Diwu, lost in thought, was startled by the sudden darkness that enveloped her room. She clutched her hairdryer to her chest, looking pitiful, her eyes wide with fear and shock.
"Why did the power go out all of a sudden?"
Realizing what had happened, Diwu first considered a blackout. She hurried to the floor-to-ceiling window, pulling back the curtains to peek outside.
"No… the power's not out. Did something trip the circuit?"
Outside, the city lights blazed on. The neighbors' windows were bright, and her own home was fully illuminated. Her electricity bills had always been paid on time, and nothing had ever been cut off.
As soon as she drew the curtains closed, the lights in her room flickered back on. Diwu jumped in fright, almost letting out a scream, but once her eyes adjusted and she took in her surroundings, she realized there was nothing to fear—just a sudden, shocking phenomenon.
She picked up the hairdryer again and turned to continue drying her damp hair.
"Ah—!!"
Someone had suddenly appeared in the living room.
"Who are you?! How did you get in here?! Get out, or I'll call the police!!"
Panicking, Diwu brandished the hairdryer at the stranger who had just appeared in her room. Unbeknownst to her, the hairdryer was hardly a weapon. Far from intimidating, it only made her look even more vulnerable.
Carl, standing there in front of this overly attractive woman, was equally confused. He had no idea why he had appeared here, why she seemed so afraid, or why he hadn't harmed her despite the situation.
Seeing him staring at her, Diwu reacted instinctively. She threw the hairdryer at him while instinctively covering her chest and lower body.
Having just showered and alone at home, she wore a silk camisole dress. It was tightly wrapped, not see-through, but she had never worn such revealing clothing in front of anyone—not even Xiaoling had seen her like this. Now, faced with a stranger staring openly at her in her own home, Diwu could hardly accept the situation. But more importantly, her safety was at stake.
Frantically, she scanned the room for a weapon. Kitchens usually had knives, but rarely would someone keep a weapon in the living room. She came up empty-handed.
Carl, for his part, was equally unsure, glancing around as if seeking something, bewildered by the situation. It was his first time in such circumstances, and he had no idea how to respond.
Diwu finally realized something strange: despite all this, she hadn't been harmed. How was that possible?
Her eyes fell on the figure before her: a man in a tight indigo suit, a red cape nearly brushing the floor, red boots, and a large "S" emblem across his chest.
"Superman?"
At first, panic had consumed her, and she hadn't registered his outfit. Now, seeing it clearly, she recognized it immediately. The suit looked familiar, like something out of an old superhero movie. But this man's face was different; he didn't look foreign like the movie's Superman. He could be from here, a local, and yet those blue-gold eyes and slightly curled black hair made him strikingly handsome.
Diwu stared at Carl for a long moment before her tone hardened:"Who exactly are you? How did you get in here? Don't you know this is illegal?"
It was obvious—the front door was locked tight, with no sign of tampering. She always closed it behind her, a habit she never neglected.
Her eyes darted to the windows, considering every possibility.
Thud—
Diwu ran to the bedroom. The room was messy, but she didn't suspect Carl had done it—it was just her usual living space.
Bang!
Carl closed the door, and a few minutes later, he emerged wearing a T-shirt and cropped pants, holding a stick in his hand.
It was a baseball bat she had bought on a whim in the past—and now it finally had a purpose.
They faced each other across the sofa. Carl stood as usual, calm and composed. Diwu raised the bat, glaring at him, ready to strike if he moved.
"Speak. Are you deaf or mute? Don't think pretending to be helpless will lessen your guilt."
Carefully, she moved toward the sofa and spotted her bag, where her phone lay. Without it, she couldn't call the police.
Carl didn't seem to care at all about the bat. He stepped closer, crossing the line Diwu had drawn, and without hesitation, she swung.
"Bang!"
The bat hit something. But something felt off—it didn't feel like hitting a human. Curious, she opened her eyes.
The bat was resting against Carl's face. He hadn't flinched, yet the strike had landed perfectly, as if by instinct.
Diwu struck again, this time keeping her eyes open, swinging hard at his head. Another crisp sound echoed—not like hitting flesh, but metal. Intrigued, she continued to strike.
Minutes passed. Carl remained unharmed, while Diwu, exhausted and sweaty from just having showered, held the bat in disbelief. Her strength as a woman, combined with the bat, should have done something—but he remained untouched, expression unchanged, unscathed.
"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? Are you trying to kidnap me? Why are you standing in my house?!"
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