New York's Spring Festival

"Wow, you actually remembered me."

Time came to the end of January 2009.

On the 26th, it wasn't just the Chinese—all of New York was celebrating the Lunar New Year.

Zhang had already gone back to China for the holiday, taking along a pile of Recovery Serums Oaks had given him.

"Hey! Mr. Oaks, Happy New Year!"

A video call across the ocean made Oaks feel like he'd reconnected with that magical land.

But the thirteen-hour time difference meant it was still seven in the morning for Oaks, while Zhang had already finished dinner over there.

The guy had been thoughtful enough not to video call late at night: "Actually, I think you could come to China and celebrate with me. This year's your zodiac year too."

"Thanks, Zhang. If I get the chance, I will."

Oaks chatted in fluent Chinese with Zhang and his family for a while before reminding them they should get some rest.

"Don't worry, Mr. Oaks. I'll treasure my work with the Benevolence Society. No screw-ups—I'm on standby 24/7!"

Zhang fully understood how rare his current position was.

Without Oaks as his golden ticket, he could've worked his whole life and never gotten close to a giant like S.H.I.E.L.D.

Though meeting the S.H.I.E.L.D. director made him suspect Goose wasn't Oaks's "work," that actually put him at ease.

Compared to the modified creatures in novels and movies, even if she was a cat demon, at least she was something naturally existing...

So, when it came to Oaks the "Druid" "modifying" him, Zhang just took it with a grain of salt.

What exists is reasonable, right?

"Don't overdo it. With Melinda and Blaze around, you can take a few days off—

This noon, Roosevelt Park in Lower Manhattan has three hours of continuous six-hundred-thousand-firecracker blasts and traditional dragon and lion dances.

In Flushing, Queens, there's a three-day Lunar New Year parade—the festive vibe here is no weaker than where you are."

"Wow, sounds awesome! I'll check the YouTube videos!"

After hanging up with Zhang, Oaks stretched, poured himself a coffee, and heard the shop door ring.

"Hey, President Oaks. We've got a busy day ahead. It's freezing—aren't you paying overtime?"

Melinda pushed through the door. It had snowed heavily last night, and she'd thrown a Mink Coat over her uniform.

As a Chinese-American, even though she hadn't grown up in China, her understanding and interest in traditional festivals were no less.

"I recall your salary comes from S.H.I.E.L.D., dear Mel. No cash, but as usual, grab some Recovery Serum yourself later."

Oaks put on his Long Coat and a Baseball Cap, making Melinda raise an eyebrow: "Didn't peg you for being so cold-resistant. The snow outside is up to your calves."

"Heavy snow is part of nature too. But you, Mel—wearing that in front of animal rights activists would get you roasted.

And the Benevolence Society's scope has expanded to wildlife protection and pet rescue."

"I don't get paid by the Benevolence Society. If anyone's got a problem, tell 'em to come to me!

Don't think I care about image like those government officials. Anyone who dares, I'll throw 'em all in the slammer!"

"Wow, Auntie Mel's fierce, Auntie Mel's mighty, Auntie Mel... dating's off the table!"

He cracked a joke in Chinese, earning a disdainful sneer and a middle finger from Melinda. Oaks headed out with her to drive to the Benevolence Society headquarters.

As for Melinda letting him call her "Auntie Mel," besides her being over a decade older than Oaks, it made her seem more respected than the Director—at least when speaking Chinese.

"Speaking of which, a car like this should be for a delicate woman like me. A big guy like you—don't you feel cramped in there?"

Melinda drove Oaks's Smart with a look of contempt, weaving through Brooklyn's heavy traffic and crowds with one hair-raising maneuver after another: "Driving this thing always felt like something was missing... I finally figured it out today!

This car doesn't have a whiff of gasoline aroma..."

"Huh? You call that aroma? Breathe too much and you'll get chronic poisoning! And if you're a delicate woman, Mel, then I must be congenitally deficient!"

Oaks stared at her in horror: "Now I get why you're so hot-tempered, Mel—definitely from inhaling too much gas!"

"I'm perfectly healthy! Being a man and not understanding the romance of gasoline and engines—you're hopeless!"

Melinda shot a glare at the wryly smiling Oaks: "Spill it. What's going on? You didn't go crazy and use your plants as AC filters, did you?

And why doesn't the gas gauge move no matter how far I drive this thing? S.H.I.E.L.D. gives fuel subsidies!"

To most people, veteran driver Melinda couldn't care less if he needed gas, but for one thing, she was now the Benevolence Society's liaison—technically his monitor.

For another, Oaks's plants had significantly improved her mentor Peggy Carter's health, enough that she was willing to stay longer in Brooklyn, letting Melinda visit often.

And third...

Oaks himself basically never drove when going out—this car had practically become Melinda's.

"Well, that's a secret for now... as long as the engine's still roaring, right?"

Oaks laughed it off. There was too much going on lately, and he didn't want to stir up any more big news.

He tugged at his Baseball Cap, and fine vines firmly strapped him into the seat, letting him mostly ignore veteran driver Melinda's showboating:

"Speaking of which, the Benevolence Society really owes you for coordinating everything, Mel. Without you, those guys wouldn't have a clue what to do or how to do it.

The Benevolence Society's grown so fast, its reach all the way into Manhattan—you've been indispensable. Should I ask Director Fury to put in for a bonus for you?"

"Heh, last month's Christmas apples and Christmas tree had the whole bureau satisfied. The Director already gave me my bonus."

Melinda's expression softened considerably, and her attention was successfully diverted—honestly, her side income here was way better than any bonus.

As long as she didn't sell it, she had an unlimited supply of Recovery Serum. For a middle-aged woman of thirty-five, what could be more wonderful than that?

Melinda was genuinely getting younger by the day. Whenever she visited her mentor, her junior sister Sharon was always envious.

"But what really caught me off guard was that clerk of yours, the Benevolence Society's secretary, Mr. Antonio Zhang."

At that, Melinda couldn't help but praise him:

"Are you sure he majored in environmental science and not management? He's got those guys completely under control, and he's incredibly efficient, with a solid grasp of daily operations."

"Uh, he was student council president in undergrad, and he trained for two weeks in secretary courses at Tony's Stark Industries. But I think the most important thing is..."

Oaks cleared his throat with a strange look:

"The first time the kid came to Brooklyn, he got beaten up by the crew Clyde was leading. So now they're all pretty intimidated by Zhang."

"..."

As they chatted and laughed, the Smart pulled up at the Benevolence Society headquarters.

This was the completely revamped "Little Rainforest." Thick, interwoven vines formed the new gate, still lush and green even in New York's coldest January.

"Truly fitting—'Spring Festival.'"