Peter ended up giving Xu Wang his address.
He wasn't exactly good at saying no to people—especially someone who, despite being… eccentric, seemed to have a good heart.
Xu Wang didn't linger long at Midtown High after that. Ignoring the curious stares from students, he simply climbed over the school wall and walked away.
He wasn't joking when he said he was going to pick up trash.
He meant it.
Even though he hadn't officially entered a "wasteland" world yet, Xu Wang firmly believed that survival in any dystopian realm required mastering the basics. Trash picking was one such foundational skill.
And if he was going to spend some time in this Spider-Man world, then he might as well start training now.
Back in his original life, people often said Xu Wang had a screw loose. But he never agreed.
"My thinking is perfectly clear. How could anyone say I have a mental problem? That's just slander against a free spirit!"
He was walking down the street when a Harley-Davidson suddenly pulled up beside him. Its rider—a rough-looking biker—seemed to be eyeing a shady dealer nearby.
Xu Wang's eyes lit up.
"Wow! I'm so lucky today! A Harley that no one wants! Truly, I'm born for scavenging!"
Before anyone could stop him, he walked over like it was the most natural thing in the world, hopped onto the motorcycle, and started it up like a pro.
Everything happened so smoothly, it was like the bike had been waiting just for him.
The biker, still negotiating with the dealer, suddenly heard the roar of his beloved motorcycle starting up behind him.
He turned around.
And saw an Asian guy in a ragged blue uniform riding away on his Harley!
"Hey! That's my bike!"
"First come, first served!" Xu Wang replied with a grin. "I found this trash fair and square!"
And with that, he kicked up the stand, shifted gears, and sped off like a natural-born outlaw.
The Harley roared like a beast set free, disappearing into the city traffic.
"My bike! My baby—Swallow! How am I supposed to live without you?!"
Xu Wang heard the desperate yelling behind him and glanced in the rearview mirror. Then, looking down at the gas tank, he noticed the word Swallow painted in neat script.
Ah. So that was the name of the bike.
For a second there, he thought the biker had fallen in love with him at first sight. That was close—he almost got emotional.
He twisted the throttle harder, and the Harley shot forward, leaving only dust behind.
Xu Wang had never been to New York, but thanks to his excellent memory and previous life's internet habits, he knew a fair bit about how trash-picking worked in America.
Like in China, scavengers roamed the streets here too—collecting cans, bottles, and other recyclables to sell.
Branded bottles with the New York State logo could be returned for five cents apiece at redemption centers. Or, failing that, you could haul your collection to a scrap yard for a few bucks per pound.
He wasn't looking for luxury—he just needed survival money. And this world didn't run on good intentions.
Xu Wang parked near a supermarket, rummaged around back, and found a relatively clean dumpster. He pulled out several large black trash bags and emptied their contents.
"These'll be useful."
He put on a pair of pink gloves (safety first—who knows what's hiding in trash), and even found a decent-looking black backpack.
"Americans really are wasteful. This is perfectly usable!"
He strapped the backpack on, gave himself a once-over in a nearby storefront reflection, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Yup. I look like a proper wastelander now."
And so began Xu Wang's first official trash-picking operation.
He worked with focus and enthusiasm, completely ignoring the weird looks from pedestrians. By the time the sun began to set, he'd gathered two full bags of plastic bottles.
He rode to the local scrap yard and sold off the day's haul.
Total: $23.52.
Not bad for a rookie.
At the counter, the scrap yard staff gave him a receipt and pointed him toward the cashier window. Xu Wang strolled over, handed it in, and collected his cash.
Then the man behind the counter casually mentioned, "If you sell over a hundred bucks' worth, you can just give us your ID and we'll deposit the money straight to your bank card."
Xu Wang blinked.
ID? Bank card?
He instantly understood what the man meant—and was deeply insulted.
"Excuse me," Xu Wang said with a stern face. "Please respect my identity and profession!"
"I am a legitimate illegal immigrant with no legal documents! I've never paid a single cent in taxes! I came here today to begin a proud career as a full-time scavenger! If you want to compliment my trash-picking talents, I'll gladly accept. But if you assume I have official paperwork, I can only feel deeply humiliated!"
Then, as if that weren't enough, he paused, turned back, and added solemnly:
"Oh, and I'm also a divorced Black single mother of two."
The man stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
"…Ma'am, I apologize for my ignorance," he said, taking off his hat in deep respect.
Xu Wang nodded, satisfied.
With $23.52 in his pocket, he rode away on his stolen Harley feeling rich.
Evening fell.
Now it was time to eat—and find somewhere to sleep.
Fortunately, thanks to modern internet wisdom and his photographic memory, Xu Wang already had a plan.
Around 7 PM, he pulled up to a pizza shop.
And just as he got off the bike, he saw a familiar face.
Wearing a pizza delivery uniform, Peter Parker was standing in front of the shop.
Xu Wang's eyes lit up.
"Oh ho! Looks like fate really wants us to stick together!"
(End of Chapter 4)