Men who want to do bad things are always guilty

Traveling to Los Angeles was not part of Xiang Qian's original itinerary, as he hadn't known how long he would need to stay in San Francisco. But once news of the Alcatraz Island riot spread, Tony Stark had repeatedly invited him to Los Angeles.

In Tony Stark's own words: "Come on, Brother Tony has prepared the best placebo for my little brother to soothe your wounded soul. Don't worry, I would never mock you for losing hundreds of millions in investments and tens of billions in market prospects."

Xiang Qian couldn't help but roll his eyes as he asked, "Just how effective can your placebo be?"

Tony Stark replied, "Definitely better than those two chicks from the Hilton family."

Xiang Qian looked down at the naked, soundly sleeping socialite in his arms and expressed his doubt: "I think you're bluffing."

"Bluffing? When has Tony Stark ever needed to bluff? Everything I say, I can turn into reality." Tony Stark was smug. "Come on, let me teach you: no drug can be discussed apart from its dosage—I've prepared a heavy dose for you in Los Angeles."

"What kind of heavy dose?"

Suddenly, Virginia Pepper Potts's cold, emotionless voice cut into the receiver: "The 'heavy dose' Mr. Stark is referring to is inviting every female model and celebrity he can reach in Los Angeles to his beach villa for an unprecedented, massive party."

The icy tone made Xiang Qian instinctively shrink under the covers.

Before either man could speak, Pepper continued in her stiff, frigid tone: "According to my calculations, Mr. Stark's villa, including the estate lawn in front of it, can accommodate at most about three hundred and fifty guests."

"So, I took the liberty of limiting the scale of the invitations; if we only invite female models and celebrities with a rating of 87.5 or higher, the number of guests can be kept exactly within the capacity."

Xiang Qian asked hesitantly, "Rating? What rating?"

"A data model that comprehensively scores female models and celebrities based on appearance, figure, fame, and other metrics—jointly designed by Mr. Tony Stark and Mr. James Zion in 2004."

He didn't know if it was his imagination, but Xiang Qian felt like Pepper was gritting her teeth when she mentioned his and Tony's names. He stammered, "I think the patent for this data model could just list Tony's name; I have absolutely no objections."

Tony Stark jumped up: "This data model was your idea in the first place."

The two men began to undermine each other and pass the buck back and forth over the phone.

"I must solemnly declare that at least 90% of the content in this data model was written by Tony."

"So, the underlying architecture and the point conversion rules only account for 10%?"

"I remember that when we were verifying the model's feasibility, all the data used for the female celebrities was provided by Tony."

"Hey, you were the one who picked the list of female celebrities."

"I also find it strange; no matter which celebrity's name I bring up, Tony can always find accurate data on them."

"You ungrateful little brat. I organized this party all for you; this is your favorite way to de-stress."

"ENOUGH!" Pepper Potts shrieked, and both ends of the line went silent; the two men shut their mouths in perfect unison.

Calm down, Virginia Pepper Potts... you must stay calm! Deep breath, deep breath... don't put your fist into Tony's face; he is your boss.

He pays your salary, and he pays for your insurance—including dental insurance!

Pepper chanted this over and over in her mind, her fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, she let out a long sigh.

"I am going to continue finalizing the guest list now. If Mr. Tony Stark—and of course, Mr. James Zion—have any special requirements for the list, please notify me before six o'clock this evening... That is all!"

Pepper read out this sentence almost word for word, then stomped away in her high heels. She was worried that if she stayed to listen to these two men ramble any longer, she might quit her job just to punch someone to vent her frustration.

After a long while, there was no sound on the other end, so Xiang Qian asked cautiously, "Is she gone?"

"Yes!"

Xiang Qian immediately regained his energy and began to complain into the receiver with a sarcastic tone: "A party organized for me, huh? Are you serious? San Francisco and Los Angeles are 600 kilometers apart, and you still managed to pin the blame on me?"

The term "black pot" didn't have the same meaning in English, but having spent so much time with Xiang Qian, Tony Stark had naturally picked it up.

"What else could I do?" Tony argued defensively. "You're in San Francisco, 600 kilometers away from Los Angeles; I was only six feet away from Pepper!"

"So that's your excuse for shirking responsibility with such peace of mind? Why do you sound like a cheating husband caught in bed?" Xiang Qian said with disdain.

"NO! This is just the necessary respect an employer maintains for an outstanding employee."

Xiang Qian scoffed: "Tony, you look so stupid when you deceive yourself."

"Why don't you look at yourself?" Tony countered. "You're six hundred kilometers away and you're still acting so timid toward Pepper."

Xiang Qian didn't back down: "The only reason I'm afraid of Pepper from six hundred kilometers away is because you're only six feet away from her. Bro, you have to understand, without you, Ms. Pepper Potts would be nothing more than a familiar stranger to me."

"My attitude toward her is entirely dependent on your attitude toward her—you just haven't figured that out yet."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

"I think that's entirely your imagination!"

Xiang Qian hung up the phone and couldn't help but chuckle. The socialite in his arms woke up, squirming restlessly against him, rubbing against him as she mumbled, "Are you leaving?"

"Mhm, I have to go to Los Angeles; there's a party there I need to attend."

"Can I go?" The socialite was immediately interested; she was a well-known party animal herself.

Xiang Qian refused gently but ruthlessly: "No, it's... a family gathering."

"Shit!" The socialite flipped him off, cursed, got out of bed, and left just as ruthlessly, getting dressed as she went.

Xiang Qian walked leisurely to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed into the distance. After more than twenty hours of indulgence with the socialite sisters, the midday sun was already spilling in from outside.

In the distance, the shimmering light of the San Francisco Bay occasionally reflected off the glass through the gaps between the buildings. The 300-meter-tall bridge towers of the Golden Gate Bridge had been moved, leaving the original site empty, save for a small, broken section of the bridge.

The mutant gene serum incident had come to an end, and apart from Xiang Qian, all other parties involved had basically walked away empty-handed; it was time to leave San Francisco.

A motorcade of three sedans pulled up brazenly to the hotel entrance to pick up passengers. Xiang Qian was surrounded by a tight circle of bodyguards, while outside, layers upon layers of relentless paparazzi swarmed the area; their fanatical and persistent work ethic was truly staggering.

The Alcatraz Island riot had ended only three days ago, and even with the military and various armed law enforcement agencies clearing the area, the public safety situation on the streets of San Francisco remained grim. Yet, even this could not dampen the paparazzi's enthusiasm for hunting down gossip.

Xiang Qian chose not to fly, opting instead to have the motorcade take the highway—he needed to give the paparazzi a chance to follow him, or else how could he maintain the buzz?

Meanwhile, in an unknown secret safe house, a certain dark-skinned director watched Xiang Qian's motorcade on a surveillance monitor, his single eye gleaming with a gloomy light.

"Establish a dedicated surveillance team immediately. Starting today, as long as Xiang Qian enters the United States... no, as long as he leaves China, he is to be placed under 24-hour uninterrupted surveillance. All information gathered from this monitoring is to be classified as Level Seven."

"I want to know his every move."