A young rich man like Lex, and Clark, the son of a Kansas farmer.
The reason why they became friends could be traced back to the car accident.
It's a well-known fact that, in human interaction, first impressions are very important.
Clark was Lex's saviour, and he had a close relationship with the other party's godfather.
The two easily developed a favourable impression through several encounters.
Later, in the course of their time together, their friendship rapidly warmed up -- this may sound strange.
Both Lex and Clark were self-absorbed boys who had few friends, so there was no lack of common topics.
Therefore, the proud and conceited rich second generation, together with the gentle-natured farmer's son, gradually became close friends.
Having said that, Luke had to sigh.
Superman always seemed to attract the attention of the rich, from Lex Luthor to Bruce Wayne.
One was a capitalist in Metropolis; the other was the tycoon of Gotham.
The only thing they had in common, except for money, was that they had an unusual relationship with Clark Kent.
Then again, Superman had a journalist girlfriend whose father was a Pentagon general. He was the perfect template for a winner in life.
But it was understandable. After all, it took the sacrifice of an entire planet of his fellow citizens to get this luck.
Lex left the villa, drove a brand-new sports car to Kent's door, and honked twice.
It didn't take long for Clark, with two dark circles under his eyes, to appear in front of him.
"Get in."
Lex, wearing sunglasses, raised his chin.
"It's a rare weekend, and you're just sleeping at home? Can't you be a bit more energetic?"
Clark smiled bitterly. He was busy with his schoolwork and football team training during the day.
At night, in his Superman uniform, he ran from Kansas to Metropolis to fight criminals and punish evil.
His schedule was packed for 24 hours a day, so he had a serious lack of sleep.
If Kryptonians weren't physically strong and basking in the sun could replenish his energy, he would have died standing.
"Come on, Lex, I'm not interested in those parties, and I don't want to meet other girls."
Clark sat helplessly in the passenger seat. This new friend of his had been quite preoccupied with his relationship lately.
He not only held parties and introduced people but also taught him all kinds of tricks to pick up girls.
Unfortunately, Clark was the innocent type.
He was completely unimpressed by the hot girls with short shorts and skirts, twirling their tiny waists. He only had Lana in mind.
"Clark?! Don't you want to enrich your life? They would also stop calling you a 'nerd'."
Lex said with a smile.
"I took the opportunity of the equestrian competition in town to ask Lana out for you."
A bored Clark suddenly looked like he was high on caffeine. His eyes widened as he asked, "An equestrian competition?"
"That's right, didn't you know? Lana was the champion of the equestrian competition in town for three years in a row, and she also represented Kansas in an international championship in Metropolis."
Lex confidently chuckled.
"If you can do well in this competition? She'll definitely be impressed."
But Clark didn't look surprised; he just scratched his head and said, "But I don't know how to ride a horse."
"..."
Lex's cheerful voice came to a screeching halt.
How could someone with a farm and pastures at home not ride a horse?
"There's three days before the race; you can learn."
Lex went to great lengths to help Clark out.
"I can be your riding instructor."
Seeing Lex so positive, Clark couldn't help but feel a little touched.
He wondered if he should ask his older cousin for a few days off to learn horsemanship temporarily.
"I didn't know you could ride a horse? Do those aristocratic private schools teach that too?"
Clark curiously asked.
"Golf, equestrian, skiing, fencing ... I took classes."
Lex seemed to think of something and spoke in a low voice, "My father was very demanding; he wanted me to do my best in everything."
"So, sitting next to you is an equestrian master, a professional skier, and ... a fencing master."
...
...
East Nepal, Lukla airstrip.
A Gulfstream jet sat quietly on the runway. An old man with grey hair stood at the entrance to the lowered ramp, gazing into the distance as if waiting for some traveller to return home.
He was wearing a handcrafted suit, a pair of oxford leather shoes under his feet, with his hair immaculately combed and a distinctly British accent.
After a long while, a figure finally appeared on the empty runway.
The other party walked towards the passenger plane without hindrance.
This was a young man who looked like a vagrant, and despite the grime and dirt on his face, his eyes were extraordinarily bright, giving him a sense of resoluteness.
"Master Wayne, you've been gone a long time."
The old man spoke in a chiding tone while holding back his inner joy.
"You look very fashionable. Apart from the mud."
That's right.
This travel-stained vagrant was Gotham's favourite son, Bruce Wayne, who had disappeared for many years.
He started travelling the world a long time ago to experience life in the underworld. Even Alfred, the old butler, was unaware of his whereabouts.
It was not until a few days ago that the other party learned that Bruce Wayne was in Nepal.
"Long time no see, Alfred."
The vagrant named 'Bruce Wayne' smiled, happy to see someone he was close to.
In the time he had spent travelling the world, he experienced and learnt a lot of things.
The League of Assassins taught him how to arm himself and build a fearsome image.
Although, the ninja master and Bruce Wayne didn't share the same philosophy.
But the latter absorbed the best and discarded the worst, perfecting the inner workings for himself.
"What is this? Superman?"
Bruce took a shower on the jet and changed into a fresh outfit.
It had been a long time since he had experienced what it was like to feel clean.
"Metropolis's new ... superhero. They said he could fly and lift a truck with one hand. Quite amazing."
Alfred glanced at the newspaper and replied.
"Master Wayne, a lot has happened in the years you've been away."
Bruce's brows were slightly furrowed, his attention drawn to the red cloak in the newspaper.
'A flying Superman?'
"Like what?"
Bruce, looking back, casually asked.
"For example, legally, you're deceased."
Alfred shrugged his shoulders and humorously said, "You have been missing for seven years. Everyone in Gotham thought that the only heir to the Wayne family died for various strange reasons."
"So, my return to Gotham is tantamount to performing a miracle, coming back from the dead?"
Bruce tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn't care about these details.
Before he left, the proud son of Gotham passed on the entirety of his parents' vast legacy to the old butler.
Although, Wayne enterprises fell into the hands of those board members.
But there was no difficulty in taking it out whenever he wanted to.
"Is Gotham still as abysmal as ever?"
After a while, Bruce withdrew his distractions and asked the question that concerned him most.
"Gotham has never changed, Master Wayne."
Alfred replied.
"Then it's time for some changes."
Bruce said, looking at the floating clouds through the window.
...
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