Waiting

The kerosene lamp in the basement flickered, casting Lin Mo's hunched shadow against the wall. He sat on the cold concrete steps with a faded blanket draped over his knees—one Aunt May had knitted, its stitches crooked but exceptionally warm. Snow was still falling outside, its soft rustle like silkworms chewing mulberry leaves, wrapping the winter night in a gentle silence.

The wristband on his arm was dark. Only when he turned it at an angle could he see the faint blue glow at the edge of the screen, like a firefly trapped in ice. [Countdown: 1 day 0 hours 15 minutes.] That number had circled through his mind for an entire week, shifting from initial anxiety to his current calm, like a cup of hot tea slowly cooling.

Lin Mo exhaled a puff of white vapor and watched it disperse beneath the lamp. It had been three hundred and fifty-eight days since he had crossed into this world—just seven days shy of a full year. He still remembered the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes: a damp alley, a reeking garbage bin, and nothing in his pockets but half a crumpled pack of cigarettes and an ID card bearing the name "Lin Mo." At first, he had thought it was a dream. It was not until a patrolling police officer questioned him that he realized he had truly stumbled into the Marvel universe—a dangerous world where superheroes filled the skies and aliens roamed the streets.

Click. A faint sound came from above the stairs. Lin Mo looked up and saw Snowball's head poke through the crack in the door, emerald-like eyes gleaming in the darkness. The fat cat leaped down lightly, climbed up his pant leg onto his lap, pressed its cold nose against the back of his hand, and purred contentedly.

"Did Martha kick you out again?" Lin Mo smiled and scratched beneath its chin. Since the Christmas market, the fat cat had made a habit of sneaking into his basement in the middle of the night, probably because it remembered the cat biscuits Ted had slipped him.

Snowball meowed and curled its tail around his wrist, covering the wristband perfectly. Lin Mo suddenly remembered what it had looked like when they first met: huddled behind the radiator in Martha's home, so skinny that its ribs showed, its eyes filled with wariness. Now it had become a plump cat that only dared act up on his lap, with even its walk swaying beneath the weight of its extra flesh.

The world was changing, and so was the cat. Looking down at Snowball, he suddenly felt that the past year was like a crumpled sheet of paper, every unfolded inch filled with tiny creases: the embarrassment of being stuck in a wall, the searing heat of rescuing someone from a fire, the panic of scrambling for eggs, Martha's concentration as she knitted socks, Ted's clumsiness with magic props, Peter's excitement as he held up his camera... The life pieced together from those fragments gave him more peace of mind than any superhero legend ever could.

A mouse rustled in the corner. Snowball's ears shot upright, but it could not be bothered to move—probably because it knew Lin Mo would use his phasing ability to drive the mouse away. It was an understanding between them, just as he knew that every time Ted talked about "going to Las Vegas," he was boasting; that Peter was nearly out of spider feed hidden beneath his bed; and that when Martha called someone "little brat," she was actually smiling.

Lin Mo rose and walked to the desk, where the kerosene lamp illuminated an open notebook. On its last page was a crooked calendar, with scattered notes beside every date: "March 17, first successful trip through a wall, banged the back of my head." "June 2, helped old Irene rescue her cat, got scratched." "November 5, Ted's magic show failed, burned a hole in the turkey prop." ... The newest line had been written yesterday: "December 23, helped Peter fix his web-shooter, increased its range to five meters."

Those ordinary records might have seemed insignificant to anyone else, but to him, they were proof that he had truly existed in this world. Lin Mo picked up a pencil and drew a tiny snowman in the blank space, wearing a red wool hat—exactly like the one he and Peter had built in the community square.

Sizzle— A spark popped from the kerosene lamp's wick. Lin Mo turned toward the window. The snow had stopped, and moonlight filtered through frost-covered glass, casting mottled shadows across the floor. He could make out the outline of the rooftop across the way, where S.H.I.E.L.D. watchers had once stood. Now it was empty. Ever since Phil Coulson had disappeared in Pepper Town—Peter said the news mentioned he was "on a secret mission"—those barely perceptible gazes had vanished as if they had never existed.

Maybe Martha's words had worked. Or maybe he had truly hidden himself well enough. Lin Mo touched the folding knife in his pocket—Carlos's birthday gift to him, supposedly "for dealing with punks." The old man might have been sharp-tongued, but he always left the repair shop's light on when Lin Mo came home late, and had even secretly stuffed emergency food into his toolbox.

The basement door eased open, and Ted poked his head inside, snowflakes still clinging to his hair. "Still awake? I made hot cocoa. Want a cup?" He raised the mug in his hand. The sweet scent of chocolate drifted through the doorway, mingling with the chill of the snowy night and becoming especially tempting.

"Sure." Lin Mo set Snowball on the floor and followed Ted upstairs. Ted's basement was a little neater than his, its walls covered in magic posters and its corners piled with assorted props: a box missing a leg, a cape with holes in it, and a flattened tin turkey—the "casualty" of the Christmas market performance.

"Watch this new trick I learned." Ted proudly took out a glass, filled it with hot cocoa, then covered its mouth with a handkerchief and yanked it away. The liquid in the glass had turned into foam, piled high like the froth on beer. "Well? Impressive, right?"

Lin Mo smiled and took a sip. The sweet, rich warmth slid down his throat and into his stomach, driving the chill from his bones. "Impressive. Much better than that 'human levitation' act of yours."

"Of course!" Ted lifted his chin smugly. "I learned this from an old friend who retired from the circus. He said I had talent and told me to try my luck in Las Vegas when spring comes."

Lin Mo did not respond. He only watched Ted's excited expression. He knew that dream of Las Vegas might never come true, but the light in Ted's eyes whenever he mentioned it was more moving than any magic trick. Just as Lin Mo knew tomorrow's new ability might be insignificant, yet still could not help looking forward to it.

The two drank their hot cocoa in silence. Only the clock on the wall ticked away, as if counting down to the coming dawn. Snowlight fell through the window onto Ted's face, and Lin Mo suddenly noticed the fine lines at the corners of the man's eyes, along with several white hairs hidden at his temples.

"Tell me," Ted suddenly said, his voice a little muffled, "will our whole lives just be like this? Fixing things, doing magic tricks, watching the snow fall, then slowly growing old?"

Lin Mo looked at the snow outside and thought of the wool socks Martha had knitted, the photos Peter had taken, and old Irene's thank-you card. "This is pretty good," he said earnestly.

Ted froze for a moment, then smiled and drained the rest of his hot cocoa in one gulp. "You're right. It's pretty good."

When he returned to his basement, Snowball was already asleep on the blanket, its little belly rising and falling unevenly. Lin Mo lay down on the cot, listening to the wind outside as sleep gradually came over him. Half-awake and half-asleep, he seemed to return to the rented apartment from before he crossed over, staying up late before his computer screen to revise proposals while the city's never-extinguished neon lights glowed outside. Back then, he had never imagined that one day, he would lie awake in a basement in the Marvel world because he was waiting for an unknown superpower.

He did not know how long passed before the wristband suddenly vibrated. Its screen lit up with a soft glow, but no notification appeared. Lin Mo opened his eyes and saw the pale light of dawn outside. The snow reflected a faint golden glow. A new day had begun.

He sat up and watched the countdown on the wristband change to [0 days 23 hours 59 minutes]. His heart was unusually calm. Whether it was Wolverine's healing factor, Cyclops's optic blasts, or even just Hawkeye's precision marksmanship, it suddenly seemed not to matter.

Because he was no longer that penniless, terrified traveler. He had a basement to shelter him from the wind and rain, a skill for repairing computers, a friend who brought him hot cocoa in the middle of the night, elderly women who cared about him, a boy who saw him as an older brother, and a fat cat that always came by to steal warmth.

Those small, scattered moments of warmth were like countless threads, binding him tightly to this dangerous yet captivating world.

Lin Mo walked to the window and pushed it open a crack. The cold morning air rushed in, carrying the unique freshness that followed snow. In the community square, Peter was already clearing snow, his red scarf fluttering in the wind like a dancing flame. Not far away, smoke curled from Martha's chimney; she was probably making breakfast. The repair shop's shutter was half-open, and Carlos's silhouette moved inside, likely checking his tools.

The wristband vibrated softly on his arm, its countdown ticking onward: [0 days 23 hours 55 minutes].

Lin Mo smiled. In less than a day, his new ability would arrive. But before then, he wanted to have a bowl of Aunt May's hot porridge, help Peter build the snowman a little taller, lend Carlos a hand at the repair shop, and watch Ted practice his latest magic trick.

Those ordinary things were more worth anticipating than any superpower.

He closed the window and turned to pick up his toolbox. Sunlight shone through the frost, casting brilliant colors across the floor. Snowball curled up on the blanket, dozing, while the calendar on the wall fluttered gently in the breeze.

Waiting might be long, but as long as he had these warm presences around him, even the longest wait would become sweet. Lin Mo knew that no matter what ability he received tomorrow, no matter what challenges awaited him in the future, he would not be alone.