America: A Prodigy of Stereotypes

"I'll cover the tickets, and everyone should make sure they don't miss out," Harry said generously to everyone.

“Excuse me, the ticket price has dropped this year, it’s only sixty dollars,” Stan Lee said with a smile.

“Peter, are you nervous? If the ticket prices drop drastically, there will be several times more people this year than in previous years.” Harry nudged Peter’s arm lightly.

"Are you a spectator or a contestant?" Peter asked nervously.

Chapter 172 Red Spider, Attack!!

When going out, driving a modified minivan like the Gwent is the safest option.

Because Gwen's van had special markings, New York police officers could immediately tell that it belonged to a family member of a New York City police officer.

Today, Gwen was driving, and Peter rode in her car to the registration point for the street fighting tournament. People were lining up to register, and everyone in the line looked fiercer than Peter.

Peter glanced at the line of people waiting to register from afar, then turned around and got back into the car.

"What's wrong? Peter, are you having second thoughts?" Gwen looked back at Peter from the driver's seat. Li Qun and Harry were also in the car, but they didn't get out, leaving Peter to go to register alone.

“I need to put on a mask before I go, there are too many people.” Peter said, taking out a red spider silk hood and putting it on his head, then tugging at the hood a couple of times.

After Peter got ready, he got off the bus again and joined the line to register for the street fighting tournament.

"Anonymous registration, is that right? Name?" The competition organizer, holding a pen behind his desk, asked Peter casually.

“…Red Spider,” Peter said.

The person registering for the competition was a black man wearing sunglasses, a gold chain around his neck, and was quite fat. He looked up and sized up Peter.

“Red Spider… why don’t you call it Starry Night’s Lament?” the other party said.

"Is there anyone named Megatron?" Peter put on the mask that concealed his true identity, and his personality became much more outgoing.

"There's someone called Red Hood, but Batman hasn't appeared yet." The other person laughed.

"Give me the registration fee."

Peter took out the money from his pocket, counted it, and handed it to the other person.

The registration fee for the competition is $250, and the organizers will make a fortune just from the registration fees this year.

“Go to that room, I’ll take your picture,” the registrant pointed to Peter.

Peter entered the room, which was simply a photography studio.

He glanced at the camera in the photographer's hand; it was an instant camera that could produce photos in just a few seconds after a shot was taken.

"Open your eyes wide and don't blink."

The photographer pressed the shutter button, and after the Polaroid camera ejected the photo, the photographer continued to press the shutter button, taking eight photos of Peter in a row.

"Okay, now I'll take some promotional photos for you. Do you know how to pose for photos with this camera?"

"Really? I'll teach you..."

Peter was being manipulated by the photographer in the photography studio. The photographer was a bit talkative, but every word of his guidance was very helpful to Peter, teaching him which poses would make the photos more impactful.

"You have great body proportions, you could consider becoming a model."

"Thank you."

Peter walked out of the photography studio with a freshly made contestant's pass in his hand. The photographer had simply altered a Polaroid photo to create the pass. Although the anti-counterfeiting features on the pass were rudimentary, multiple documents corroborated each other.

"All done, let me show you my competition look."

Peter returned to the car and showed the two photos to Li Qun and the other two.

The photographer gave Peter two Polaroid photos.

"Not bad," Li Qun commented, looking at the photo.

"The competition rules were changed at the last minute because there were too many people signing up. The preliminary rounds would have taken a very long time if they had followed the original rules," Peter said.

"What has it been changed to?"

“They seem to have modified it based on the World Martial Arts Tournament,” Peter said.

"Do the organizers of the competition also read the Dragon Ball manga?" Harry asked, puzzled.

“I saw someone signing up wearing a martial arts uniform from a comic book,” Peter said.

“Anyone who likes fighting and fitness has watched Dragon Ball,” Li Qun said.

The bookshelves in the club activity room have the complete set of Dragon Ball manga, the original Japanese version, sponsored by Liqun. A kung fu club has to have Dragon Ball manga.

Li Qun rolled down the car window, and several people inside were helping Peter observe his opponents in the game.

“Did you guys see that guy? His arms are thicker than my thighs!” Harry said, turning his head.

“Don’t be nervous, I just need to get my opponent off the ring and I’ll win. Opponents of this size are usually not very agile,” Peter reassured Harry.

"It must have been treated with pesticides," Li Qun said.

"What kind of medicine can make someone like this?" Harry asked.

“Veterinary drugs, for cattle, are in a gray area,” Gwen explained.

“They just look scary. If we were to actually fight one of these guys, we could just turn around and run away. They wouldn’t be able to catch us,” Li Qun said.

"Haha! Really?" Harry laughed.

“The side effects of veterinary drugs are very dangerous. The probability of cerebral hemorrhage and myocardial infarction is very high. Running at high speed can kill them,” Li Qun said.

“Peter, you have to be careful,” Harry said, turning to Peter.

“Everyone signed a guarantee when they registered, stating that they would be responsible for any accidental death,” Peter replied.

“Are we just going to sit here all day?” Gwen asked.

"So what are we going to do? It's Saturday," Harry asked.

“Let’s go have afternoon tea,” Gwen said.

“I agree, I’m so nervous I want to eat,” Peter said.

“There’s a place I’ve always wanted to try, and it’s perfect that you’re all here,” Gwen said, starting the car and driving off.

Looking at the direction Gwen drove off in, Li Qun guessed that Gwen was going to take them to Chinatown in Manhattan for afternoon tea.

Gwen found a parking space, got out of the car, and led the three people to a Guangzhou restaurant.

“Okay, so in Guangzhou, morning tea is now afternoon tea,” Li Qun complained.

"Liqun, lead the way. I don't know how to order food here." Gwen walked behind Liqun and pushed him forward.

"How many people?" the waiter asked as he walked up to Li Qun.

"Four."

"Sit over there." The waiter led the way for Li Qun.

“I rarely come here either…” Li Qun said to Gwen as he turned around.

The four of them occupied a table. Although it was afternoon, there were quite a few customers sitting in the restaurant's lobby.

The waiter brought Li Qun the menu, and he could tell that it was the first time Li Qun and the other young people had eaten at his restaurant.

"Such a small portion?" Gwen said, looking at the menu.

“This is a portion that one person can finish; we can order many different kinds,” Li Qun explained.

"We want this, this, and this..."

The waiter looked at the menu impatiently and wrote down "these" that Li Qun had ordered.

Li Qun ordered more than a dozen Cantonese dim sum dishes from the menu, and also a pot of Tieguanyin tea.

The waiter took the order and left, but returned shortly afterward with a trolley filled with all sorts of dim sum, including shrimp dumplings, siu mai, char siu bao, and chicken feet in black bean sauce.

"Peter, this was specially ordered for you—porridge!"

"Why did you order this specifically for me?" Peter asked.

"The meaning of 'Jidi Congee' is to achieve the best result, ranking first." Li Qun's explanation was very straightforward.

Chapter 173 Almost Tasty

The van stopped in front of Peter's house, the sliding door opened, and Peter jumped out.

“See you tomorrow, Peter!!” Gwen called out to Peter.

"See you tomorrow."

Peter was carrying a plastic bag containing Cantonese dim sum.

This wasn't leftovers from the restaurant; it was something Peter specially ordered to take home for Aunt May and Uncle Ben to try.

"Peter, you're back."

Peter entered the room to find Aunt May preparing dinner in the kitchen.

"Can you still eat dinner?" Aunt May asked Peter with a smile.

“I can eat it,” Peter replied with a smile.

"Aunt Mei, this is Cantonese dim sum. It's delicious. You must try it."

Peter placed the plastic bag on the table and took out the still-warm Cantonese dim sum from it one by one.

“They’re so pretty.” Aunt May turned around and looked carefully at the Cantonese dim sum Peter had brought back.

"I'm making clam stew."

Peter glanced at Aunt May's stainless steel soup pot, which contained Manhattan clam soup with tomatoes and paprika.

In America, clam chowder is divided into two schools: the traditional white clam chowder and the fusion-inspired red clam chowder, both served with cookies.

The debate between the two factions on clam soup is as endless as the debate among the Aurora people about whether tofu pudding should be sweet or savory.

When you put dry, hard biscuits into a thick clam stew, they transform into something else entirely. As autumn gradually transitions into winter, it's the perfect season to enjoy clam stew.

"Peter, why is your face a little red?" Aunt May asked with concern.

"I just finished exercising, so my face will be red for a while," Peter replied somewhat sheepishly.