Lin Xiao stood before the mirror, struggling to brace himself mentally.
He had hidden that black, silky, lace-trimmed thing under his pillow all night, leaving several creases in it. He reached out and smoothed it back and forth several times, but the wrinkles refused to flatten, making his heart ache.
"Doupao."
"Ding-here."
"You said this item has to touch my skin to work, right? Will people think I'm a pervert if I wear this outside?"
Lin Xiao took a deep breath, stretched the opening as wide as he could, and forced his left hand inside. To his surprise, it slid all the way up.
The stretchy black stocking completely encased his left upper arm, from his elbow to his deltoid, with the lace trim resting right where his arm met his shoulder. The silk gleamed faintly under the light, fitting perfectly.
He repeatedly bent and straightened his arm to check his range of motion and test the stocking's elasticity, then turned to look at himself in the mirror.
Morning sunlight slanted through a gap in the curtains and fell across the side of his face, slicing through the shadows like a scalpel. His brow, nose, and jaw were cleanly defined, and his skin combined Eastern delicacy with Western sculpted features, making him look even more striking.
Lin Xiao tilted his head slightly to catch a different angle of light. Watching the mirror, he slowly curled his lips upward.
"Doupao."
"Ding-"
"Did I get even more handsome?"
Ding-charisma updated. Current charisma: 18. Charisma +1. Buff source: [Black Widow's Armband] equipped.
"Hahahaha!" Lin Xiao laughed with abandon, turning in place to admire how the "armband" looked under different lighting. "Just what you'd expect from something belonging to Black Widow. The sheen, the texture, the stretch-it's got everything."
Leaning closer to the mirror, he spotted a tiny red mark embroidered inside the lace. It was not a brand label, but a hand-stitched, simplified spider that also looked like a variation of a Slavic letter.
"What's this? A trademark?"
He gave it no further thought. His mind was filled with nothing but his charisma of 18. Seventeen points had already been incredibly effective. Wouldn't eighteen have talent scouts stopping him and strangers sneaking photos? The more he thought about it, the happier he became.
Lin Xiao dug the only gray jacket that could pass for formalwear out of his wardrobe. Even though it was the largest size, it still strained around him. He straightened the collar before the mirror, deliberately adjusting the stocking on his left arm so half a centimeter of lace peeked out of his sleeve.
"Perfect."
Putting on his sunglasses, Lin Xiao pushed the door open and walked out.
Stark Industries' weapons research and development division occupied an entire glass building in Midtown Manhattan, roughly sixty meters tall.
Lin Xiao tilted his head back to take in the whole building and whistled. "Now that's impressive."
He headed toward the revolving door. The two burly security guards in suits were obviously military veterans. Spotting his towering, sky-obscuring figure from a distance, they instinctively reached for the guns at their waists.
Once Lin Xiao approached, both withdrew their hands. His appearance was extremely deceptive: sharp brows, bright eyes, fine skin, and a gentle smile. He looked nothing like someone coming to cause trouble.
"Hello. Do you have an appointment?" The guard on the left unconsciously adopted a more polite tone.
"Yes. I'm the perimeter security assigned by S.H.I.E.L.D." Lin Xiao removed his sunglasses and nodded.
The two guards exchanged a glance, sharing the same thought: Was S.H.I.E.L.D. recruiting top male models to keep up appearances now?
The banquet hall was on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. As Lin Xiao stepped out of the elevator, Coulson stood at the end of the corridor, checking the guest list on a tablet. His fitted dark gray suit and neatly arranged tie were standard veteran-agent attire.
But thirty seconds before Lin Xiao stepped out of the elevator, Coulson's tablet had displayed a different screen-the encrypted call log for Director Nick Fury, with the call having ended just moments earlier. One final text message remained on the screen. It was from Fury and contained only one sentence:
"Let that 'human husky' of yours roam around inside. I want to see what he does in a china shop."
After reading the message, Coulson frowned for a full five seconds. Of course he understood Fury's meaning. Lin Xiao was an enormous variable. Over the past few days of observation, none of his labels had matched his actual behavior. Fury wanted to see his most genuine reactions in the least controllable environment. A banquet hall packed with distinguished guests, military representatives from seventeen countries, more than thirty media outlets, alcohol, camera flashes, Tony Stark-this testing ground could reveal a person's true colors better than any laboratory.
Coulson put away the tablet and drew a deep breath. It was not that he had no reservations, but orders were orders. Twenty years as an agent had taught him one thing: Fury could be unreasonable, but his judgment was almost never wrong. If the director wanted a test, then a test it would be.
Coulson slowly raised his head and saw Lin Xiao emerge from the elevator. His expression froze for a full three seconds.
His gaze swept from the tight jacket to the sneakers, traveled down his arm, and finally settled on the strip of black lace peeking out of his sleeve.
"Lin Xiao." Coulson's tone was level, with something held back beneath it.
"Boss!" Lin Xiao strode over with an oblivious grin.
"Where's your formalwear?"
"What formalwear?"
"I told you this was an important assignment! The Stark weapons exhibition. Military representatives from seventeen countries and over thirty media outlets are attending. Formal attire is required. Didn't I give you the new recruit handbook? You should know this." Coulson's mouth twitched slightly.
"My custom suit isn't finished yet. My build's unusual, so I can't buy off the rack, and there's a long waiting list for tailoring." Lin Xiao scratched his head, looking sincere.
Coulson stared at him for five seconds. With twenty years of experience as an agent, he could tell at once that this was a hastily invented lie. Yet the man's eyes were so open and honest that he did not look remotely like he was lying.
For a moment, Coulson wanted to send him straight back to guard the front entrance. Sneakers with a jacket, and some unidentified black fabric showing on his arm-at the door, people would at most mistake him for a fitness trainer Stark had hired. But Fury's order stood across his thoughts: "Roam around inside." Fine. Since this was a test, they would follow the test's specifications.
Coulson put his gentle smile back on, though this time it carried something Lin Xiao could not read-the particular expression an agent wore when conveying a superior's probe: polite, restrained, and faintly apologetic.
"Lin Xiao, the plan has changed. You don't need to guard the entrance."
"Really?"
"Yes. You'll work inside the banquet hall."
"What do I have to do inside?"
"No work. Just stand there and keep smiling." Coulson patted his shoulder, paused, then added, "By the way-what's that on your arm?"
Lin Xiao glanced down at the lace peeking from his left sleeve and answered without batting an eye. "A fashion accessory. Really popular in South Korea."
Coulson's mouth twitched, but he quickly reined it in. Stepping half a pace aside, he gestured with one hand. "Please, go in."
The banquet hall's doors were three-meter-tall carved oak, with the Stark logo engraved on their gold-plated handles. Lin Xiao pushed them open and entered a hall already buzzing with voices.
A giant projection screen hung above the stage, looping a demonstration of a new missile: a silvery-white warhead traced an arc and precisely destroyed a moving tank, the explosion blazing across the screen with tremendous impact. More than a hundred people stood below, with military personnel from various countries, reporters, and defense company representatives each occupying their own section. The tables were covered with exquisite pastries and champagne.
Tony Stark stood onstage holding a microphone, wearing his signature brown-tinted sunglasses, a fitted navy suit, and a red rose boutonniere. His flamboyant, expensive air seemed bred into his bones.
"Many people say peace is priceless, and I completely agree. That's precisely why we need cutting-edge weapons to protect it. Stark Industries equipment will always be your most reliable choice."
He pressed the remote, and the screen switched to neat rows of missiles, each bearing a dazzlingly bright Stark Industries logo.
"The Jericho Missile has a range of one hundred and fifty kilometers, with a guidance error of less than one meter. The Freedom Smart Bomb carries next-generation thermal tracking, precisely locking onto an enemy command vehicle among a thousand targets. Ladies and gentlemen, these aren't weapons. They're guarantees of peace, and the author is in the United States."
Applause erupted below the stage. American generals led the cheers, reporters' flashes fired nonstop, and every lens pointed at Tony in all his glory.
Tony spread his arms and basked in everyone's attention. This was the moment he enjoyed most.
Just then, the banquet hall doors opened. The heavy sound drew the front-row reporters' heads around, and their eyes immediately became fixed on the entrance.
A "mountain of a man" stood in the doorway. At two meters ten, he had to duck to enter. His gray jacket stretched tightly over a smooth inverted triangle of muscle, not bulky, its contours just right. His face combined soft Eastern skin with sculpted Western bone structure, sharp brows, a straight nose, and a clean jawline. His left sleeve gaped slightly, the visible strip of lace especially conspicuous at such a formal occasion.
A female reporter holding champagne saw him and jerked her hand, spilling wine all over her white blouse without even noticing. Her cheeks instantly flushed scarlet.
Tony stopped speaking, his brown eyes behind his sunglasses fixed on the newcomer. He distinctly caught two things: every camera swung around, and Pepper Potts, holding a folder beside him, quietly turned to look as well.
Pepper stole a look for two seconds. Meeting Tony's gaze, she immediately looked away and pretended to organize her papers, but Tony had caught her red-handed.
Lin Xiao walked into the hall. Coulson had only told him to smile by the wall, without specifying a spot. He scanned the room and found no vacant place to stand, so he simply leaned against a corner, let his hands hang at his sides, and put on a lazy smile.
Sunlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows fell across the side of his face, casting varying shadows along his jaw and brow. Backlit, he looked like a Renaissance sculpture, his muscles possessing the texture of the statue of David.
Flashes fired one after another. No longer aimed at Tony onstage, they all focused on Lin Xiao in the corner the next second.
Lin Xiao secretly called for Doupao, keeping his smile in place while inwardly ecstatic. They're all taking pictures of me. This feels incredible!
"Ding-rapid increase in host vanity detected. Restraint recommended to avoid-"
"Shut up. Don't interrupt me enjoying the atmosphere."
Tony kept switching the microphone between his hands, his speech forced to a halt. Half the female reporters below the stage had turned and gathered toward the corner; those remaining were only held back by their camera angles.
He gave a light cough, forcibly trying to regain his rhythm. "The Jericho Missile's guidance system uses the latest-"
No one was listening. Every camera, large and small, was pointed at Lin Xiao.
The reporter who had spilled her champagne stood up outright and walked toward Lin Xiao with what remained of her wine, prompting four or five beautiful women to surge over too. Among them were two female military officers and a female model from who knew where.
"Sir, are you Stark's spokesperson?"
"Would you mind sharing your workout routine?"
"Are you East Asian? Japanese or Korean?"
Lin Xiao frowned. "I'm from Dragon Country, not a Korean punk or a Jap."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know. Um, could we take a photo together? Just one!"
Maintaining a faint smile, Lin Xiao slowly adjusted his stance, slipped his left hand into his pocket, and nodded. A crowd of beautiful women promptly gathered around him.
Standing onstage, Tony watched helplessly as his product launch turned into someone else's fan meet. His face darkened bit by bit, veins bulged on the hand gripping the microphone, and the look beneath his sunglasses almost congealed into murderous intent.
"Interesting," Tony murmured, a wicked smile curling his lips.
Everyone's attention was on Lin Xiao. No one noticed Tony's signature expression-the omen Pepper privately called "someone's in trouble." He smiled like that every time he had something nasty in mind.
Tony cleared his throat and raised the microphone, his tone casual, as though some minor matter had just occurred to him. "By the way, everyone, next week I'll personally travel to Afghanistan to demonstrate our new equipment to the troops stationed there. To show Stark's respect for our partners-" He removed his sunglasses and pointed across the room at Lin Xiao in the corner. "I invite this S.H.I.E.L.D. representative to accompany me. Sir, may I have your name?"
Everyone first turned back toward Tony, then looked in unison at Lin Xiao.
Lin Xiao's smile froze for an instant, and he inwardly growled at Doupao. He's deliberately taking me to Afghanistan? To get back at me for stealing his spotlight!
"Ding-the host's assessment is essentially correct."
Coulson only told me to stand here and smile. Who knew this would happen!
"Ding-that instruction was issued by Coulson, not the system. Furthermore, the host's posing just now went beyond simply smiling."
Before Lin Xiao could argue with the system, Tony spoke again. "Then it's settled. S.H.I.E.L.D. will arrange the itinerary. After all, Stark Industries has always valued its partners." He put his sunglasses back on, his smile deepening.
Pepper covered her face by the side door. She knew Tony all too well. This had nothing to do with valuing partnerships-he was simply jealous. Even she had taken a couple of extra looks at that big guy. Tony's possessiveness never respected the occasion. On his home turf, everyone's attention belonged to him alone.
The mingling session began. Lin Xiao finally squeezed out of the reporters' encirclement and stood by the wall holding a glass of champagne, his feelings mixed. On one hand, he worried about real guns and live ammunition on the Afghan battlefield. On the other, he savored the pleasure of being surrounded by women. For now, the thrill outweighed his anxiety.
Meanwhile, at the far end of a corridor he could not see, Coulson was quietly reporting over an encrypted channel through his earpiece.
"Phase one of the interior test is complete. Responses include disregarding the dress code, choosing his own position, attracting extensive media attention without instructions, and-" Coulson paused, a trace of helplessness entering his voice. "-successfully angering Tony Stark, who singled him out to accompany him to Afghanistan. I can already imagine this kid coming to me to 'air his grievances' shortly."
The other end of the channel went silent for two seconds.
Then Nick Fury's voice came through, level, though Coulson detected the faintest hint of amusement. "Singled out by Stark himself? Even more entertaining than I expected. Make the arrangements for the Afghanistan assignment."
Coulson switched off his earpiece and looked through the corridor's glass wall at Lin Xiao, who stood in the banquet hall holding champagne with a blissful expression. He could not help murmuring to himself.
"Director, are you satisfied with these test results?"
From the other end of the corridor came the steady sound of high heels striking marble, evenly paced, every step precise.
Lin Xiao looked up. A red-haired woman was slowly approaching from the end of the corridor.
She wore a black, figure-hugging business skirt suit that reached her knees. Slender high heels accentuated her upright figure, and red curls rested on her shoulders. Her features were exquisite enough for a magazine cover, but her gray-green eyes were bone-chillingly cold. Her steps were elegant and unhurried.
Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace agent, codename Black Widow, was in charge of directing indoor security.
Lin Xiao recognized her. The films had left a strong impression before his transmigration, though he had been too busy looking at the actress's face back then to remember much of the plot. He instinctively tugged down his suit sleeve over his left arm, but Natasha still noticed the little movement.
Within three-tenths of a second, she had fully taken in that strip of black stocking: the sheer fabric, the lace trim, and the distinctive hand-embroidered red spider. She had stitched it herself with specially made thread. There were only two, and one had inexplicably disappeared a few days earlier.
So here it was.
On the arm of this unfamiliar, two-meter-ten brute, with a strip of lace deliberately exposed, as though he were flaunting a trophy.
Natasha narrowed her eyes, looking at the hulking man before her as her lips curved. Someone S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned? I haven't seen him before. Must be new. I should go find Coulson and see who he is.