Chapter 59: A Puppy by the Road Suddenly Gets Kicked

It was already afternoon when Superman came to visit Ehlers. After all, he was a regular corporate worker and couldn't just take a day off with the excuse of "my friend isn't replying to my messages, so I need to go check on him," though forced paid slacking and leaving a little early were entirely acceptable options.

By the time the two finished chatting, time had effortlessly slipped into the evening. Ehlers changed back into his human form, and Superman, startled and fully prepared for anything, also calmed his racing thoughts. They were right at the doorway, about to exchange polite farewells, when Ehlers' upstairs neighbor walked out onto the balcony, yawning, and took in the scene. With a hint of surprise, the neighbor called out, "Oh, Superman's still here? Leaving already? Since you rarely visit, aren't you going to stay for dinner or something?"

"..."

Ehlers and Superman exchanged a glance, and Superman hurriedly said, "No, I really shouldn't."

He made a motion to take off into flight right then and there, but Ehlers' long-dormant social instincts suddenly stirred. It felt a bit lacking in basic manners to chase a guest away right at dinnertime, so he proactively spoke up, "Wait, Bruce Wayne sent me a recipe a few days ago..."

Before he could even finish his sentence, Superman—who had already hovered a dozen centimeters off the ground—came crashing back down with a thud. First, he somewhat awkwardly used the tip of his red boot to smooth over the dent he had made in the ground, and then he lowered his voice to ask, "You had Bruce—our investor—teach you how to cook?!"

"I meant Bruce Wayne's butler," Ehlers replied calmly. "Apologies, I couldn't recall the word 'butler' for a moment."

Superman: "..."

He stared for a long time without being able to tell whether Ehlers was doing it on purpose or not. However, trying to fly away now would look a bit too deliberate and cold. He thought for a moment, hesitated, and said, "Well, alright then. Actually, I'm quite curious about their household recipes too."

Who wouldn't be curious about what a billionaire eats at home every day?

His explanation shouldn't sound too abrupt, right?

Superman raised his head to look at Ehlers' upstairs neighbor, adopting an upright posture and an upright expression as he stepped back through the doorway, mirroring how he had come out.

This time, however, he really couldn't sit comfortably on the sofa and watch Ehlers cook all by himself. Fortunately, "reading the recipe" turned out to be a brilliant excuse. He followed Ehlers all the way into the kitchen, where the two of them stood side by side, marveling repeatedly over *Alfred Pennyworth’s Exquisite Recipes*. If there happened to be a second transmigrator present here, they would surely feel that the legendary old butler's shortbread was about to conquer the universe.

However, a gap always exists between ideals and reality.

Specifically, Ehlers' kitchen lacked the necessary ingredients.

It didn't take long for Superman to transition from marveling at the recipe to marveling at Ehlers' kitchen: "What on earth do you usually eat... You do need to eat, right?"

"I just... Ah, fine." Ehlers twitched the corner of his mouth, holding the recipe—which contained far too many specialized culinary terms and was honestly quite hard to decipher. "I'll go ask the neighbor."

"Don't." Superman grabbed his arm, then quickly let go. "Sorry, give me five minutes."

He picked up the recipe, transformed into a streak of red and blue light, and shot out of Ehlers' apartment.

Five minutes later, he dashed back the exact same way, stopping dead in front of Ehlers with a supermarket shopping bag in hand: "Bought these from other countries. Let me see—cream, powdered sugar, tomatoes, basil... Oh, that discounted dragon fruit was something I picked up on the fly while passing through Southeast Asia. Do you need anything else?"

Ehlers: .

He shook his head hesitatingly, finding it rather hard to imagine what kind of routines Superman maintained while flying around the world every day. When ordinary people compare prices across different stores, they at most check the three supermarkets down the street; Superman, on the other hand, could directly calculate exchange rates across three different countries and head straight to wherever was most cost-effective...

Actually, in theory, a Yellow Lantern ring could do that too.

However, Ehlers couldn't quite get past his own psychological barrier. Not everyone can casually walk into a supermarket in full uniform as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Superman's public image had been exceptionally approachable from the very beginning; people had long since grown accustomed to seeing him wave to pedestrians from the sky, rescue kittens stuck in trees, and occasionally wait in line for a burger or a pizza. Presumably, no one would care if Superman specifically flew to a foreign country's shopping mall to buy groceries just to maintain his cover. From that perspective, he certainly deserved to save money.

Lost in these random trains of thought, Ehlers absentmindedly watched as Superman cleared off a space on the empty kitchen counter and arranged a bunch of bottles and jars that Ehlers himself would probably never use in a lifetime. Right at that moment, the alarm Ehlers had pre-set on his phone went off.

Ehlers felt a jolt in his chest, furrowed his brow, and said to Superman, "Oh no... I almost forgot that Gale and Ophelia are getting out of school."

Why is the quiet time of living alone always so fleeting?!

Superman: "..."

He had genuinely thought an alien invasion of Earth was underway.

He couldn't yet comprehend how precious those quiet moments of a single father enjoying solitude at home truly were, nor could he empathize with Ehlers setting an alarm specifically for it. Still, he could tell that Ehlers' mood instantly plummeted the moment the alarm rang. The dog in the living room was also startled awake by the sound; it yawned, ambled over to Ehlers, and nudged Ehlers' hand with its massive head.

Ehlers gave its head a vigorous rub—this stress-relief routine clearly wasn't a first-time occurrence, as both man and dog were exceptionally practiced at it. The very next second, the Bernese Mountain Dog flipped over onto its back, exposing its belly for anyone to rough up. After a few rounds of intimate interaction modeled on an old married couple's daily ritual, Bob shook out its coat, stood up, and happily trotted off to fetch a toy for a game of catch with Ehlers. However, before the dog could move, Ehlers said, "Stop, Bob. We have a guest today."

Bob sat its bulky backside right there in the kitchen, which looked cramped by comparison, and tilted its head to size up Superman. After a moment, it suddenly spoke in human language: "The Lord of Destiny, huh? Well, what do you know, it's Superman! That's a rare visitor!"

"..."

Why is every single member of this household so bizarre?

Superman smiled at it amiably, while Bob pulled back the corners of its mouth to bare its canine teeth—Superman had never owned a dog and couldn't quite tell whether it was showing goodwill or not. From out of nowhere, Ehlers produced a staff materialized by his Yellow Lantern ring and gave the Bernese Mountain Dog's fluffy rear end a firm poke. Bob yelped, scrambled up, and scurried away in a clumsy retreat.

Superman took a deep breath, confirming that Bob had indeed wanted to take a bite out of him earlier, likely because playtime had been canceled. Still maintaining an optimistic mindset, he asked Ehlers, "Does that mean it's too late to cook using conventional methods now?"

"Microwave instant meals would be fast enough," Ehlers pointed to the shortbread section of *Alfred’s Exquisite Recipes*, "but not for making this."

Superman glanced at the spot where Ehlers' finger rested, slowly brewing a burst of heat vision with the solemn air of a warrior about to march into battle: "No worries, we still have unconventional methods."

***

That, in short, was why Gale and Ophelia found an unexpected Superman cooking in their kitchen when they came home from school, with Bob looking thoroughly dejected.

Even so, the two children still couldn't bring themselves to say, "We understand everything now."

In fact, even as Ophelia sat at the dining table, staring at the Wayne Manor-equivalent dinner spread before her, she remained somewhat dazed. She didn't harbor any grand pursuits regarding culinary pleasures; as long as it filled her stomach, it was enough. Furthermore, she always remembered who had saved her life in the wilderness and who had brought her hot dogs when she was starving, so she didn't find the food—which was a few tiers higher than usual—particularly astonishing.

Yet, sitting right across from her was Superman... Superman... Ehlers' friend...

The protector of Metropolis sat up straight at the table, looking like a meticulously sculpted work of art, making even the wooden stool beneath him seem as though it were glowing. Ehlers was also far more solemn than usual, with his shirtsleeves neatly rolled up, as if the surface in front of him wasn't a dining table, but rather a conference table for an international summit.

Ophelia ultimately drifted into a daze. There was a strange, unspoken tacit understanding between the two adults that she couldn't quite grasp—an understanding that kept them completely silent about the root cause of how things had ended up this way. The excuse of "coming over to a friend's place for dinner" carried a veneer of perfunctoriness that even an eleven-year-old child could see through. At the same time, their interactions held an overly elaborate politeness that only heightened the undercurrents swirling beneath the calm surface.

A few minutes later, Gale kicked Ophelia's foot under the table and handed over his phone. On the screen was a forum interface she found terribly familiar—one her classmates had just introduced her to that afternoon. The content of the newest thread was striking:

[Superman bought a ton of stuff this afternoon! Is he planning to cook dinner for a friend?]

[According to netizen summaries, our known but incomplete Superman grocery list includes: two dragon fruits from Bali, a bag of basil from India, three local American tomatoes, a roasted chicken from Australia, a bag of low-gluten flour, two sticks of butter, a large box of steak, and five lemons gifted by a netizen's mother...]

[Lmao, why does it feel like Superman never cooks, and is suddenly trying to start from scratch? I just have no idea where in the world he ran off to in order to cook for this friend, but whoever it is, they must be very important.]

[I'm betting fifty cents that the person sitting across from him at the table is another superhero or an alien ambassador.]

[...Why would an alien ambassador visiting Earth make Superman cook for them?! He'd be better off just selling his looks (not really).]

Ophelia: "..."

Her chewing motion slowly ground to a halt. Half of the food listed in that forum thread was currently inside her mouth.

The netizens were completely clueless about the truth.

The person who genuinely didn't cook was actually someone else entirely!

As for why Superman would go to the home of someone who didn't cook to do the cooking... the people eating this meal were equally bewildered, their brains practically on the verge of exploding from trying to figure it out without a single clue.

Because everyone had their own preoccupations, this rare dinner party concluded amidst a thoroughly bizarre atmosphere. Ehlers cleared the dishes into the kitchen, and Gale tried to slip back to his room to work on his fan art drafts, but Superman called out to him: "Gale, hello, sorry to interrupt. After discussing it with Ehlers, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Here it comes!

Ophelia instantly perked up, suspecting that Superman had actually been drawn here because of Gale carrying the reputation of an international gang leader. After all, her guardian wouldn't actively invite anyone to stay over, and Superman didn't look like the type to randomly drop in on people's homes, so it had to be Gale's fault.

Gale paused in his tracks, turned around, and silently observed Superman. Stripped of all those flashy little accessories and weapons he usually wore, with his hair neatly combed, he looked remarkably well-behaved when he stood quietly making eye contact with someone. Superman thought both his hair color and eye color were quite endearing, though Ophelia's appearance certainly gave him an even more favorable impression.

All in all, Ehlers' two children each possessed their own unique traits.

After a long silence, Gale asked flatly, "What is it?"

"It's about the television series you're currently producing," Superman said, clasping his hands in front of him with a tone far gentler than he had anticipated. "I'm not sure if you've considered the potential consequences once it airs. For instance, Lex Luthor—he isn't as simple as he appears on the surface."

A flash of surprise quickly crossed Gale's eyes, clearly caught off guard that Superman wanted to talk to him about this.