---
Natasha's expression shifted into something more serious, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You really do know me," she said.
Lin Feng smirked and turned away with a shrug. I know a lot more than you think… including how you'll disappear from the world stage in a few years.
He didn't say that aloud, of course.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gestured at the sleek sidearm Natasha held casually by her hip. "Put away that fire stick. Honestly, it wouldn't even scratch an itch."
With that, he casually returned to the living room. The pizza box she'd brought—undoubtedly laced with something less than savory—landed in the trash can with a thud.
It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Natasha Romanoff didn't deliver food. Not unless it came with a side of sedatives or truth serum. While those substances didn't affect Lin Feng in the slightest, thanks to his Kryptonian physiology, he wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks—or play along with spy games.
Still… he had to admit, the famous Black Widow did have an impressive figure. Not that it swayed him. Much.
Natasha followed him inside, holstering her weapon. She sank onto the opposite couch, crossing one leg over the other as she studied Lin Feng in silence. Her gaze was focused and unreadable, but Lin Feng had seen this dance before.
"Alright," he said with a smirk, "you've jumped through a lot of hoops just to knock on my door. What's S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me this time?"
His eyes briefly flicked toward the neighboring villa across the street—his Kryptonian vision didn't miss a thing.
"Sixty-five agents," he said calmly, "fully armed. Sniper on the third floor. Heat sensors in the bushes. You really need to teach your people how to hide better."
Natasha's face darkened. "How do you know that?" she demanded, her tone sharp.
Lin Feng didn't answer. Instead, his gaze slid over her again, and he added with a teasing smirk, "Black lace? You've got excellent taste, Agent Romanoff."
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and for a moment she raised her arms to cover herself—before catching herself and laughing it off with effortless charm.
"So… you can see through things," she said with a sultry lilt, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. "Tell me, little brother—do you like black lace?"
Lin Feng's expression soured slightly. He enjoyed a good flirt, sure—but he wasn't a fan of obvious manipulation.
"Agent Romanoff," he said evenly, "cut the act. Why are you here? Is this some kind of romantic intel-gathering operation? Or are you really here to figure out if I'm S.H.I.E.L.D. material?"
Her smile faded, replaced with something closer to sincerity.
"Alright," she said. "You're right. It was Fury who sent me."
She didn't bother sugar-coating it. This wasn't a mission she could win with charm and subterfuge—not against someone who could level buildings and read electromagnetic frequencies.
"Fury believes we need extraordinary individuals on our side," she continued. "There are threats in the world that the public can't imagine—things coming that even we're not prepared for."
Lin Feng leaned back, unimpressed.
"Didn't Tony give you my answer already? I'm not interested in playing join-the-team with your super-club."
"This isn't just about you," Natasha replied, rising to her feet. "It's about the world. You're not like Tony. He's brilliant, but you—" she tossed a small card onto the coffee table "—you're dangerous. And powerful. That makes you essential."
She turned to leave, pausing only to give him a sideways glance. "That's my direct contact line. No tracking, no surveillance. Just… think about it."
She winked, then disappeared into the night like a shadow melting into darkness.
Lin Feng stared at the card in silence. It was still warm from her touch. He didn't plan to call—but he didn't throw it away, either.
He wasn't interested in joining anyone's club. He liked his freedom. He moved when he wanted, helped who he wanted, and didn't answer to any committee or government. Maybe, down the line, he'd consider working with them as a private contractor—you pay, I save the day. But for now? He was flying solo.
---
Later that Week...
Nick Fury's little visit left Tony Stark visibly unsettled. The idea of government oversight didn't sit well with him. More than that, Tony had begun to recognize a critical vulnerability in his armor system.
"What if someone breaks into my house again?" Tony ranted during one of their casual meetups. "Do I say, 'Hold on a second, let me get changed like it's a costume party'?"
He waved excitedly at a silver briefcase in his hand. "Not anymore. Behold—Mark 5. Portable, compact, stylish. Armor-to-go."
Lin Feng blinked. "It's… a suitcase."
Tony grinned. "A suitcase that unfolds into a suit of armor. Come on, that's cool."
Lin Feng gave him a thumbs up. "That's fair. Very cool."
But while Tony was busy engineering portable armor, Lin Feng was working on something else entirely—his reputation.
Since his confrontation with Obadiah, the name Superman had become a buzzword in every corner of the city. Dressed in black tights with a sweeping cloak and a bold silver S emblazoned on his chest, he had become a symbol of hope—and controversy.
He didn't wait for the police. He didn't ask for permission.
Wherever there was danger—be it a collapsing building, a high-speed chase, or a hostage crisis—Lin Feng was there first. Fast, decisive, and almost mythically strong. He became the gray zone's unpredictable savior, adored by citizens and quietly resented by certain authorities.
His feats filled headlines. His daring rescues looped endlessly on news broadcasts.
Superman Saves School Bus from Cliffside Fall.
Superman Lifts Tanker in Raging Storm.
Superman Shields Children from Chemical Plant Explosion.
The footage was always shaky, often blurry, but unmistakably powerful.
That's when Susan came knocking again.
The blonde, sharp-witted reporter had become a regular visitor. She had a simple request: "Let me follow you. Let me shoot your rescues properly."
The two struck a deal. She would document his heroic moments in high-resolution clarity, and in return, she'd boost his image—and his growing prestige score.
Susan didn't disappoint. Every photo she captured made Lin Feng look like a modern god. Her angles were cinematic, her timing perfect. She knew how to frame him not just as a hero, but as a symbol.
Before long, they were together almost every day.
They'd developed a rhythm. Rescue. Photos. Coffee. Repeat.
The city loved it. So did the internet.
Superman forums sprang up overnight. Fan edits, reaction videos, and even comics drawn by children flooded cyberspace.
Meanwhile, Susan's own career soared. Her exclusives on Superman became the talk of the CBB newsroom. She was showered with offers, bonuses, and accolades.
But beyond the professional success, something else was growing between them.
On one particular evening, after saving a malfunctioning school bus full of kids, Lin Feng and Susan sat together in their usual corner of a quiet Midtown café. She was flipping through the latest photos on her tablet.
One showed Lin Feng cradling the bus effortlessly above his head.
Another captured a candid moment of him kneeling, surrounded by smiling children.
And then—her favorite—a shot of him lifting off into the sky, his cape billowing, silhouetted against the sunset.
"These are… amazing," Lin Feng admitted, genuinely moved. "You're seriously talented, Susan."
She looked up, her expression soft. "Lin… every time I see you do what you do, I'm amazed all over again. You're incredible."
He scratched his head sheepishly. "Eh… not that incredible."
Inside, he was screaming: Heck yeah, I'm the strongest guy alive!
Susan took a sip of her coffee, then hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the table. She looked at him—then away—then back again.
"What is it?" Lin Feng asked, noticing her sudden nervous energy.
Susan bit her lip. "After work tomorrow… would you want to go shopping with me? Maybe… catch a movie after?"
She stared down at her coffee, face flushing pink.
Lin Feng blinked.
Her heart was racing. He could hear it. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Was she nervous? Excited? Sick?
And then it clicked.
"You're… asking me on a date?" he asked.
Susan's eyes widened. Her whole face turned red.
"I—I have to turn in the photos! Bye!" she blurted, then bolted out of the café like a startled deer, leaving her half-drunk coffee and a bewildered Lin Feng behind.
"Damn," Lin Feng muttered, staring after her.
Ding!
The system's voice crackled in his mind, full of irritation. "Host, your steel-plated obliviousness is truly next-level."
"Huh?"
"She likes you, genius! That was her asking you out!"
"Hey, don't blame me!" Lin Feng protested. "I've been single for 22 years! I've never even been on a date!"
The system snorted. "Yeah, and you say that like it's a badge of honor. You need help."
Pop!
A book appeared in his hand. The cover read in bold, golden letters: Dating Tips: For the Terminally Dense.
"Cost you 100 prestige points," the system said cheerfully.
"You said it was a gift!"
"I lied."
By now, the café was closing. Streetlights flickered on outside, and the city buzzed with its usual night rhythm. Lin Feng stepped into the cool air, his mind full of Susan.
Her laughter. Her kindness. Her curiosity. Her stunning green eyes.
She was… beautiful. Inside and out.
He realized they'd become something more than friends without even noticing it.
They had rituals, inside jokes, shared dreams. The boundary lines had already started to blur.
Was he falling in love?
Lin Feng stood under a streetlamp, pulled out his phone, and stared at her contact.
He typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Finally, he sent:
"After work tomorrow—I'll pick you up."
Then, with a grin, he soared into the sky, leaving streaks of silver and black across the stars.