The Strongman at the Computer Repair Shop

When the repair shop's ceiling fan let out its countless squeaking wails again, Lin Mo was crouched on the floor, using a wrench to tighten the screws on a server base. Sweat ran down from his temple and dripped onto the grease-stained floor, spreading into a small dark patch. This IBM server had been discarded by the community hospital. It stood nearly waist-high, its metal casing covered in rust, and weighed as much as three toolboxes stuffed with parts.

"Need a hand?" Carlos stood beside the workbench with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, watching Lin Mo's thin back with a frown. Just yesterday, the kid had complained to Ted that carrying a monitor made his back ache. Today, he actually dared to take on this "hunk of iron" by himself.

Without looking up, Lin Mo twisted off the last screw with a click. "I'm fine. Almost done." He took a deep breath, gripped the server's handles with both hands, and applied a little force—

"Bzz—" The wheels beneath the server suddenly rolled. Lin Mo barely had to exert himself before he easily pushed the bulky machine—normally requiring two strong men to lift—to its designated spot. It stopped perfectly steadily, without even knocking a single strand of solder off the corner of the table.

The cigarette nearly fell from Carlos's mouth. Smoke drifted before his eyes, blurring his vision. "You kid..."

Lin Mo straightened up, dusted off his hands, and smiled. "Maybe I'm just in good shape today." He didn't dare tell the truth, so he could only offer a lame excuse. Ever since receiving Beast's physical enhancement, his synchronization rate had risen to 30%. Forget this server—even the old printer beside it, he could lift one-handed and spin around.

"In good shape?" Carlos walked over and pointed at the server with his cigarette. "That thing weighs four hundred pounds. You think it's made of paper?" He suddenly reached out and squeezed Lin Mo's arm. The muscle definition was indeed more obvious than before, but not enough to explain lifting a server. "Seriously, Lin, have you been secretly taking steroids? I know a doctor who can check you for side effects."

"Of course not." Lin Mo raised his arm and struck an exaggerated muscle pose. "Chinese kung fu—using four ounces to move a thousand pounds. You get it?" He deliberately stressed the words "kung fu," teasing him a little.

Carlos snorted and didn't press further. He turned to greet the customer at the entrance, but muttered under his breath, "What kind of kung fu lets someone move a four-hundred-pound hunk of iron?" Lin Mo watched his back and quietly relaxed. Luckily, his old friend hadn't dug any deeper, or he really wouldn't have known how to explain it.

At ten in the morning, a bespectacled middle-aged man rushed into the repair shop carrying a warped computer desk. One of its legs had bent at a ninety-degree angle, and a crack ran across the desktop. "Can you fix it, sir? My grandfather passed this down to me. I've used it for thirty years." His voice was choked with emotion as his fingers gently stroked the scratches on the tabletop, as though comforting an old friend.

Lin Mo took the desk, and it was heavier than he had expected. It was made of mahogany, and the carved legs had been polished smooth with age. It truly had some history behind it. He scanned it with his dynamic vision. The mortise-and-tenon joints in the leg hadn't broken; they had merely been knocked out of alignment by an external impact. It could theoretically be repaired, but it would take considerable strength to bend it back into place.

"I'll give it a try." Lin Mo set the desk on the floor, gripped the crooked leg with both hands, and took a deep breath. He could feel his muscles tense slightly as five times the strength flowed through his arms like a gentle stream. Rather than forcing it immediately, he first found the point of leverage, then gave it a light push—

Crack! The crisp sound echoed through the repair shop. Lin Mo had actually bent the warped table leg back into place by force, even aligning the crack. He quickly took out some glue, squeezed it into the gap, and secured everything with clamps. The entire process took less than five minutes.

The bespectacled man stared in disbelief. His briefcase dropped from his hand with a smack. "Y-you... how did you do that? I hired three movers, and none of them could bend it!"

"Just got lucky." Lin Mo smiled as he wiped the glue from his hands. "It'll be usable once the glue dries. Just remember not to put anything too heavy on it again."

The man thanked him profusely. Before leaving, he stuffed a business card into Lin Mo's hand. "I'm the woodworking teacher at the community middle school. If you ever need furniture repaired, come find me. It's free!"

Carlos leaned against the doorframe, so distracted that he didn't notice his cigarette had nearly burned down to his fingers. "That move just now was stronger than hydraulic pliers." He walked over to Lin Mo and suddenly lowered his voice. "When I was young, I worked the docks. I've seen real strongmen. Your strength is even stranger than theirs."

Lin Mo's heart tightened. Just as he was about to explain, the bell over the door interrupted him. A man in a suit entered carrying a monitor with a sticky note on the screen: "Black screen. Urgent repair."

"Put it here. Come pick it up this afternoon." Lin Mo took the monitor. It felt very light—a latest-model ultrathin display. Out of habit, he pinched the frame with his fingers to check the material—

Crack!

The crisp breaking sound instantly silenced the entire repair shop. Lin Mo looked down. He had pinched a hole in the monitor's plastic frame, and fragments fell to the floor like scattered shards of glass. The suited man's eyes widened. He pointed at the monitor, unable to speak for a long moment.

"I..." Lin Mo's face instantly turned red as liver. He wished he could crawl into a crack in the floor. He had forgotten to control his strength! Five times the strength had seemed barely enough when moving servers, but pinching this plastic frame was like crushing a cookie.

"This... this is brand-new!" The man finally came to his senses, his voice trembling. "Ten thousand dollars! My client is waiting to use it!"

Carlos hurried over and patted the man's shoulder. "Don't get worked up. We'll compensate you. We definitely will." He shot Lin Mo a glare so furious it could have melted solder. "What are you standing there for? Apologize to the customer!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Lin Mo bowed repeatedly, cursing the damned physical enhancement a thousand times in his heart. "I'll buy you a new one. The exact same model."

The man clearly didn't believe him. He stood there with his arms crossed, suspicion written all over his face. "Can you afford it? This is a professional graphics monitor, not some cheap supermarket junk."

Lin Mo gritted his teeth and took out a bank card from the drawer. "I'll go buy one right now. Please wait." The card held the savings he had accumulated over half a year. He had originally planned to replace his oscilloscope, but now it looked like he would have to compensate for the monitor first.

Carlos suddenly pressed down on his hand and said to the man, "I know a distributor. I can get an internal price—twenty percent off. This two thousand dollars will be our compensation." He took a stack of cash from the safe and shoved it into the man's hands. "Half as a deposit first. We'll have a new one delivered within half an hour."

The man accepted the money, and his expression softened a little. "Fine. I'll wait here."

Lin Mo followed Carlos out of the repair shop, but before he could speak, Carlos cut him off. "What the hell is going on with you?" Carlos kept his voice low, but the disappointment in his eyes hurt more than anger. "I know you want to make more money, but you can't take it out on customers' property."

"I really didn't mean to." Lin Mo's voice trembled slightly. "I can't control my strength. It's like... like I suddenly have endless energy." He hesitated before deciding to tell the truth. "Carlos, I didn't take steroids. It's... after that fire, my body suddenly became like this. I don't know why either."

Carlos stared at him for a long time. The cigarette burned down between his fingers, and only when it scorched him did he suddenly fling it away. "Does it have something to do with when you saved old lady Irene?"

Lin Mo nodded, his heart hammering—he was gambling that Carlos knew something. From those "special parts" to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hard drive, his old friend was definitely not as simple as he appeared.

Carlos suddenly sighed and pulled his car keys from his pocket. "Come on. Let's get the monitor." He started the car, watched the streets slide past outside the window, and suddenly said, "I ran into strange things when I was young too. There was a Black man at the docks who could punch through a shipping container. Later, someone in a black suit took him away, and I never saw him again."

Lin Mo's breathing caught. "Someone in a black suit?"

"Yeah. A little like that Phil Coulson guy who came to repair a hard drive last time." Carlos turned the steering wheel, and the car entered an alley. "They called people like that 'assets.' Makes them sound like objects, not people." He turned his head, a complicated look in his eyes. "Do you want to become an 'asset'?"

Lin Mo violently shook his head. "No." He only wanted to repair computers, stay at the repair shop, and live peacefully with Ted, Peter, and the others. He didn't want anyone taking him away.

"Then learn to control your strength." Carlos parked outside an electronics store. "Don't cause any more trouble, especially don't let those people in black suits notice you."

Watching Carlos's back as he entered the store, Lin Mo suddenly felt that his old friend was even more dependable than he had imagined. He touched the wristband on his arm. At some point, his synchronization rate had risen to 35%, and a new prompt appeared below: [Skill Unlocked: Power Control (freely adjust output strength, precision error ±5%)]

"Finally." Lin Mo let out a breath of relief and tried clenching his fist. He could clearly feel the strength flowing through his fingertips, like water from a faucet with a valve that could be turned on or off at will.

When they returned to the repair shop, the new monitor had already been installed. The man was inspecting it with a satisfied expression. "You'd better be more careful this time." He patted Lin Mo's shoulder. "Don't crush it again."

Lin Mo smiled awkwardly, but he felt much more at ease. With the Power Control skill, he would no longer have to worry about breaking things.

That afternoon, Ted suddenly rushed into the repair shop carrying an enormous magic box. "Mo, help me take a look! The lock on this box is stuck, and I have a show tomorrow!"

Lin Mo took the magic box and used Power Control to set his strength to twenty percent. With a light pull—Snap! The latch sprang open. Props spilled out from inside: colorful silk scarves, plastic doves, and a familiar tin turkey with a bandage still stuck to one wing.

"That's amazing!" Ted excitedly stuffed the props back into the box. "I knew coming to you was the right call! Oh, right—Aunt May made barbecue tonight. She said you absolutely have to come."

"Okay." Lin Mo agreed with a smile, warmth filling his heart.

At the end of the workday, Carlos placed a stack of bills in front of him. "The monitor money. I negotiated with the distributor and got it down to thirty percent off. This is what's left."

Lin Mo froze. "Carlos, this..."

"Take it." Carlos shoved the money into his hand. "Call it your 'manual labor allowance.'" He paused, and a rare smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "From now on, all the server-moving jobs are yours."

Lin Mo looked at the money in his hand, then at Carlos's departing back. Suddenly, the repair shop no longer felt like just a workplace. It felt more like home. There was a nagging but reliable boss, noisy friends, endless computers to fix, and endless embarrassing mishaps.

As he walked out of the repair shop, the setting sun painted the street gold and red. Lin Mo saw Peter with a backpack slung over his shoulder, crouching by the roadside to feed a stray cat. The spider in the glass jar poked its head out and curiously studied the world.

"Brother Lin!" Peter looked up, his eyes lighting up. "Look at the Web-Shooters I made! They can stick to something that weighs ten pounds!"

Lin Mo walked over and carefully picked up the shooters using his newly unlocked Power Control skill. He inspected them closely. "Not bad. They're much sturdier than last time." He handed them back to Peter, then remembered the monitor he had crushed that morning and couldn't help laughing.

Maybe this physical enhancement had indeed brought plenty of trouble, but it also gave him more confidence to protect these warm moments. Whether he was moving servers, repairing computer desks, or accidentally crushing monitors, they were all proof that he truly existed in this world.

Lin Mo touched the wristband on his arm. His synchronization rate remained steady at 35%, and the check mark beside Power Control was especially eye-catching. He knew he still had much to learn—not only how to control his strength, but also how to protect ordinary happiness in this world full of unknowns.