America: A Prodigy of Stereotypes

“Be careful, don’t ruin your health,” Peter said with concern.

"I am very confident in my body."

As they entered the campus, Li Qun and Peter forced out their usual formulaic smiles and greeted the students who had come to greet them. Stan Lee, wearing a blue tank top and carrying a mop, also greeted them.

Good morning, Peter, Lyon.

Good morning, Stan Lee!

How was your weekend?

“It was great, we went to a party,” Peter replied to Stan Lee.

Stan Lee glanced at Li Qun, who was walking rather unsteadily.

"Is it what I think?" Stan Lee pointed at Liqun.

“No, Li Qun has overdone his kung fu training. He feels like he’s woken up the day after suddenly participating in a marathon,” Peter explained to Li Qun.

"effort?"

"Leon, are you preparing for a street fighting tournament?"

"You want to become the Queens street boxing champion too?" Stan Lee asked.

“No, no, no, Stan Lee, Li Qun isn’t participating in the match, but we agreed to go watch it,” Peter replied.

"That's a real shame," Stan Lee said, somewhat disappointed.

"I'm a loyal fan of the street boxing championship. I went to the finals of the first four competitions. The first Queens champion was a karate practitioner, and the second champion was a Mexican guy who danced the capoeira. He won the championship for three consecutive years."

"Leon, you should use your kung fu to bring that war dance kid down."

“Uh… Stan Lee, I didn’t learn kung fu to fight,” Li Qun explained to himself.

"Of course it's not for fighting, it's for the prize money."

“Bonus.” Stan Lee rubbed his fingers together.

“Go ahead and participate, I’ll bet everything on you to win!” Stan Lee said with a smile.

“I might participate in the sixth competition,” Li Qun said.

"Oh, a far-sighted kung fu fighter who was among the first to prepare for the sixth Street Fighting Tournament."

As the two walked past the bulletin board, Peter and Liqun noticed that the street fighting tournament's promotional posters had even reached the school.

“My uncle found me a part-time job,” Peter said.

"What is it?"

“Let me be an intern photographer for their newspaper, providing photos for the news,” Peter replied.

"very nice."

"Uncle Ben said he initially didn't want Aunt Mei to help me find a part-time job, thinking that I didn't need to do part-time work at the moment and that I should focus all my energy on studying, but Aunt Mei disagreed with Uncle Ben. The next day, Uncle Ben gave me a camera and asked me to go with him to the Bugle newspaper office to do part-time work under his nose."

"Is Uncle Ben, the deputy editor-in-chief, also required to travel around like other reporters?" Li Qun asked curiously.

“That’s how they old-fashioned people do things. The deputy editor-in-chief is just one of his many roles. Uncle Ben still identifies more with his identity as a journalist,” Peter replied.

Liqun nodded.

Ben Parker, a New Yorker with a strong sense of justice. Unlike his brother Richard Parker, Uncle Ben is a liberal arts graduate.

A day of high school life begins with casual conversation, and after focusing intently on studying, the morning flies by, and the afternoon dismissal time arrives in no time.

Life seemed to be on fast-forward, with the same routine repeating itself every day. The difference was that my brain was constantly learning all sorts of things, and my body was undergoing kung fu training.

Two weeks passed quickly. The internet problem at his uncle's house was solved, and Peter earned enough money for the tickets by doing part-time work right under his uncle's nose.

Peter has developed a new hobby: photography.

He also seems to be considering joining the Midtown High School's news club to make his hobby more formal.

Over the weekend between the two weeks, Little Black Reed didn't come to see Li Qun again; Peter's calculus problem had stumped him. During lunchtime at school, Li Qun saw Reed diligently studying calculus behind the gymnasium, engrossed in a thick advanced mathematics textbook.

Li Qun couldn't find a part-time job, but his aunt gave him a chance to earn money by helping with the accounts every day, which allowed him to earn enough for the 100 yuan entrance fee.

Peter and Liqun both had 100 yuan, and the group of people watching the game had become a trio.

Stan Lee joined them and took on the job of buying tickets.

A $100 street fight ticket is a season ticket, allowing them to watch every single fight in Queens throughout the entire season.

It's called a street competition, but it's actually a specially designated area.

"Boys, are you ready?"

"Stan Lee, we're ready!"

"Keep a close eye on your belongings, don't let anyone steal them!" Stan Lee warned.

Peter nervously clutched the camera hanging in front of his chest, while Stan Lee led the way and Li Qun protected him from behind. The three of them squeezed into the preliminary round of the Queens Street Fighting Tournament.

The fighting arena was very rudimentary; it was simply a soft mat laid out in the center before people could enter and fight, with a referee judging the outcome.

Weapons are not allowed, nor are injuries to vital areas such as the eyes permitted. The match lasts three minutes. One point is awarded for striking the opponent's head, chest, or abdomen, and two points are awarded for knocking them out of the match. The player with the highest score at the end of the match wins. Knocking an opponent down so they cannot get up results in an immediate victory. Players may choose to wear protective gear, but only to protect the vulnerable head and groin areas. Players who enter the match will be at a two-point disadvantage.

"They're all new faces."

Stan Lee acted as a commentator for Li Qun and Peter, and in the noisy arena, Stan Lee didn't care whether anyone could hear his commentary.

"This is the first preliminary round of the fifth edition. One side consists of very common boxers, and the other side is taekwondo..."

"What the hell is Taekwondo?" Stan Lee had already seen one side's defeat.

"What is Taekwondo?" Peter asked Li Qun as well.

"I don't know either, just wait and see." Li Qun was too lazy to explain.

One was black and the other was white, and the two contestants were about the same age and weight, around 19 years old and weighing around 65kg.

The black boxer, wearing boxing gloves, skillfully dodged the white taekwondo practitioner's kicks, then struck the taekwondo practitioner on the head with a side punch, knocking him to the ground.

The taekwondo athlete got up again, but this time before he could even kick, the black boxer rushed up and unleashed a series of fast punches, leaving the taekwondo athlete dizzy and unable to get up again.

The two finished the match efficiently and quickly.

"it's over?"

Peter held up his camera, but could only take one picture of the taekwondo athlete collapsing on the mat.

The black boxer smiled at Peter, revealing a set of white teeth, when he saw the camera. Peter took a picture of the victor.

Chapter 15 Gwen Stacy

"You're back. Was the match exciting?"

"Dad, the game is over in less than a minute."

"That's normal, it's the preliminary round."

"It will be the same when you fight with others in the future. If the difference in strength is too great, the outcome can be decided in an instant."

The old man smiled, put down his teacup, and the two went to the rooftop to begin today's training.

Li Qun took off his Irish-style red plaid hoodie, revealing a close-fitting white vest underneath, which clearly showed his well-defined muscle lines.

"He has made rapid progress and has a very talented physique; he is simply a martial arts prodigy, one in a million."

"The only downside is that you are nearsighted."

Dad picked up a ping-pong ball; the orange-yellow ball was quite eye-catching.

"Is your father also highly nearsighted?" the old man asked.

"Yes."

“Then your nearsightedness has a genetic component,” Dad said.

"Dad, are you going to treat my nearsightedness?" Li Qun asked.

"I don't know how to treat it, but I have some ideas."

The old man threw the ping-pong ball to Liqun, who raised his hand and caught it.

"Grab your racket."

The old man put a table on the rooftop, and he and Liqun started playing ping-pong there.

The square tabletop was not large, which greatly limited the ping-pong ball's movement. The old man played with ease, while Liqun was caught off guard and struggled.

"The reaction is alright." The old man smiled.

"Get another racket."

Li Qun obediently picked up the racket with both hands.

The old man served quickly, this time serving two balls in a row, asking Li Qun to use both hands and play a single-handed rally with him.

Two ping-pong balls bounced back and forth on the square table, and Liqun's performance was abysmal.

"Dad, this is so hard. I think I'll have a stiff neck tomorrow morning."

"You're already calling this difficult?"

"This is just a warm-up. You'll need to take your glasses off for the rest of the training."

"Then I won't be able to see anything at all?"

“You’re just nearsighted, not really blind,” Dad said.

"Come on, let's continue!"

It doesn't hurt when a ping-pong ball hits you, but it's annoying to keep getting hit on the head by my dad.

The old man kept smiling until he felt a little tired and called a halt to Li Qun's training for the day.

"Don't rush back. Tie these four sandbags to your wrists and ankles. You can't take them off until I tell you to."

Li Qun looked at the black sandbags, each weighing 5 kg.

"Dad, do you have any turtle shells?"

"No, but you can put a few bricks in your schoolbag," Dad chuckled.