Lunch Together

$300,000.

That was the highest price the other party had quoted after Coulson was mind-controlled.

Yuri curled his lip in disdain. Motherfucker Man was as black-hearted as they came, and as shady as a dog—this was the inventor of the armor, Tony Stark!

And he was only worth $300,000?

He signaled Yinsen to take the cash box and count it openly with a counterfeit detector, then blinked, using his ability to make the memory of the "haggling" process in Coulson's mind feel utterly natural.

"Well..."

Coulson sensed nothing amiss. He cast a slightly regretful glance at the cash box on the counter—this mission, aside from the bonus, he wouldn't pocket a single cent. Withdrawing his gaze, he scrutinized Yuri and asked, "Who is that person?"

Yuri chuckled. "Even if I don't say it, you should know who it is."

Coulson gave a faint smile but said nothing. If it wasn't who he thought, he'd not only get no money but might even lose pay for spending funds on wrong intel.

Yuri nodded. "Tony Stark. As you know, putting a suit of armor into combat requires a massive amount of energy. Only his Micro-Reactor can meet the energy output the armor needs."

Coulson extended his hand, smiling. "Mr. Yuri, pleasure doing business."

"Pleasure doing business."

Yuri reached out too, but at the last moment before their hands met, he pulled his arm back and flashed a thumbs-up instead.

"Mr. Yuri, you're quite the joker."

Coulson gracefully withdrew the fist he'd held between them. He nodded to Yinsen, who was busy counting money, then left the Ancestor's Handicraft Shop without looking back.

Through the shop window, Yuri clearly saw dozens of burly men with bulging waistbands step out of various stores near the shop. They climbed into several cars parked along the street and drove off in different directions.

"Heh."

Yuri turned and walked back to the front counter, casually grabbing a stack from the bills Yinsen had counted. "Once you're done counting, put it back in the cash box. I'm going to buy some things. I'll put it away when I get back."

"Sure thing, boss."

Yinsen didn't look up, completely absorbed in the thick, ink-scented bills, unable to tear himself away.

Yuri shrugged, rolled up a finger-thick wad of green dollars, stuffed it into his pocket, and pushed open the shop door.

NIKE, Adidas...

He swept through everything—from everyday sportswear and suits down to standard-size men's boxers and C+, B- shaped bust cups. He even custom-ordered several formal outfits for the five who didn't even have ID cards yet.

Yuri unloaded the armful of clothes bags into the shop, told Yinsen not to touch anything, then took a two-finger-thick stack of cash from the box and left the shop again.

Yinsen stared at the sea of green in the cash box and shook his head. I may not care about money, but you sure are tempting me.

Outside the window, the street was packed with pedestrians, providing plenty of foot traffic for the storefronts. But no one would walk into a shop where you had to act like a grandson to enter—even the Hell's Kitchen delivery guys just left the food at the door.

"At least I don't have to worry about my pay."

Yinsen touched his glowing forehead, the same as Coulson's, and pushed up his glasses as he let his hand fall. He glanced at his watch—12:50.

Ten minutes until lunch.

He went into the bathroom to wash his own utensils in advance, and when he came out, he found Yuri walking over from a car with a Hell's Kitchen delivery guy.

"Open the gate, Yinsen!"

Yuri and the delivery guy hauled one heavy foam box after another from the trunk and back seat.

Yinsen opened the door, helping carry them inside while asking in confusion, "Boss, are you stockpiling supplies? This much—we couldn't finish it in a week!"

Yuri pulled a dollar from his pocket as a tip for the delivery guy, watched him leave, then closed the shop door and said to Yinsen, "We've got some new employees in the shop. This is just one meal's worth."

Yinsen didn't fully understand but had a vague guess: either the "new employees" were a lot, or they had appetites as huge as the boss's.

A smart person knows what to ask and what not to. He took his own portion and went back to the counter. This job was already too good to mess up.

"Shack, Kate, Vanax! All of you, come down!"

The security door at the top of the stairs on the second floor swung open automatically, and heavy footsteps thundered down to the first floor.

Yinsen pushed up his glasses. Good grief—three burly men sharing one trench coat, front covered but back exposed. Eyesore, pure eyesore.

"Stop!"

All footsteps halted instantly.

Yuri handed out the clothes bags piled on the floor to the five of them, ordering the men back to the second floor and the women to the third. Get changed, then come down to eat.

The three big men grabbed their clothes, completely ignoring Yinsen behind the counter, and scampered bare-assed back up to the second floor.

Yuri gave Yinsen an awkward smile. "They might be a bit... unusual. If you run into anything, please bear with them."

Yinsen swallowed his food, glanced at the stairs, and nodded. "Don't worry, boss. I think I'm mentally prepared."

A few minutes later, five neatly dressed young men and women stood awkwardly on the first floor. Silly Bird Vanax reached into her top, scratching irritably at the shaped bra wrapped around her two "bread bags," and said, "Boss, do I have to wear this thing? And the thing in the pants—it's squeezing me, it's so uncomfortable."

The other four nodded in deep agreement, then five pairs of expectant eyes blinked at the Mutant leader, whose mouth kept twitching.

"Endure. Adapt. Overcome."

Yuri slowly uttered three ordinary words. He swept his gaze over the five, finally landing on Silly Bird. "Treat them like environmental factors you have to put up with. I believe in you!"

"Yes!"

Yinsen, who had been drinking water, was startled by the sudden voice. Half the water went down his throat, the other half into his lungs, making him cough uncontrollably.

"Boss, who is this human?"

Silly Bird glanced disdainfully at Yinsen, whose face was flushed red from coughing. Getting like this just from drinking water—humans were truly weak.

Yuri was handing out meal boxes to Shack and the others. Upon hearing this, he emphasized, "Human! Human! Human! Vanax, you should ask, 'Who is this person!'"

"Oh."

Vanax had only asked casually; her attention quickly shifted to the foam box on the ground that gave off an enticing aroma. "Where's mine? Where's mine? Boss, where's mine?"

Yuri picked up his own thirty portions of steak and side fruits, then pointed with his chin at the remaining two foam boxes. "That's yours. Bring it over, and I'll teach you how to eat."

"Pfft!"

Yinsen, who had just recovered, spat out all the calming water he had just drunk. He wiped the water stains off the counter, shock still lingering in his eyes. Teach how to eat?

How exactly would he teach?

What kind of eating method would he teach?

Can I watch?