"Nice work!"
"Bronze, that speech was fantastic!"
"America needs heroes like you!"
"Bronze, your image fits our company's products perfectly—interested in an endorsement deal...?"
As Qi Li came down off the stage, a number of men in suits greeted him warmly.
He answered each of them politely.
His agent Monica was backstage.
After exchanging business cards with the man interested in an endorsement and setting a time to meet, the woman—in her thirties, with mixed Latin American features, and still carrying herself well—came clicking over on her heels and quickly reached Qi Li's side, saying with great satisfaction:
"Qi Li, your speech just now was fantastic! Right as you finished, your approval rating went up one point five percent."
As she spoke, Monica handed him a tablet.
On the screen, his real approval rating—backed by Vought's data—was climbing at a striking angle.
For the superheroes of this world, popularity was the measure of their worth.
The higher the approval rating, the greater the commercial value. The greater the commercial value, the more it proved you were a proper superhero—and in the end, it could even get you into the Super Seven.
Yes.
As the most famous superhero team, the Super Seven did not select on how powerful your abilities were, or how much crime you had fought, or how many people you had saved.
They looked at exactly one thing.
Your popularity, your commercial value, how much profit you could bring in.
When Qi Li had first understood this, it had completely overturned his worldview.
He could only say that a capitalist society was a capitalist society—it could turn even superheroes into an industry to play with.
In that respect, the capitalists of Marvel and DC were still badly unqualified.
Why hadn't you developed this industry?
Back in World War II, Captain America's tour with that big perfect ass of his—hadn't it started out great?
How did it get worse and worse the further along it went?
A real disgrace to capitalists!
Qi Li wasn't put off by the current superhero business model.
The people of this land were used to the present social model, and passionate about it.
So how could he—outwardly a child of God, a representative of Christ's love, a citizen of the chosen nation, a patriot—waste his energy sticking his nose into other people's business for no reason?
One had to respect local customs.
Anyway, for him, a visitor from another land, making big money and enjoying life, improving his powers along the way and savoring the taste of growing ever stronger, and now and then saving a beauty in distress and fighting crime for that psychological and moral thrill—that was already quite good.
In a way, as a superhero, his thinking really did line up with the locals.
Maybe this was how an ordinary person actually behaved after gaining superpowers.
Those superheroes in Marvel and DC who threw themselves into danger to save the world and gladly sacrificed themselves—they were the rare breed.
Free of any psychological burden, Qi Li thrived in this world like a fish in water.
"Hey, Bronze."
At that moment, a short, fat man in a cheap superhero battle suit, his belly as big as a woman ten months pregnant, squeezed past the people around him and came forward, greeting Qi Li with an ingratiating look.
Qi Li glanced at him.
This superhuman, so fat he was about to burst out of his suit, had been one of Steelclaw Man's drinking buddies—or more precisely, a hanger-on who trailed around after Steelclaw Man.
Qi Li nodded. "Shuttle."
He had no interest in more than that. After a casual reply, he kept walking and returned to his seat.
Then Miranda Jackman, in her grief, pressed close against his side again seeking comfort.
Qi Li could only sigh softly and play his part well—looking after his comrade's widow.
Not far away, Shuttle was sighing too, though his gaze kept drifting to Miranda.
Qi Li had assumed the memorial would offer nothing new after that.
But in the end, she dropped a bombshell.
When he helped Miranda Jackman—so overcome with grief she could barely walk steadily—back up onto the stage and let her give her speech, Steelclaw Man's wife began with something perfectly normal: thanking the guests, recalling her past with Steelclaw Man, praising him as a good husband and a good superhero, and so on.
But at the end, tears shining in her eyes, she said with deep feeling:
"On the cross, our Savior said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' So to the man who killed my husband, I choose forgiveness. I forgive him, because that is what Christ did, and it is what Steelclaw Man would do."
"What my husband always wanted to save were the lost lambs—the very kind who took his life."
"The answer to hatred is not hatred. From the Gospel we know it is love—always love. Love our enemies, love those who persecute us."
"Thank you all."
Qi Li didn't know what the others felt on hearing those words.
He only felt that he had just been greatly enlightened about life.
So "love" could be expressed this way too.
Then again, Miranda had forgiven the killer—and that real killer happened to be him.
Well, that was just fine. He had no burden or guilt left at all.
After all, the man's wife had chosen to forgive.
That wasn't the end of it. The great Steelclaw Man's wife seemed to feel the forgiving hadn't gone far enough.
After the memorial ended, in Steelclaw Man's Beverly Hills mansion, a deeper exercise in forgiveness was underway.
Some time later, the lights came on downstairs.
Qi Li, a loose bathrobe draped over him, opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of Locomotive-brand functional sports drink, and was about to take a swig.
His phone suddenly rang.
Seeing it was Monica, he answered casually, took a drink, and asked, "What is it?"
Monica, so excited at the memorial, was now in a fury.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
She let out several curses in a row, then said quickly:
"Turn on the TV. Put it on Vought TV. That bitch! Right now Vought's shows are nothing but that face of hers—a face that deserves to be shot! And that worn-out speech of hers!"
Qi Li had no idea what was going on, but he did as his agent said and turned on the TV in Steelclaw Man's house.
Chapter 5