Chapter 31 Yale: Joanna, I want to be friends with your best friend.
"You're here."
"Shouldn't I be here?"
"You shouldn't be here."
"Yet here I am."
"Being here does no good." The elderly security guard at Smallville flipped a page of his newspaper without even looking at Yale, "If you're late, you don't get in."
Yale gnashed his teeth.
"Rules are dead, but people are flexible."
"You're right."
"Let me in."
"No."
Yale:...
"How much longer is your ten-year term?" Yale asked, taking a deep breath.
"About a year and a half left, I suppose." Slade shrugged, "What? Already starting to think about throwing a farewell party for Mr. Wilson?"
"..."
"How much money will it take to renew your contract?" Yale cut straight to the point.
"Money?"
"You kid?" Slade raised his single-eyed eyebrow, sizing up the boy who looked harmless enough but had chased him all around Smallville the other day and even snapped his newly bought longsword in half.
"You're just a comic artist." Deathstroke crossed his legs, "How much money can you pull out?"
Yale pondered for a moment and raised three fingers.
"Thirty thousand dollars?" Slade laughed in disbelief, "Looking down on me, are you?"
"..."
"Three hundred thousand?"
"Three million." Yale said, "Security guard salaries are so low these days, I'm a bit worried you won't be able to feed the Wilson Family."
"My wife and I divorced long ago, and both kids went with her." Slade sneered, "And do you know how much Vought offered me back then? They offered me eight million dollars a year! Now *that* is an offer!"
"Five million." Yale crossed his arms.
"Ten million."
"Six million." Yale said with a heart-pained expression, "How about settlement in gold?"
"..."
Slade touched his chin.
"Gold?"
"Right."
"Well, for the sake of gold, I'll reluctantly agree." Sladewaved his hand generously, "Remember to notify me to collect the money before I retire."
Yale let out an imperceptible sigh.
What a pity.
His bottom line had been twenty million.
"Don't feel bad, kid." Deathstroke thought Yale was heartbroken over the money, "I am Slade Wilson, with me protecting your parents, what are you worrying about?"
"Sigh..."
"And don't even think about bargaining." Slade warned, "When it comes to bargaining with me, even your uncle isn't qualified, kid."
"Then goodbye."
Yale turned around, holding back a laugh.
"Where are you going?"
"I am your employer now, I order you to open the school gate."
"..."
"Open the school gate!"
"There are no classes this morning." Slade looked speechlessly at the boy's back, "There's only a week left until Homecoming, and this morning the students are gathering to decorate the grand auditorium."
"Aren't you the student council advisor? Stand up straight, Yale, don't make people think you'd slack off on even this little bit of public duty."
Yale curled his lips, just about to step through the opened school gate.
However, Super Hearing caught a certain heartbeat first.
"Still not pissing off?"
"Don't give orders to your boss, Deathstroke."
"You kid..."
Ignoring the slightly tooth-gritting Deathstroke, Yalelooked toward the side door of the teaching building.
He saw a middle-aged man wearing short sleeves walking out from the chilly morning mist, a gentle smile still hanging on the corners of his mouth.
Calculating the time, it made sense; Smallville's history teachers indeed only had classes in the morning, and it was entirely reasonable for Mr. Blake to finish work and head back to make up for lost sleep.
"Mr. Blake."
"Good morning, Yale." Mr. Blake elongated his tone deliberately, "You're here quite early today~"
"High school boys in puberty always love their sleep." Yalesighed, "And you? Is your shift over?"
"I've finished planning the display boards, the rest should be left to you young people. Now this old bone needs to go back and catch up on sleep." Blake smiled.
"..."
"By the way, Mr. Blake, about Soldier Boy whom you mentioned in class yesterday, I'm quite curious about where you got your information. I'm quite interested in learning more about this war hero."
"History teachers always read a bit more." Blake's smile didn't shift at all, "Most of it is probably just unofficial history anyway."
A watertight answer.
Yale glanced sideways toward the security room.
He saw that Slade had already buried his head low.
This world-class mercenary was actually hiding himself in front of a history teacher using a small newspaper right now?
Did you really take yourself for a security guard?!
"Mr. Blake, right, my father Jonathan has always wanted me to find the time to thank you for making Clark the history class representative." Yale smiled and reached out his hand, "He's been loving reading books lately."
"Is that so? That's great." Blake smiled gently, completely unguarded as he stepped forward to shake hands with Yale, "This is just my duty as a teacher."
"Clang——!"
The familiar prompt sound rang in his ears.
Sure enough...
"Yale?" Blake seemed a bit puzzled.
"Your hands are quite warm." Yale let go of his hand, "I originally wanted to remind you to keep warm, but it doesn't look like it's necessary now."
"You young people are the ones who need to take care of your health." Blake patted Yale's shoulder and turned to leave, "Body coldness isn't very good, I suppose your brother doesn't have this kind of trouble."
Yale:...
Who are you being sarcastic to?!
"Since people are gone, stop staring." Slade said casually, the old guy finally raising his head high.
"You seem very afraid of him?" Yale gave the old veteran a meaningful look.
"I'm a security guard, letting late students into the school gate and all that—of course I'm afraid of teachers finding out." Solemnly lowering his head, Slade Wilson buried his face back under the newspaper.
"I really prefer your cousin instead." Yale suddenly said.
"...?"
"You old codger are really not interesting at all."
"Cousin?"
Slade was stunned at the words.
But when his single eye lifted from above the newspaper, the entrance was already empty.
"Where the hell did I get a cousin? This family..."
"Since people are gone, stop staring."
A spurious voice interrupted the swearing.
Deathstroke turned his head in silence.
He saw the middle-aged man had returned, standing unblinkingly inside the security booth, staring fixedly in the direction Yale had left.
"You seem very afraid of him?" Deathstroke took the lead to snort coldly.
Blake:...
---
Ignoring the two old men playing a solo act behind him,
Yale walked along the direction of the heartbeat he had caught, rounded the east side of the teaching building, and saw two girls walking toward him under the ginkgo tree.
The blonde with blue eyes on the left occasionally raised her hand to tuck loose hair falling before her eyes behind her ear, while the one on the right...
"Mona said? Sigh, don't ask her what she said, without you she's just a coward, she said this case doesn't need on-site investigation at all! Just checking the supermarket's shopping records can pinpoint the suspect! I told her right then, Mona, you're way too naive, do you think the suspect is stupid enough to use their own membership card?"
A girl with a chestnut ponytail was gesturing vividly and talking endlessly to Joanna.
Elaine Belloc.
One of Joanna's two best friends at Smallville High School.
She, Joanna, and another girl named Mona had formed a small detective agency specializing in trivial cases around the town of Smallville.
Elaine did the talking, the quiet Mona watched, and Joannadid...
Probably everything.
Yale's eye twitched.
"Is that your brother Yale? Joanna." Elaine seemed to have noticed his gaze, hurriedly nudging Joanna's arm, "He's looking over here, hey!"
"Hey! Yale!"
Elaine pushed Joanna and quickened her pace to walk over.
"Good morning." Yale waved at the two, "Elaine."
"Why didn't you say good morning to Joanna?" Elainegiggled.
"Because someone didn't wake me up this morning." Yalesaid unhappily, "Causing me to beg at the gate for half a day before Mr. Wilson was willing to let me in."
"Clearly you and Clark talked all night." Joanna said softly.
"...?!"
The ahoge on Elaine's head stood straight up.
"All night?" she was astonished.
"Talking about philosophy." Yale casually changed the subject, "Right, isn't your detective agency open for business today?"
"Closed today." Elaine said righteously, "Suspended during Homecoming, we need to discuss how to..."
"Elaine." Joanna said abruptly.
"Fine, fine." Elaine guiltily averted her gaze.
Hiding something from me?
Yale raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
His Super Hearing could clearly capture Elaine's accelerated heartbeat.
Whatever...
Better hurry up and send this person packing, he intended to discuss Clark's matter with Joanna now.
"Elaine... Belloc, right? I remember we've never formally met."
"Don't we always greet each other in the hallway?" Elainetilted her head in confusion.
"A 'hi' in the hallway and a formal introduction are two different things." Yale smiled and extended his hand, "I'm Yale Kent, Joanna's older brother and the target of her annoyance, the youngest son of the Kent Family."
"Pfft—"
Elaine couldn't help laughing out loud, her ponytail swaying behind her.
"I'm Elaine Belloc, chief investigator of the detective agency and the chatterbox ignored by Joanna!" She extended her hand and shook it.
Palms touched.
Warm and soft, what a sixteen-year-old girl should have...
"Ding——"
... Ding?
"Nice to meet you! Yale!" Elaine smiled as she retracted her hand, then turned to Joanna and gave a thumbs up, "Alright! I'll go to the grand auditorium to help Mona first! You guys go on your date slowly..."
Her voice stuttered as she met Joanna's gloomy gaze.
"I mean, I'm leaving first! You guys talk! I won't disturb you!"
"Farewell!"
Treading on the fallen leaves beneath the ginkgo tree, the bright yellow figure skipped across the playground and disappeared into the path leading to the auditorium.
Yale's gaze instinctively chased that retreating figure.
"... People are gone." Joanna said gloomily.
"..."
"Joanna."
Yale was silent for a moment.
"What?" Joanna frowned.
"That..."
"Elaine..." Yale hesitated, "She... this girl, is she an angel?"
"Angel?"
Joanna's pupils constricted as her Super Vision looked toward the figure turning into a yellow dot at the end of the distant path.
Elaine Belloc was waving and greeting Mona, chattering about something with a carefree smile.
Could it be...
Yale had fallen in love at first sight with this Elaine?!
But how could Elaine be that? She clearly had no other superpowers besides glowing!
Or did Yale just like this type?!
Super Brain whirled, endless thoughts drifting past Joanna's slightly reddened eyes.
Of course, Yale didn't have telepathy.
He was still immersed in the aftertaste of that "ding" just now.
"Special template wielder detected"
"Target determination: Archangel Mi%￥&... Seraph · Elaine Belloc"
"Template locked — Seraph"
"Roleplay conditions: Existence! Creation! Creativity! Holy Light! Mercy! Judgment! Justice! And... Making demons ascend in a spiral!"
Seraph...
Why would there be an angel in Smallville?!
I have to say...
The explosiveness of this news was so great that even years later, when Yale Kent sat on the throne of the Silver City, he would still recall this distant afternoon.
He would sigh at the only conclusion he drew during the one hundred and forty-three consecutive days of drought in Smallville in the autumn of his sixteenth year.
— Smallville, a land of outstanding people, keeps no idle folk.
Chapter 32: Uncle Ben Will Fight the Gay Four in an Undiscovered Amazonian Jungle.
Smallville in October.
Although this year's harvest wasn't very good, as the Harvest Festival—arriving alongside Homecoming—drew near, the townspeople spontaneously began wrapping corn stalks and colorful ribbons around the streetlights.
The streets were a bit livelier than usual today.
It's just a pity…
Yale glanced at the dark clouds in the sky.
To be honest, he really didn't want to go out at all.
"So, what are we buying?" Yale yawned, looking at Joannain the gray hoodie ahead of him.
The wind blew from the east, stirring a few strands of loose hair across the girl's forehead and revealing a pair of indifferent, sky-blue eyes.
"Flour, sugar, cinnamon powder, candles," she said. "Auntie said there might be a power outage tonight."
"Fine," Yale stretched. "You navigate, and I'll carry the goods."
Joanna nodded, still walking silently in front as she turned toward the nearby grocery store.
She knew Smallville like the back of her hand, and coupled with her super senses, she had absolute mastery over everything within a five-mile radius of the Kent Family's activities, thorough like a lioness patrolling her own territory year-round.
Seeing his sister being so reliable, Yale followed her light footsteps with profound gratification, letting his Super Brain go on autopilot while effortlessly spinning off a thread to ponder the fact that a certain chattering, chestnut-ponytail girl in Smallville was actually a seraph—this was even more shocking to him than the template Black had given him.
"What are you thinking about?" Joanna suddenly turned back and glanced at him.
"Nothing," Yale scratched his cheek.
"You are," Joanna said softly. "You always scratch your face when you lie."
"I was thinking about that brother of ours who only knows how to play football, and what kind of terrible future he's going to have," Yale sighed.
"Liar."
Yale: "..."
I couldn't possibly tell you that I was thinking about how to make friends with your best friend, right?
...
The grocery store was located in the corner of the town.
Perhaps in response to Smallville's call for power conservation, the store owner, Mrs. Evelyn, only lit a single candle.
Making the entire shop look somewhat eerie.
"Goodness, let me see who it is?"
The witch appeared, and Yale felt his teeth ache a bit.
She was the toughest person to deal with in town.
"The handsome young man of the Kent Family and his gorgeous sister." Seventy- or eighty-year-old Mrs. Evelyn poked her head out from behind the counter, the butterfly hairpin on her graying hair exceptionally eye-catching. "Did little Martha send you two?"
"Mrs. Evelyn," Yale greeted casually.
"I know what you guys want. The flour is on the third aisle, the sugar is on the fourth, and the cinnamon powder is in the storeroom," Mrs. Evelyn hummed, propping herself on the counter with one hand. "In Smallville, no one knows the Kent Family better than me."
Is this what being a veteran is like?
A living fossil of Smallville really is built differently.
"Then I'll have to ask you to look after Joanna," Yale said helplessly. "I'll go to the storeroom to get the cinnamon powder."
"Go on, kid," Mrs. Evelyn chuckled cheerfully. "I'll have my granddaughter take you there. That little girl has been talking about you for a long time."
---
The storeroom was at the back of the shop.
Mrs. Evelyn sent her granddaughter—a girl with a golden-brown ponytail—to take Yale to get it.
"This way, Yale."
The girl walked ahead with a grin. "You're Yale Kent, the one who drew my uncle captain america? I super love your comics!"
"How do you know that?" Yale was somewhat surprised.
"Everyone in Smallville knows."
"..."
"Thanks for liking it." Yale smiled politely.
Without even thinking, it must have been some old farmer who couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Then as fan service, can you reveal to me how Uncle Ben is going to defeat the Gay Four in the undiscovered Amazonian jungle?" the girl asked curiously. "Can Uncle Ben's nephew really arrive in time to save him? I dream about Uncle Ben calling out to his nephew all the time now."
"Peter! Save me!" the girl shouted with a tragic expression, her ponytail swaying like a small banner. "How on earth did you draw it so passionate yet tragic, Yale?"
"Probably because the prototype is just someone very suitable to be drawn into a comic." Yale's gaze drifted.
"There really is a prototype?!" The girl's eyes lit up, and she reached out to pull Yale's cuff, leading him into the narrow aisle of the storeroom. "Can you tell me if he is—"
"Cinnamon powder?"
A cold voice came from behind.
Yale turned around and saw that Joanna had followed him in, standing at the entrance of the narrow aisle holding a bag of white sugar. Facing the light, her pretty face was dim and unclear in the shadow, only her pair of blue eyes burning faintly like cold flames.
"The cinnamon powder is on the second shelf," Mrs. Evelyn's granddaughter swallowed hard. "The third slot."
"Thanks for showing the way," Yale smiled at the girl. "From here on, we can carry things ourselves. My sister and I are strong. You can go help Mrs. Evelyn now; she might be very busy right now."
"After all, there might be a power outage tonight."
"Mm-hmm," the girl nodded quickly. "Yale, you be careful too. Mr. August's disaster risk map says there will be heavy rain tonight, so you and Joanna should be careful on the road."
"Of course, thanks for caring."
Yale waved, watching the girl flee the storeroom as if escaping.
The small room quieted down.
"Your navigation function is quite comprehensive," Yalewalked toward the shelf to get the bagged cinnamon powder. "You can spot the cinnamon powder at a glance."
"The storeroom structure is not complicated," Joannafollowed up, helping him take down the cinnamon powder.
"Do you come often?"
"Mm."
Yale couldn't help chuckling as he held the two bags of cinnamon powder in one hand.
"Any further instructions, procurement officer?"
"Candles and gloves, they aren't outside," Joanna added. "And screws, which Uncle asked for before leaving."
Yale nodded. With super speed and Super Vision working together, he swept the entire storeroom in an instant.
"Mission accomplished."
Shaking the clinking bags in his hand, Yale was about to pull the girl out of the storeroom, only to see Joanna's eyes hesitantly falling on a shelf.
A row of music boxes was displayed on the shelf, one of which was made into a small white rabbit with a red pom-pom glued to its ears.
Does she like this one?
Yale blinked, suddenly recalling Martha's instructions before leaving home.
...
The old mother pressed a neatly folded stack of small change onto the table.
"What's wrong?" He casually picked up a muffin and bit out a crescent shape.
"Let Joanna buy something she likes," Martha said. "Remember not to let her figure out it's pocket money."
"Mom, are we some kind of underground party?" He chewed the muffin and couldn't help chuckling. "Can't we just buy it directly?"
"This is called family," the old mother let out a helpless laugh. "If you give it to that child directly, she won't accept it."
...
Yale couldn't help chuckling.
Eight years ago, a ragged blonde little girl squatted in front of the refrigerator, her eyes filled only with a craving for food. But now, she was standing before him, and there were other things in her eyes as well.
"Yale?"
Joanna frowned, looking at the silent boy in puzzlement.
"Do you want it?" Yale suddenly leaned in.
"I don't want it."
"Then why were you looking at it for so long?"
"Not buying."
"Seven days no-questions-asked returns, let's buy it first."
"Which country's grocery store has a seven-day no-questions-asked return policy?"
"The Kent Principality." Yale shrugged.
The girl seemed amused by this sentence and smiled slightly.
"Yale," she said softly, "really, there's no need."
"Do you really not want it? If you don't, I'm going to take all the money and buy tee connectors instead," Yale pointed to the pile of metal pipes behind him. "Even I can't resist a man's romance."
...
"If you really waste money buying this," Joanna said softly, "I'll crush all your tee connectors into balls."
...
Yale, who was reaching out to grab the music box, inexplicably shivered.
Chapter 33: Cotton Candy.
The weather in Smallville changed on a dime.
When the two of them finished paying and walked out of the grocery store carrying bags of all sizes, the sun actually came out again, and the dry, hot October sunlight poured down once more.
The feeling of being recharged by the sun was simply fantastic.
Even...
Yale could see two figures in the distance.
A chestnut ponytail swept back and forth in the wind.
An angel had appeared!
Mona was also following closely by her side, and the two of them were standing in front of the ice cream station holding interview notebooks.
Come to think of it, if Joanna was Homelander and Elainewas a Seraph, then what could Mona be?
Satan?!
Yale pushed this terrifying conjecture back into the depths of his mind while inwardly cursing what on earth was going on in a place like Smallville.
"Is Elaine pretty?" A small hand tugged at his sleeve, and a voice said faintly, "You're staring at her again."
"Nonsense." Yale said with a straight face, "I was just thinking about what flavor of ice cream to buy. Do you want to eat some?"
"Not eating."
Here it comes again.
As expected, some things simply couldn't be discussed with this fellow.
Yale casually pulled out two dollars and turned directly toward the street stall behind him.
Caramel apples.
No one knew why anyone would sell this kind of thing in Smallville, but that didn't stop Yale from laying down two dollars to grab two candied apples to feed Joanna.
"Thank you for your patronage."
The old lady smiled and handed over two caramel apples pierced with bamboo skewers.
Yale casually handed one to Joanna.
"I didn't—"
"I bought it for myself, dummy. You can help me finish one by the way." Yale took a bite of the apple, his eyes lighting up. "Actually, it's quite delicious."
The girl was silent for a moment, but looking at Yale eating with relish, she finally couldn't help tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking out her pinkish-tender tongue tip to lick and eat it in small bites.
"..."
Feeling a bit guilty, Yale glanced away and brought Joannato find a bench at the intersection to sit down and bask in the sun.
---
"...Did you buy Mr. Weil's forecast map?"
"It's too expensive; I'd rather look at the weather bureau."
"The weather bureau is worth damn all."
"Jason bought the forecast map, and that very evening he moved everything out of the shed in advance. In the end, when the hail fell, he didn't suffer a single bit of loss. Don't you think that's miraculous?"
"Then what about those who didn't buy it?"
"Those who didn't buy it just had to pray for their own blessings."
"That's true... Sigh, when on earth is this year's drought going to end? Can't Mr. Weil make a prediction about that?"
"I heard he only cares about warning against disasters, not predicting good news."
"That's really quite wicked."
"If you've got the ability, don't buy it then. Anyway, he doesn't force buys or sales."
Sitting on the bench, Yale raised an eyebrow as he eavesdropped on the intelligence of the town's residents.
He had to admit that Super Hearing was extremely useful for gossip, making him even want to rename it Super Gossip.
For instance...
The forecast map.
This was the second time he had heard about this matter.
The first time was just now from the mouth of Mrs. Evelyn's little granddaughter, who said it was going to rain heavily later.
Just now he thought it was an early warning from the weather bureau, but now at the entrance of the hardware store behind the bench, several townspeople were also chatting idly about this matter.
And they were all talking about a guy named August Weil.
Yale narrowed his eyes.
If this guy could really foresee the time and place of disasters, then his risk map was indeed worth every penny for Smallville farmers who suffered greatly from natural disasters.
But...
Yale glanced at the sky.
The sun was blazing.
It looked nothing like it was going to rain.
A liar? A tech geek? Some meteorological company here to promote a new weather model?
"You're frowning?" Joanna's voice drifted over from the side.
Yale turned his head to look.
He saw that Joanna had already eaten half of the caramel apple, and the remaining half held in her hand was beginning to melt slightly under the sun, flowing down along the gaps between her fingers.
But this didn't prevent Joanna from still eating her food solemnly.
The way the girl ate always carried a nearly solemn earnestness, as if she held a certain reverence for the food itself that transcended mere physical appetite.
Perhaps because of her childhood in the laboratory, food was either a reward or a means; being able to eat simply because she wanted to eat was in itself a rare freedom.
"Is that so?" Yale smiled.
"Yes, just like Uncle always says, a fool who can't think things through."
"Can you stop always stabbing me with your words?" Yalecovered his forehead.
"No."
"Joanna." Yale suddenly said, "Did you have fun shopping today?"
"Happy." The girl spoke without reservation.
"Then do you have anything you want to say to me?" Yalenaturally put his arm around the girl's shoulder, "Like saying, 'Thank you, Brother Yale, I'm very happy today.'"
"Don't touch me with your hand."
"Doesn't this show how deep our sibling affection is?"
"Who's siblings with you."
"A cousin is still a sister. Come on, call me Brother Yale and let me hear it."
"Say another word, and I'll throw you into the irrigation ditch." The girl hissed lowly.
"How long has it been since you called me bro—" Yale was about to continue, but then he saw that the girl's eyes were already glowing in a rather abnormal way, as if one more word and she would flip this commercial street upside down.
So he could only shut his mouth very wisely.
"..."
Just like that, in silence, the sun slowly moved westward.
The elm trees on the roadside that had shed all their leaves were left with only bare branches, and when the wind blew, it felt like countless invisible hands scratching at the ground.
The people on the street gradually grew fewer.
The students were decorating the grand auditorium, and the elderly townspeople were too busy all afternoon to want to go out anymore.
"There used to be someone selling cotton candy here." Joanna suddenly said.
"What?"
"Cotton candy." Joanna looked at the dried-up fountain in the park, somewhat lost in thought. "Later on, he stopped selling it."
"A stick of cotton candy was also always missing from my desk every day when I came home from school."
"Didn't Santa Claus send you cotton candy anymore?" Yalefelt a bit guilty.
"Clearly it was you who gave it to me, and you always lied to me saying Santa Claus liked me, so he sent me cotton candy even when it wasn't Christmas." Joanna turned her head, her blue eyes reflecting the dried-up fountain, yet it seemed as if a vast blue sea emerged within them. "You always lie to me."
"Couldn't it have been bought by Clark?" Yale said solemnly, "I've always felt he's very suited to play Santa Claus."
"But Clark told me that you were the one who put it there." The corners of the girl's mouth curled up slightly. "Clarkdoesn't lie."
Clark the Snitch, I'll remember this.
Yale gritted his teeth.
Seven or eight years ago, back when Joanna had just started school.
The girl was extremely resistant to going to school, and in the end, it was Yale who patiently guided her with the story of Santa Claus and cotton candy, tricking the girl into going to school against her better judgment.
He thought she had forgotten long ago.
"Yale."
"Hmm?"
"Buy me a stick of cotton candy."
"Huh?"
The wind blew past the bell tower, and the clouds in the sky drifted leisurely, burying the sunlight.
"Just this?" Yale couldn't hold it together anymore. "You went through such a huge circle just for a stick of cotton candy? Besides, where on earth is there any cotton candy now? The old man moved to Metrop—"
"Look to the left."
"..."
Yale turned his head instinctively.
At the corner of the street.
A faded parasol was propped up under the sycamore tree.
The old man selling cotton candy was dozing off.
"How did he come back?" Yale was stunned.
"He came back last week," Joanna said. "His son chased him back from Metropolis."
"..."
"Alright, then what flavor do you want?"
"Pink."
Yale stood up, stretched lazily, walked forward, and woke the old man up.
There was no melodrama of old acquaintances recognizing each other.
So many years had passed, and of course the old man didn't recognize him now, only muttering things like young people really lacking observation skills while wrapping the sugar threads onto a wooden stick.
"Give me another blue and white one." Joanna stood behind him saying this while handing out a coin from her small wallet.
"You're going to eat two?"
"The other one is for you."
"..."
The cotton candy expanded circle by circle.
"Eat quickly." Yale quickly took the pink one and handed it to Joanna, adding offhandedly, "Cotton candy melts in a little while. This thing looks like a cloud when it hasn't melted, and like snot when it melts."
"You..."
"What about me? Am I disgusting?"
"Disgusting."
"You really know how to compliment people."
Defeated by shamelessness, Joanna chose to silently eat her cotton candy, letting the sugar threads draw out shiny strands at her lips that were snapped by the wind.
"Aren't those two from the Kent Family?" Someone across the street laughed.
"The Kent Family's daughter is so pretty."
Hearing these words loud and clear, Yale smiled and reached out to grab the hem of the girl's clothes.
"Let's go."
"Slow down."
"Then you walk faster."
"If I walk faster, the cotton candy will fall to the ground; don't waste food."
"The ones that fall on the ground go to Clark, as the Snitch deserves."
Joanna: "...?"
Yale smiled crookedly, just wanting to continue slandering...
"Whoosh—!"
"The direction of the wind changed?"
The hot wind blowing from the direction of the valley suddenly reversed in a single breath, turning into a cold wind that whipped the vendors' tents into a rustling clatter!
The young man narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky.
At the end of the horizon.
An iron-gray curtain was slowly closing along the horizon, flocks of birds startled into flight beneath the curtain.
"Are those chickadees?" Joanna was stunned. "Is it going to rain? The chickadees are running under the eaves."
"But the weather forecast said no rain today." Yalefrowned.
"Boom—!"
Thunder rolled.
The clouds churned, pressing lower and lower.
Chapter 34: Weather Forecast
Continuous heavy rain.
Beneath the eaves.
"Fly home?" Yale said.
"I don't have… the kind of force field you and Clark have." The girl whispered, lifting the bag of flour in her hand, "It can't block the rain, nor can it control the flour."
"That's true…" Yale scratched his head, looking at the sky, "Then I'll take the things back first and come back to pick you up?"
"…"
Joanna's expression turned resentful; she silently turned her head, a pair of azure eyes gazing through the rain curtain at the spire of the distant town church.
"Then we'll wait together." Yale couldn't help laughing, "You wouldn't think I'm going to abandon you, would you?"
"Yale…"
Joanna seemed to want to say something.
"Beep-beep-beep—!"
A four-seater Ford pickup truck stopped in front of the two of them.
"The Kent Family's." The car window rolled down, revealing a weathered old face. The old salted fish gentleman of Kansas laughed loudly, "Get in the car!"
"Mr. Zad?" Yale was surprised, "Why are you here?"
"Buying candles." Old Zad shrugged, "Otherwise, every drop of rain today would be wailing for the sun-dried fish at my house that won't dry."
"Then I'll have to trouble you, Mr. Zad." Yale couldn't help smiling, pushing Joanna into the car, "We have quite a lot of things."
"Snap—!"
The car door closed.
"Thanks."
Yale said while handing the blue-and-white marshmallow to Joanna's other hand, incidentally taking over the bag of flour the girl was carrying.
"Don't thank me, Yale." Old Zad whistled, "When your grandmother was alive, she always said the boys of the Kent Family were too polite."
"Our Kent Family," Yale leaned forward slightly, looking deadpan, "has been gentlemen for generations."
Except for Benjamin.
He added silently in his heart.
"Hahahaha, it's just a pity that Old Kent would have Ben—" Old Zad seemed even more unable to keep a straight face, but halfway through, he seemed to remember something.
He glanced at the silent girl in the rearview mirror holding two mostly melted marshmallows, and still chose to silently swallow the complaints in his heart about that bastard Benjamin.
Sometimes the elderly townspeople of Smallville were prone to this…
They always easily forgot that back then the Kent Familyhad a foul-mouthed, lazy bastard, and that that bastard had an elegant, pretty blonde daughter who looked like a noble young lady.
This led the old-timers of Smallville to often treat Joannaas Martha's biological daughter; after all, when Marthawas young, she was the daughter of a well-known lawyer in Metropolis. When Jonathan coaxed her back to the town, it caused quite a lively commotion in the then unpretentious town, and then even the two adopted boys all…
"Mr. Zad?"
"Ah? Sorry… Yale…" Old Zad cleared his throat, "When you get old, your brain easily goes single-thread. Once I start driving, I get too focused, especially with this heavy rain."
"Speaking of which, did you know it would rain today?" Yale blinked.
Old Zad was a stingy fellow, an iron rooster who saved every penny he could. Yet today he actually drove his gas-guzzling pickup truck out shopping.
It couldn't possibly be specifically to pick up him and Joanna, could it?
"Yeah, August Weil's weather map was right again." Old Zad said cheerfully, "He said there would be a torrential downpour after 3:30 this afternoon. I was thinking the weather station clearly reported sunny skies, but a torrential downpour really came."
"You bought it too?" Yale said casually.
"I was among the first batch to buy it." Old Zad grinned, revealing a row of teeth stained yellow by tobacco.
"Is it accurate?"
"Very accurate."
"There was a time before, August Weil predicted the hail and wind direction. If it weren't for him, my salted fish drying and blowing in the wind outside would have suffered."
"How did he do it?"
"I don't know either." Old Zad freed a hand to scratch his head, "But as long as you pay for the risk assessment service, someone will send the corresponding risk map every day."
"This is perhaps the disparity of the times, Yale. Old man Zad like you has farmed for twenty years and dried salted fish for twenty years in this lifetime, yet in the end, it's still not as good as a piece of paper drawn by an outsider." He sighed with a bit of awe, "Is this the power of technology?"
Heart rate seventy-nine.
Obviously an absolutely sincere truth from the heart.
But a weather map accurate to this degree couldn't be made even if all of NASA's satellites were dismantled and reassembled, right? Old Zad might not understand, but how could Yale not understand? This kind of prediction precision completely surpassed the limits of human meteorology.
A superpower to foresee the weather?
Just like Bob Rickman and Desiree, the 1991 meteor shower birthed another lucky person.
It's just that this one…
Is here to do good deeds?
Yale was thoughtful.
Although people were always used to packaging incomprehensible miracles as science and worshiping inexplicable monsters as prophets.
But at least from current data, this person named August Weil wasn't using his abilities to do anything harmful or malicious.
Of course, he also had to remain cautious about this conclusion; after all, Bob Rickman initially looked like just an ordinary land acquirer.
"What are you thinking about, Yale?" Old Zad looked at him from the rearview mirror.
"You drive really steadily."
"Save the flattery, no free salted fish today." Old Zad said irritably.
…
"Thanks, Mr. Zad."
Yale helped Joanna jump out of the car.
"Say hello to your dad for me!" Old Bob waved in the car window.
The old pickup truck swayed and disappeared at the end of the rain curtain.
"Yale! Joanna!"
The door was yanked open, and Clark rushed out, "You're finally back, are you okay? The rain outside is so heavy."
"Clark!"
Facing his brother's concern, Yale instead let out a low bark.
"…?! "
Clark was startled in his heart, widening his eyes as he watched the blonde youth walk toward him step by step.
Yale's expression was solemn, the howling storm fluttering behind him! His blonde messy hair was clearly wet and sticky against his forehead, but in those amber eyes of his burned a flame that made Clark's heartbeat accelerate!
It was as if…
Yale had lost control?! Because he didn't go to town to pick them up?! Or was it because he had already found out that he snuck a bite of that sundae in his fridge…
"Ya…"
"Snap—!"
"This is your gift."
Yale shoved the blue-and-white marshmallow, collapsed into an unidentified object, into Clark's open mouth.
"What a snitch deserves." The blonde youth wore a benevolent expression, "Next time you go around spreading my secrets everywhere, what I stuff won't be in your mouth."
"Mmm-mmm-mmm—!"
Clark's protest was tightly plugged by a mouthful of marshmallow.
"You have no right to protest." Yale hummed, "Swallow it, no chewing allowed."
"…"
"Gulp…"
Clark swallowed it in one gulp, then thoughtfully licked his lips.
"Actually, it's quite delicious, it has the taste of clouds and rainwater." He rubbed his chin, looking at the half-pink marshmallow in Joanna's hand, "Joanna, are you still eating?"
"He bought this." Joanna coldly shoved the pink marshmallow into Yale's hand, "Ask him."
Clark looked at Yale.
"This one won't do, Clark." Yale shrugged, "This one fell on the ground."
Chapter 35: Gotham Is Above, We Are Below.
"Back already?" Watching the three children file in, Martha's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Did you buy everything?"
"Got everything."
Yale casually handed a large bag of things onto the table.
"Then—"
Martha blinked, glancing aside at Joanna, who was drying her hair with a towel.
"Of course." Yale grinned.
"What are you talking about?" Clark leaned over from the side, grinning. "Is there something else I don't know about?"
"Considering you're the Snitch-Man, I won't tell you." Yalepatted his shoulder. "Reform yourself well, Clark."
"I am not the Snitch-Man!"
"Then what are you?"
"I'm your older brother." Clark wore a serious expression.
"Then did you say thank you?" Yale said equally seriously. "I shoved my blue-and-white flavored cotton candy to you, and left the pink one that fell on the ground for myself. Why didn't you thank your younger brother?"
"...Uh... Thank you?"
"Stop teasing Clark, Yale." Martha smiled helplessly. "You clearly know your brother has zero guard against you."
"Mom!"
Clark was somewhat frantic.
"Bang..."
The door opened, and an exhausted Jonathan walked in.
"What are you arguing about, Clark?" The old farmer said irritably. "I could hear your yelling from outside the door."
"Yale keeps tricking me into spilling things, Dad." Clark's eyes lit up. "Quick, help me lecture him."
"Yale!" Jonathan said angrily, "How could you do this?"
"You clearly know your brother isn't very smart, yet you still tease him?!"
Clark: "..."
He seriously suspected he was adopted.
Wait... It seemed he really was adopted?
Clark fell into silence.
Yale held back a laugh, then looked at the thing Jonathanwas holding in his hand. "What is that?"
"This..."
Prompted by Yale, the smile on Jonathan's face suddenly faded quite a bit. He rubbed his chin wearily, seemingly organizing his words.
It took him a long while to speak.
"Sent from the Kansas Climate Security Fund." He sighed. "A notice regarding subscribing to disaster risk prediction maps."
"How much a year?" Yale asked.
"Three thousand dollars, I suppose, including risk assessment and priority queuing rights for the guarantee fund when natural disasters occur. They didn't say this explicitly, but I can tell that's what it means." Jonathan said. "Three thousand dollars is not a small amount for us, but it's not like we can't pull it together."
"Not buying it?"
"Buy it." Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Although I don't believe an outsider understands the weather better than a farmer who has farmed this land for thirty years, the facts are the facts. I misjudged the last hail, and the same goes for this heavy rain. Both the Jensen family and old Bob made preparations in advance according to Weil's map."
"Perhaps I underestimated the speed of technological development." The old farmer let out a long sigh.
"Then buy it, Dad." Yale pondered, "I'll pay."
"Yale." Jonathan sounded somewhat helpless. "It's not that I can't bear to spend the money, I just..."
"Trust your own eyes more?" Yale couldn't help but smile.
"...Am I that pedantic?" Jonathan scolded with a smile. "Just what do you, child, make of your..."
"Knock, knock, knock!"
The door was knocked on.
Visitors rarely came to Kent Farm in weather like this.
"Who is it?"
Clark, who had been withdrawn on the side, suddenly snapped back to his senses. Having accepted his mission as a tool person, he quickly went to open the door.
"Lana?" Clark froze.
He saw a completely soaked girl standing under the porch.
Her brownish-red long hair was plastered against her cheeks, and her water-blue eyes were washed exceptionally clear by the rain. She was holding an umbrella in her left hand.
But in a rainstorm, an umbrella is the most meaningless thing. No matter how she shielded herself, the girl's beige sweater was soaked through from the shoulders to the cuffs. Only the cowhide envelope she clutched tightly in her arms looked a bit dry.
"Clark." The girl panted, "I..."
"Come in first!" Clark hurriedly turned sideways to make way for the doorway, while turning back to shout, "Mom, someone needs a towel."
"No need, Clark." Lana shook her head. "I'm just here to find—"
"What is it?" Yale casually dragged the girl into the house.
The dry warmth drove away much of the chill on Lana's body.
"Yale." Seeing Yale, the cheer captain let out a sigh of relief and handed over the cowhide envelope in her arms. "This was mailed to my house this afternoon. The recipient written on it is you. It's probably because I accidentally left my home address before, and the people at the publishing house couldn't reach you, so they mailed the letter to my place."
"Publishing house?" Yale casually took the envelope, only to see a familiar line of ornate script on the kraft paper.
"It seems to be an invitation to a Gotham charity gala." Lana said in a low voice. "Your comic entered this year's nomination for the Wayne Cultural Foundation's Cultural Gold Award. The publishing house hopes you can go attend the award ceremony, and they said there's also a charity gala."
Gotham? Wayne?
Yale was somewhat surprised.
If he remembered correctly, his publishing house was Metropolis JCA Galaxy, affiliated under the Daily Planet.
How did it get involved with Wayne? Lex Luthor would make more sense.
Could it be that that brat Nightwalker tracked him down?
"Did you ride your bike from the town?" Yale nonchalantly handed the letter to Clark beside him. "With rain this heavy."
"Yeah." Lana said cautiously, "I figured this kind of thing might be quite important and didn't dare delay it until tomorrow."
"Besides, it hadn't started raining yet when I left." The girl twisted her cuffs somewhat aggrievedly. "It only started halfway through my ride."
Looking at the bicycle parked under the porch behind the aggrieved captain, and her completely drenched sweater.
"Come in and have a cup of hot tea." Clark winked at Yaleand said, "My mom's black tea..."
"I..."
A trace of hope flashed in Lana's eyes, but when her gaze glanced at the figure at the stairway corner behind the boys, she couldn't help but panic a little.
Joanna leaned against the stair banister, her eyes deep and dark.
"I'd better go back first. My aunt is waiting for me to eat." Lana turned and rushed toward her bicycle. "Yale, remember to check the invitation! There are dates and itineraries inside! It seems there's also a check for travel subsidies!"
"...Yale, you have no heart." Clark exclaimed, "You wouldn't even give away a hot towel."
"Scram."
Yale snapped irritably.
"Sigh..."
Clark let out a long sigh, daring only to glance out of the corner of his eye as Joanna silently disappeared from the stairway corner.
"..."
"Clark, do you believe in gravity?" Yale asked abruptly.
"Huh?"
"Read more comics." Yale said expressionlessly, "The greater the gravitational force between you and the second female lead, the greater the repulsive force with the female lead. This is a puberty mutation of Newton's third law."
"What kind of comic is this?" The simple-hearted town youth was stunned.
"my uncle captain america—Brand New Day." Yale patted the youth's shoulder. "Look at you, you just don't like reading books."
"You completely made this up on the spot!" Clarkcomplained.
Yale couldn't be bothered with him.
Casually taking the envelope, he opened it and pulled out the card inside.
—WE ALWAYS BUILD THEM HANGING UPSIDE DOWN. THEN TURN AND PLACE THEM. WE'RE BENEATH Gotham.
(Built upside down, flipped to exist. Gotham is above, we are below.)
The font had black-grained gold printing, with a snowy owl dark emblem in the background.
The date was marked for next Saturday night, and the location was the Emperor Penguin Banquet Hall of the Iceberg Lounge.