Going to Los Angeles wasn't part of Xiang Qian's original itinerary, since at first he had no idea how long he would need to stay in San Francisco. But after news of the Alcatraz Island riot spread, Tony Stark repeatedly invited him to Los Angeles.
As Tony Stark put it, "Come on, big brother Tony has prepared the best comfort for my little brother, to soothe your wounded heart. Don't worry, I'd never make fun of you for losing over a hundred million dollars in investments and hundreds of billions in market prospects."
Xiang Qian couldn't help rolling his eyes. "How effective can your comfort possibly be?"
Tony Stark replied, "Definitely more effective than those two Hilton girls."
Xiang Qian glanced down at the high-society hottie nestled in his arms, completely naked and fast asleep, and expressed his doubts. "I think you're exaggerating."
"Exaggerating? When has Tony Stark ever needed to exaggerate? I can make anything I say come true." Tony Stark sounded smug. "Come on, let me teach you something: you can't talk about a drug's effectiveness without considering the dosage—I've prepared a massive dose for you in Los Angeles."
"What massive dose?"
Pepper Potts's icy, utterly flat voice suddenly cut in over the phone. "The massive dose Mr. Stark mentioned is inviting every model and actress in Los Angeles he can get ahold of to his beach house for an unprecedentedly huge party."
The icy voice made Xiang Qian instinctively huddle deeper under the covers.
Before either man could speak, Pepper continued in the same rigid, frigid tone. "Based on my estimate, Mr. Stark's house, including the lawn on the estate in front, can accommodate a maximum of around three hundred and fifty guests."
"So I took the liberty of limiting the guest list. If we invite only models and actresses with a rating of 87.5 or higher, the number of guests will be just within the venue's capacity."
Xiang Qian asked hesitantly, "A rating? What kind of rating?"
"A data model that gives models and actresses an overall score based on various factors, including looks, figure, and fame. Mr. Tony Stark and Mr. James Zion jointly designed it in 2004."
Maybe it was just his imagination, but Xiang Qian felt that Pepper was gritting her teeth when she mentioned both his and Tony's names. He stammered, "I think Tony's name alone can go down as the patent holder for this data model. I have absolutely no objection."
Tony Stark immediately protested. "You came up with the idea for the data model in the first place."
The two men began bickering over the phone, each trying to shift the blame onto the other.
"I'd like to make it absolutely clear that Tony wrote at least 90 percent of the data model."
"So the underlying framework and the scoring conversion rules, which form its foundation, only make up 10 percent?"
"I remember we used data on actresses provided entirely by Tony when we tested whether the model worked."
"Hey, you were the one who picked the actresses."
"I also think it's strange that no matter which actress I named, Tony always seemed able to find accurate data on her."
"You ungrateful little brat. I organized this PARTY for you, after all. It's your favorite way to unwind."
"ENOUGH!" Pepper Potts shrieked. Silence fell at both ends of the line; the two men shut their mouths in perfect unison.
Stay calm, Virginia Pepper Potts... You have to stay calm! Deep breaths, deep breaths... Don't punch Tony in the face. He's your boss.
He pays your salary, and he even pays for your insurance—including dental!
Pepper repeated those words to herself over and over, clenching and relaxing her fists, then clenching them again. Finally, she let out a long breath.
"I'm going to continue finalizing the guest list now. If Mr. Tony Stark—or Mr. James Zion, of course—has any special requests, please let me know before six tonight... That's all!"
Pepper recited the words almost one at a time, then stomped across the floor in her high heels and hurried out. She was worried that if she stayed to listen to the two men ramble on any longer, she might end up throwing away her job just to punch someone.
There was no sound from the receiver for quite a while. Xiang Qian cautiously asked, "Is she gone?"
"Yes!"
Xiang Qian immediately perked up and started complaining sarcastically into the phone. "You organized that PARTY for me, huh? Are you serious? San Francisco and Los Angeles are six hundred kilometers apart, and you can still pin the blame on me?"
The word "blame" in English didn't carry quite the same meaning as the Chinese expression, but Tony Stark had spent so much time with Xiang Qian that he'd naturally picked it up.
"What else could I do?" Tony said, sounding entirely justified. "You're in San Francisco, six hundred kilometers from Los Angeles. I was just six feet away from Pepper!"
"So that's your excuse for blithely shirking responsibility? Why are you acting like a cheating husband caught in the act?" Xiang Qian scoffed.
"NO! This is just the respect a boss needs to show an outstanding employee."
Xiang Qian sneered. "Tony, you look ridiculous trying to fool yourself."
"Why don't you take a look at yourself?" Tony shot back. "You're six hundred kilometers away, and you still act like you're walking on eggshells around Pepper."
Xiang Qian wasn't about to back down. "I'm afraid of Pepper even from six hundred kilometers away entirely because you're only six feet from her. Bro, you need to understand that without you around, Miss Potts would be no more than a casual acquaintance to me."
"My attitude toward her depends entirely on how you treat her—you just haven't figured that out yet."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
"I think that's entirely your imagination!"
Xiang Qian hung up and couldn't help laughing. The socialite hottie in his arms woke up, squirming restlessly against him as she mumbled, "Are you leaving?"
"Mm-hmm. I'm heading to Los Angeles soon. There's a party I need to attend."
"Can I come?" The socialite hottie immediately perked up. She was quite the party animal herself.
Xiang Qian gently but firmly turned her down. "No, it's... a family gathering."
"Shit!" The hottie flipped him the bird, cursing as she got out of bed and dressed before leaving without another thought.
Xiang Qian strolled over to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed into the distance. After spending more than twenty unrestrained, debauched hours with the two high-society sisters, the midday sun was now pouring through the window.
Now and then, the shimmering waters of San Francisco Bay in the distance reflected off the glass between the buildings. The Golden Gate Bridge's towers, once three hundred meters tall, had been moved elsewhere. The space above where the bridge had stood was now empty, with only half of its shattered span remaining.
The Mutant gene serum incident had come to an end. Apart from Xiang Qian, nearly everyone involved had come away empty-handed. It was time to leave San Francisco.
A convoy of three cars waited conspicuously outside the hotel. Bodyguards formed a ring around Xiang Qian, with layers upon layers of gossip-hungry paparazzi surrounding them. Their fervent dedication to their work was truly astonishing.
It had been only three days since the Alcatraz Island riot. Even with the military and other armed forces clearing the streets, San Francisco remained unsafe. Yet that did nothing to dampen the paparazzi's enthusiasm for chasing gossip.
Xiang Qian didn't choose to fly. Instead, he had the convoy take the highway. He wanted to give the paparazzi a chance to follow him—how else could he keep himself in the spotlight?
In a secret safe house unknown to the public, a certain charcoal-faced director watched Xiang Qian's convoy on a surveillance screen, his single eye gleaming ominously.
"Set up a dedicated surveillance team immediately. Starting today, whenever Xiang Qian enters the United States—no, whenever he leaves China—he is to be monitored around the clock. All information obtained through surveillance is to be classified at level seven."
"I want to know his every move."