Beautiful Female Secretary

Footsteps came from the stairs.

Light, steady—each step spaced as if measured. The crisp sound of heels touching the floor was clear without being harsh. This was not the gait of an ordinary office worker.

Chen Xiao tilted his head for a look.

Her red hair was swept into a neat bun, with a few loose strands falling beside her ears and tracing two curves along her neck. Her black business skirt suit outlined a balanced, understated figure, the hem falling just to her knees and revealing a section of straight calves. The collar of her white shirt was slightly open, and a thin silver necklace rested beneath her collarbones, its pendant hidden inside her shirt and catching the light now and then. Her makeup was refined but light, the foundation thin enough to show her skin's natural texture, her lips a muted rose-brown.

As she descended the stairs, she looked like the cover image of a magazine's "workplace elite."

But she carried a briefcase, and her expression was the standard "secretary here to report on work"—slightly furrowed brows, concerned eyes, lips pressed into just the right curve. Flawless.

Chen Xiao clicked his tongue inwardly. As expected of the Black Widow. That figure, that face. Dressed like this on a field assignment, the other side would be too busy staring at her to remember what they had meant to say.

He looked away and continued leaning against the wall, drinking his cola. Condensation covered the bottle, cold beneath his fingers.

Natasha Romanoff walked up to Tony, her tone professional and concerned. "Mr. Stark, your urgent message. What happened?"

Tony opened his mouth. He had not figured out how to explain, "I was about to die, then a mage saved me, and then my assistant turned out to be an agent." He glanced at Chen Xiao, but Chen Xiao was not looking at him. He was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Uh... it's nothing major." Tony's voice was a little weak. "I just wanted to confirm next week's schedule."

Natasha's brow twitched slightly. She clearly did not believe him, but she did not press the matter. She merely nodded and pulled out a tablet from her briefcase, ready to take notes.

Chen Xiao pushed himself off the wall, shoved his hands into his pockets, and sauntered over. His flip-flops slapped against the floor, loud in the quiet laboratory. He stopped before Natasha, tilted his head as he looked her over, and wore a lazy smile.

"And this is?"

Tony said, "My personal secretary, Natalie Rushman."

Chen Xiao drew out an "Oh." His gaze slowly shifted from her face to her eyes and stopped there.

Those eyes—emerald green and clear, yet with a vigilance buried deep within, one that could only be suppressed after countless trials. Like a cat: its claws were tucked away, but that did not mean they would not come out.

He withdrew his gaze, turned back to the workbench, and took a swig of cola. Carbonation burst across his tongue. He set the bottle down and slipped his hands back into his pockets.

"All right, go tell Braised Egg. Everything Tony's father left behind—models, videotapes, documents—sort it out and send it over immediately."

Natasha's brow twitched again, but her smile remained perfectly appropriate, carrying the polite air of, "You might be joking, but as a professional, I am willing to cooperate." "Mr. Chen, I'm not sure what you mean. Mr. Stark's father passed away many years ago—"

"You are sure." Chen Xiao cut her off. His tone was not harsh, but he did not feel like playing any more back-and-forth probing games with her. In another place, at another time, perhaps he would not have minded.

"Your whatever Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division has quite the long reach. You pocket everything you can. You held onto Howard Stark's belongings for over twenty years and refused to give them to his son. Are you safeguarding them for the government, or waiting for them to appreciate in value?"

Tony abruptly turned to stare at Natasha. "What belongings? My father left something for me?"

Natasha's expression did not change. But Chen Xiao noticed her fingers tighten slightly around the briefcase handle—her nails had gone white.

Chen Xiao took another drink of cola and continued casually, as if discussing the weather. "And you—Natasha Romanoff. Red Room graduate, later transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson's colleague. Your director, Nick Fury, is very dark, likes wearing a black trench coat, and has one blind eye. Don't you think he looks like a braised egg?"

He leaned against the edge of the table, folded his arms, and looked into her eyes.

"I can't be bothered talking to an errand-running agent. Have Braised Egg come himself."

The laboratory fell silent for a moment. The Arc Reactor's hum continued softly from the corner.

Natasha neither denied it nor panicked. Having understood the nickname "Braised Egg," she fell silent for a moment and suppressed the upward twitch of her lips.

She set down her briefcase, straightened up, and let her hands hang naturally at her sides. Her stance changed from "secretary" to "agent"—her movements had not changed, but her presence had. Her shoulders opened, her center of gravity lowered slightly, and she became like a blade sheathed in its scabbard.

"Mr. Chen, you are far more interesting than our files described."

Chen Xiao smiled. "You have a file on me?"

"Since the first time you approached Mr. Stark at that gala." She turned to Tony, her expression calm and formal. "Mr. Stark, my real name is Natasha Romanoff. I am a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, assigned to protect and assess your condition."

Tony jumped down from the workbench, his voice rising several pitches. "What? My assistant is an agent? My secretary is a spy? How many more of your people are in my company?"

Natasha did not answer. She simply looked at him.

Chen Xiao added gloomily from the side, "S.H.I.E.L.D.? Wasn't your name something like... Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division?"

Natasha's lips twitched slightly, as if he had hit some sore spot. She corrected him, "The director changed the name. It is now S.H.I.E.L.D."

Chen Xiao raised an eyebrow. "Why did he suddenly decide to change it?"

Natasha's gaze drifted toward Tony. Tony was still stunned, brow tightly furrowed and lips moving as if he were calculating how many people around him were actually normal. He did not notice her look.

Chen Xiao followed her gaze, understood, and curled his lips upward. "You took his complaint seriously?"

Natasha neither admitted nor denied it. She merely withdrew her gaze and continued looking at Tony. Her tone returned to calm. "I do not have the authority to handle Howard Stark's belongings. That batch of materials is under the director's direct control. I can only report this."

Chen Xiao's smile faded, and his tone turned more serious. He pushed himself away from the table and walked up to Natasha, stepping closer while keeping an appropriate distance.

"You protect him? Assess him?" He raised a hand and pointed his thumb at Tony. "You do not even understand his physical condition. Palladium poisoning, eighty-three percent. His neck was nearly black all the way to his temples. Did your assessment report mention that?"

Natasha's gaze fell on Tony's neck. Though Chen Xiao had suppressed most of the dark veins, faint traces remained, spreading from beneath his collar and appearing beneath his skin like dark watermarks left on a beach after the tide receded.

She fell silent.

"No, right?" Chen Xiao's voice was not loud, but every word struck hard. "You planted someone beside him and monitored his every move, yet you did not even know he was about to die. And you are still playing mysterious?"

Ethan emerged from the corner with a cup of coffee in hand and added expressionlessly, "He didn't die because someone meddled."

Chen Xiao turned and glared at Ethan. Ethan's expression did not change. He lowered his head, took a sip of coffee, and retreated into the corner.

Natasha looked at Chen Xiao, then at the lingering traces on Tony's neck. After a moment of silence, she gave a slight nod. There was a touch more sincerity in her voice—not professional courtesy, but the honest gravity that came only after someone had truly struck a nerve, carrying a hint of apology.

"Mr. Chen, I will take your words back with me. Also—thank you."

She paused.

"I owe you a favor. You did not let my mission fail."

Chen Xiao waved a hand, his tone returning to its lazy drawl. "No need. Just send the things over."

He turned back to the workbench, picked up the cola, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he looked back at her.

"Oh, right. Tell Braised Egg not to send subordinates to pass messages anymore. Tony has less than a month left. I don't have time to go through procedures with you people. If he wants to talk, he can come himself."

Natasha's eyes lingered on his face for a moment. She did not say, "I'll pass it on." She only nodded.

She turned and headed toward the stairs. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back at Chen Xiao.

"Mr. Chen, I will relay the term 'Braised Egg' exactly as you said it."

Chen Xiao smiled and raised his cola bottle. "Go ahead. It's not like he doesn't know."

Natasha's lips moved slightly—whether it was a smile or not, he could not tell—but there was a little more warmth in her eyes. She turned and went upstairs, her footsteps gradually fading, light and steady, just as they had been when she arrived.

The laboratory fell quiet.

The blue light of the holographic display slowly revolved through the room. Cross-sectional diagrams of the telescoping mechanism unfolded layer by layer, precise and cold, as though nothing had happened. Tony stood where he was, staring in the direction Natasha had disappeared for a long time.

"Chen Xiao."

"Yeah."

"You knew she was an agent all along?"

"Yeah."

"How did you know?"

Chen Xiao took a drink of cola. "My master is the Sorcerer Supreme. She can see parts of the timeline."

When in doubt, blame the Sorcerer Supreme.

"So," Tony lowered his voice, "you know what will happen in the future?"

"Some of it."

"Will you tell me?"

"I'll tell you what you need to know." Chen Xiao set down his cola and walked to the holographic display, patting the rotating Stick model. "What you shouldn't know won't help you even if you do know."

Tony stared at his back for two seconds, then lowered his head to look at the folder in his hand. Howard's photograph, the Arc Reactor blueprints, notes he had never seen before.

"Then the things my dad left behind... do they really have a cure?"

"Once you finish looking through what your father left you, you'll have your answer."

Chen Xiao pulled up Stick's design blueprint and watched it slowly rotate in the blue light. The cursor still blinked over the cross-sectional diagram of the telescoping mechanism, like some kind of urging.

"All right. Stop thinking about it. Finish drawing my Stick first."

Tony walked over and placed his fingers on the keyboard. He typed a few times, then paused.

"Chen Xiao."

"Yeah."

"Why are you helping me?"

Chen Xiao did not answer immediately.

He remembered the way Tony had sat in the corner in the video. Messy hair, an untrimmed beard, dark circles beneath his eyes. Beneath that shell of "I don't care anymore" was someone who, even while dying, was still thinking of others. Someone who had not even bothered to arrange his own funeral, yet had left one-third of his fortune to a mage he had known for less than a year.

Chen Xiao was silent for a few seconds. The holographic display's blue light fell across his face, hiding his expression.

"Those things you said in your last words." When he finally spoke, his tone carried a trace of disdain to hide his embarrassment. "Look at you. You were about to die, and you still thought about so much. You even divided up your inheritance."

He paused.

"Pretty stupid."

Then he picked up his cola and took another drink, set the bottle back down, shoved both hands into his pockets, and leaned against the wall.

"Draw faster! Go work!"

Tony's fingers froze over the keyboard. He turned his head and looked at Chen Xiao speechlessly.