Charity Gala

The charity gala was held in the banquet hall of a five-star hotel in Manhattan.

Crystal chandeliers lit the entire hall as bright as day. Long tables were draped in snowy white cloths, and silverware gleamed beneath the lights.

Below the stage, a young Asian man in a black tailcoat held a plate and absentmindedly poked at the desserts on the table with his fork. He still liked these sweets very much, popping them into his mouth one after another so quickly that the waiters had to keep wheeling over carts to replenish the supply.

Daniel had helped him get the ticket.

Thinking about it, Chen Xiao was rather surprised—Kamar-Taj actually had quite a few public-facing assets in New York: real estate, investments, even a law firm. It was only when Daniel casually said, "If senior brother wants to go, I'll have someone send over an invitation," that Chen Xiao realized these sorcerers had far deeper roots in the ordinary world than he had imagined.

He sent the last bite of chocolate mousse into his mouth, then looked past the crowd at the man speaking onstage.

Tony Stark.

He wore an impeccably tailored black suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a sliver of collarbone. Standing before the microphone, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other gesturing casually, he spoke as if he were chatting in his own living room rather than addressing hundreds of social elites.

"...So, I've decided to donate another twenty million to the New York Public Library's children's reading program. After all, if kids can't even afford books, how will they ever get the chance to become someone as outstanding as me?"

Laughter and applause broke out below the stage.

Tony Stark tipped up his chin slightly, that signature smile curling at his lips—charming and thoroughly punchable at the same time.

Chen Xiao narrowed his eyes and watched him for two seconds.

Ah, he had to admit that seeing Tony in person was quite different from seeing him in the movies.

Movie Tony Stark had already been plenty flashy, but this real, living, breathing Tony Stark standing beneath the spotlight was at least three times worse.

Every microexpression, every gesture, every inflection silently conveyed the same message: I'm the smartest person here, and the most interesting one too. It's an honor for you to be in the same room as me.

And Chen Xiao had to admit that he was right.

That was the most infuriating part.

The speech ended. Tony stepped off the stage amid applause and was immediately surrounded by a group of beautiful women. Blonde, redhead, brunette—the colors of their evening gowns were more varied than the desserts on the table. They laughed and chatted, lightly placing their hands on Tony's arms as though competing for a limited-edition luxury item.

Tony himself was like a shark swimming through a school of fish, effortlessly handling each of them with that roguish smile still on his face.

Chen Xiao set down his empty plate and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. He raised it to his lips, took a small sip, then casually turned around and spat the wine into the soil of a nearby potted plant.

Holding the glass, he gently swirled it with his fingers. The golden liquid spun faster and faster, forming a tiny whirlpool. At its center, the pale gold gradually darkened until it became a deep brown liquid fizzing with tiny bubbles.

Cola.

The champagne in the glass had been completely replaced in just a few swirls.

Chen Xiao looked at the contents of his glass with satisfaction, raised it to his lips, and took a sip. Sweet, fizzy, perfect.

He looked around to make sure no one had noticed the liquid in his glass undergo such a drastic transformation in a matter of seconds. Then, carrying the cola disguised as champagne, he headed toward Tony Stark.

The crowd automatically parted to make a narrow path for him, not because he had any sort of intimidating presence, but because he walked with such certainty, like someone who knew exactly where he was going. Others instinctively moved aside.

"Sir, you can stop there."

Happy stretched out an arm, blocking Chen Xiao's path to Tony. His voice was not loud, but it carried weight, with the unmistakable tone of someone who was not making a suggestion.

Ah, Happy. Tony's bodyguard. Not top-tier, perhaps, but loyal enough. Chen Xiao rather liked the man.

He stopped and raised his glass in greeting.

"Don't be nervous, Mr. Hogan." Chen Xiao smiled, his tone as easygoing as if he were greeting an old friend. "I'm just here to make a toast."

Happy did not move aside. His brow furrowed even more deeply.

Although Tony was flirting with the women around him, he noticed the situation as well. He tilted his head and looked at Chen Xiao over Happy's broad shoulder. The glance was brief, but penetrating, like a scanner completing an assessment in a fraction of a second: age, clothing, temperament, whether he carried a weapon, whether he was worth the time.

Then Tony smiled.

He reached out and patted Happy on the shoulder. "Relax, Happy. This kid doesn't look like he's here to cause trouble."

Happy hesitated, then stepped aside to open a path, though his gaze never left Chen Xiao's hands.

Chen Xiao walked forward and stopped in front of Tony.

Up close, Tony Stark was even more... dazzling than he had been onstage. Not literally dazzling, but in the sense of an aura that radiated from within, confidence so overwhelming it bordered on arrogance. His eyes were bright, reflecting the light of the crystal chandeliers, and the curve of his smile was perfectly measured—not a fraction too much, not a fraction too little, like an expression refined through precise calculation.

"Tony Stark." Chen Xiao raised his glass and addressed him formally. "I've heard much about you."

Tony did not raise his glass. He merely looked Chen Xiao over from head to toe as though examining a product of little value.

"You know me," Tony said, "but I don't know who you are. That's not fair."

His tone was casual, even faintly joking.

But Chen Xiao found it deeply unpleasant. The implication was obvious: You're not worth my time getting to know, so introduce yourself.

Chen Xiao did not mind.

"Chen Xiao," he said. "An ordinary person who came here because of your reputation."

"Ordinary person?" Tony raised a brow and repeated the phrase as though savoring an uncommon joke.

"Ordinary person." Chen Xiao confirmed it, lifting his glass slightly. "No power, no influence, no special talents. The sort who muddles through life waiting to die. The vast majority of people on Earth."

Tony stared at him for two seconds, then laughed.

It was not the polite smile used at social occasions, but a genuine smile carrying a trace of cruelty—the sort only someone above would show when looking down at someone below.

"So," Tony took a glass of whiskey from the beauty beside him and gently swirled it, "an ordinary person snuck into a charity gala that ordinary people can't attend, wearing a pretty decent tailcoat—I'll admit, your tailor is better than average—holding a glass of..."

He suddenly leaned a little closer, his gaze falling on Chen Xiao's glass.

"...something that isn't champagne."

Chen Xiao's heart skipped a beat. Countless tiny bubbles rose and burst against the transparent wall of the glass. Ah, he had been careless. He had not expected Tony to be so perceptive.

Tony straightened, the smile at his lips deepening. "Let me guess some more. When you walked in, security at the entrance didn't stop you, so you have an invitation. But invitations are the sort of thing anyone in this city can get if they find the right person and spend a little money. You're not media, not a politician, not an entrepreneur, not even one of those third-rate minor celebrities who brings a date to mooch free food and drinks."

He took a sip of whiskey.

"You're a... how should I put it? Someone with absolutely no concept of 'high society.' You eat desserts at fast-food speed, and you hold a wineglass like it's a teacup."

Chen Xiao opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Tony continued.

"So, let me sum this up. An ordinary person of unknown origin got an invitation he shouldn't have, put on a respectable outfit, held a glass of who-knows-what, and walked over here to toast me."

He paused and tilted his head.

"What do you want from me? An autograph? A photo? Or are you going to tell me one of those 'I have a great idea, I just need some startup capital' stories?"

The women beside him laughed, their voices as crisp as clinking glasses.

Chen Xiao's hand holding the glass did not move in the slightest.

Oh, so Tony seemed like a pretty decent guy—that had been what he thought before walking over here.

Now he had changed his mind.

Tony Stark at this point in time really was irritating. Not irritating in the sense of "I'm just evil," but in the sense of "I'm smart enough to see through you at a glance, and I don't mind saying so in public."

Arrogant and disdainful. Every word he spoke reminded people that there was a gulf between them that they could never cross.

And the most infuriating part was that he was basically right about everything.

Still, none of it really mattered.

He genuinely did not care much about high-society etiquette. He held a wineglass that way simply because it was more convenient for drinking.

Faced with Tony's mockery, Chen Xiao had no intention of explaining himself.

"An autograph would work," Chen Xiao said without changing expression, even managing to keep a smile at the corner of his mouth. "A photo would work too. I don't have a startup-capital story, but if you're interested, I can tell you how an ordinary person got into this gala through luck."

Tony's brow lifted slightly.

He had not expected that response.

Most people—most people he had mocked like this in public—

Either blushed, flew into embarrassed rage, or left with an awkward smile. But the young man in front of him neither blushed nor got angry, nor did he show any intention of leaving.

He stood there holding that glass of who-knew-what, smiling with complete composure.

It was like punching cotton.

Tony set down his whiskey, pulled a pen from Happy's pocket, then snatched a napkin from a passing waiter's tray. He scribbled an autograph across it and handed it to Chen Xiao.

"Take it," Tony said. "Don't lose it. When you're old, this thing will be worth a lot."

His tone remained lofty and casual, like he was handing out charity.

Chen Xiao accepted the napkin and glanced down at it. The signature was messy, but it was indeed Tony Stark's handwriting. The horizontal stroke on the T stretched long, carrying a careless kind of arrogance.

"Thank you." Chen Xiao carefully folded the napkin and placed it in his inner jacket pocket.

Tony watched that whole sequence, and his expression shifted slightly, though he quickly returned to his usual flippant manner.

"You actually kept it."

"You're right." Chen Xiao looked up and smiled. "When I'm old, this thing really will be worth a lot."

His tone was sincere. So sincere that Tony suddenly did not know what to say.

A brief silence followed.

"Well then," Chen Xiao raised his glass and made a distant toast toward Tony. "To you, Mr. Stark. No matter what, children will be grateful for those twenty million you donated."

He tipped back his head and drained the cola disguised as champagne in a single gulp.

Then he turned and left.

No unnecessary words, no looking back, no threats like, "I'll make you remember me."

He was like a glass of water poured into the ocean—arriving without a sound, leaving without a sound.

Tony stood where he was, watching the Asian youth in the tailcoat pass through the crowd and disappear at the other end of the banquet hall.

"Happy," Tony suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

"Look into that guy."

Happy froze for a moment. "Didn't you say he wasn't worth looking into?"

Tony raised his whiskey and took another drink, his gaze fixed on the direction where Chen Xiao had vanished.

"I changed my mind."