease him.

"I don't read fashion magazines, sir, I was temporarily arranged by the editor-in-chief." The little reporter lowered his head in shame, "It is said that Bruce Wayne is a typical East Coast handsome man, with exquisite and handsome silhouette, bushy eyebrows and black hair , and a pair of electric blue eyes and an elegant and charming smile..."

With each word he uttered, the smile on my lips widened: "Too bad he's a slob—oh, not in bed."

The country boy's face turned completely red, as if he had thrown a shrimp into boiling water.

Innocent Clark Kent like a blank sheet of paper.

And I was able to continue my teasing and teasing: "Bruce Wayne is a guy who squanders his parents' property and racks his brains to eat, drink and have fun. He is not worthy of an interview with the Daily Planet current affairs reporter. Go back to the Metropolis, Little Clark."

"Hands up, ladies and gentlemen!" With a gunshot, the door burst open.A dozen guns were aimed at the men and women in the hall—scenes like this are replayed several times a day in Gotham.

I'm a little annoyed - after all, I'm still looking forward to more silly expressions from the little reporter.

Oh idiot - a hulking and huge figure nervously stopped in front of me - I blinked three times before I was sure it was this Clark Kent I met for the first time.Batman has a lot of emergency records, what kind of hero are you!

"You...you don't really want to do this, buddy..." the little reporter murmured inarticulately and tremblingly, "I know you may have encountered difficulties...but, but guns can't solve social problems..."

"This is Gotham, the capital of crime, Clark Kent!" I yelled helplessly, "This is not Metropolis and you are not Superman! Get out of the way!"

The criminal said condescendingly, spitting and sympathetic: "Gotham baby Bruce is right, there is only one city in the world that has privileges, as long as you shout 'help', the savior will come wearing a red cape—— And I'm glad that city wasn't Gotham."

The reporter snorted twice, like "Gotham baby Brucey?!", and was thrown out of the gate by two criminals.

It was really unexpected that this innocent child was not shot in the head—maybe it was because the criminals were in a good mood today?

"Put all your jewelry, gold and silver in this bag, ladies and gentlemen!" cried the crime boss in a dramatically shrill voice, "or the hero reporter from the Metropolis is your role model!"

Crying and screaming one after another, like a grand symphony.

The symphony played for ten seconds.

Then, a red light broke through the barrier of the window (in layman's terms, it broke my window), and the red shadow bent like lightning in the hall, when the red shadow finally turned into a red cloak hanging When the fluttering man fell, the robbers had been neatly and methodically tied up in a string (their coats were used for visual inspection), and each one looked mournful.

The Kryptonian, who had crossed six galaxies to Earth, stepped across my innocent glass, stood in the middle of the hall to the applause and cheers of the crowd, apparently heeding Batman's warnings.

And I'm going to go out and see the presumably bruised and comatose Clark Hero Kent.

"Clark has gone back, Mr. Wayne." The calm and gentle voice of the alien rescue dog sounded from behind me in a sixty-degree upward direction, "If you don't mind, maybe we can talk?"

I shrugged and said, "I'd rather have dinner with that corny boy from rural Kansas, though you look like a better date, Big Scout."

The godlike man landed on the ground, his arms wrapped in blue tights were still wrapped around his chest, and the muscles on his separated legs were clearly curved.He said without anger: "Don't bother poor Clark for now, Mr. Wayne, otherwise it will be difficult for him to keep his job. Besides, I just want to answer some doubts for you, after all, you represent almost the entire Gotham .”

"Gotham mascot Brussie baby?" I try to keep the sarcasm in my voice, "You're as good as ever. So first question, why are you helping people?"

"I help people because people need help." Superman replied gently but simply.

"Hmph." I snorted short and frivolously, and made a special trip to prove that "I don't believe your words at all."

"I never lie, Mr. Wayne." His encircling arms were loosened, and his hands were beautifully and powerfully folded on his legs. His eyes were as blue as the polar ice sea, so blue that no one could doubt it.

"It might be easier to bring us closer if you'd call me by my first name, Superman." I ushered the obtrusive alien into a living room, using my baby Brucey's sweet nasal voice. explain.

"You can also call me Kyle, Bruce." The Kryptonian said kindly, he pulled out the chair gentlemanly, made a "please" gesture for me to sit down, and then sat down on the opposite chair with a flick of his cloak.

"So, Kyle, can you tell me the answer? Why help people, why be a professional hero?"

"Professional hero?" The Kryptonian pressed his fist to his lips and chin, "You mean, a vigilante like Batman?"

"Batman isn't a hero, Kyle," I said lazily. "Which 'hero' have you ever seen who hides in the shadows of midnight and seeks to intimidate?"

Superman shook his head noncommittally, and his Kryptonian strong right hand reached out to me again—to Bruce Wayne: "Fly with me once, Bruce, and then you'll know why I fly around the earth , to stop an earthquake, flood, robbery, or just for a cat that climbed a tree and couldn’t get down. Fly with me once and your doubts will be answered.”

Batman would be furious over such an "insult", but Bruce Wayne is a second-generation ancestor who loves thrills and extreme sports, and there is no reason to refuse such a tempting invitation.

"Maybe I need an oxygen tank and a spacesuit?"

"No, we don't need those." Gracefully getting up from the chair, he took my hand - the Kryptonian's strength made it impossible for me to break free - and then he put my shoulders, "Are you ready?"

Kyle El raised his left arm for me to grasp, while the other hand brushed aside the resistance of the air and stretched straight forward.

Wayne Manor is getting smaller and smaller, and the road with traffic becomes like a string of beads in the field of vision.

Batman has driven the Batplane across the night sky many times, but this is the first time Bruce Wayne has seen the night sky of Gotham from a height.

Gotham is like a voluptuous, tired, scarred woman lying sprawled on the East Coast.

The Kryptonian's S-shaped curly hair flutters on his forehead, and there is a reassuring and gentle smile in his dimples.

"You have all the knowledge thousands of years ahead of the earth, the technology, culture, art, and philosophy of 28 galaxies... You should know better than everyone else that everyone will continue to rotate without the earth. This world has never needed a savior, nor Man is a savior." I stared at Gotham getting smaller and smaller, and said in a voice that was not Brucey's baby and not Batman's.

Superman didn't explain, he just smiled slightly, his dimples shone, and silently stirred the air like a splash of water, slowly rising into the night sky, flying higher and higher.

Under our feet are countless cities and homes, all silent and brightly lit.

We are floating in the universe, looking down on the earth with the distant darkness behind our backs.

"What did you hear, Bruce?"

"Nothing." (Nothing heard.)

"But I hear everything." (But I hear everything.)

"What did you hear, Kyle?"

"I can hear everything." Superman repeated. "Gunshots, cracks, brakes, explosions, cries... all echoed in my ears, becoming more and more distinct."

The red cloak flapped behind him.

I stretched out my other arm like an alien, and closed my eyes.

I understand.

This man once had the most common Kryptonian name, and he was originally an ordinary Kryptonian citizen.

After the destruction of his parent star, he was endowed with endless life, infinite power, indestructible body, unlimited time and space... Only a superman can have this kind of loneliness.

He is the loneliest species in the universe.

The reason why he came here was not the high-sounding "truth, justice and the American way" at all, but the loneliness and compassion under the great power.

Because Superman can hear it.

The author has something to say: This picture is the rhythm of ALL flowers?

Bahaha what the right way to open it!

The last interpretation of Superman's loneliness was inspired by Huang Zhizhong's NetEase blog "Spiderman".