At eight o'clock in the morning, Lin Xiao descended the mountain.
As I walked to the designated spot at the foot of the mountain to the crooked tree, I could see a woman standing under the tree in the distance.
She leaned against the tree, her red bodysuit gleaming like a burning fire in the morning light. Her long, straight black hair reached her waist, and her skin was almost translucent white. Her hands were in the side pockets of her bodysuit, and she turned her head when she heard footsteps. Her eyes were unusually cold.
"You're pretty punctual."
Lin Xiao's lips curled up, and he was about to say, "That's right, I'm a man of my word, you don't know...", but before he could finish speaking, Shan Shuo interrupted him.
Where do you want to go?
Lin Xiao choked for a moment, coughed twice, and then continued, " New York, Stark Industries, top-floor office."
Blink frowned, as if pinpointing a coordinate in her mind, and nodded. She raised her right hand, her index and middle fingers together, and drew a circle in the air. A purple light flicked from her fingertips, first as a thin line, then as if stretched by something, instantly growing into an oval halo taller than a person. Inside the halo was a deep purple void, with tiny golden sparks dancing at the edges.
Lin Xiao whistled. "This thing is much more practical than the portal opened by the Sling Ring."
Shan Shan ignored him and stepped inside. Lin Xiao shrugged and followed.
As soon as he entered the purple portal, Lin Xiao felt like a grain of sand being sucked into a vortex. He was enveloped in purple light, his bones were buzzing, and his mind was blank. When he opened his eyes again, he was on a soft wool carpet.
Stark Industries, top-floor office.
It took Tony two days to barely accept that magic existed in this world. Right now, he's curled up on the sofa, coffee in one hand and remote control in the other, watching the movie " Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone " with great interest, trying to learn more about magic.
A beam of purple light exploded from directly in front of the sofa, forming a purple vortex more than two meters high.
Tony was startled by the sudden change. Just as he was about to call JARVIS, a large hand suddenly reached out, and then Lin Xiao's massive body appeared in front of him.
Tony nearly dropped his coffee cup. He stared at Lin Xiao for two seconds, then leaned back on the sofa and fell onto the wool carpet, pounding the floor with one hand, laughing so hard it was practically bursting out of his throat, rolling and crawling uncontrollably.
" Lin Xiao, are you really going to become a monk? You didn't shave your head and went to wear monk's robes? Did Ancient One accept you as a disciple? Are you going to be chanting scriptures from now on?"
Lin Xiao's lips twitched. He looked down at the gray-white monk's robe he was wearing. He had been so busy looking for Flash that morning that he had forgotten to change. But explaining that he "forgot to change" at this critical moment would only make Tony laugh even harder. He didn't say anything, walked to Tony's desk, picked up the newly opened bottle of red wine, unscrewed the cork, and tilted his head back to drink half of it.
Tony's laughter abruptly stopped. He pointed at Lin Xiao, his voice distorted. "Damn it, you come back and ruin my wine, you sour radish bitch! Don't drink it all, leave me a sip, it's freshly opened, you bastard..."
Before she could finish speaking, another person emerged from the purple light. It was another stunningly beautiful Eastern woman, with a first-rate appearance and a figure that presented a perfect S-shape in her red bodysuit.
She stood beside the sofa, arms crossed, and glanced expressionlessly at Tony, then at the wool carpet on the floor, before finally looking at Lin Xiao.
Tony's mouth hung open, his words cut short. His eyes darted from the shimmering face down to the curves of the bodysuit, then back to the face. He pulled his sunglasses down a bit, squinted for a couple of seconds, then turned to look at Lin Xiao, his expression incredibly interesting.
" Lin Xiao, you haven't been gone for three days, have you?" He pushed his sunglasses back up, his tone full of "I'm impressed, bro," "You've found yourself another stunning beauty, and a top-tier one at that. I'm impressed. I might as well just give you the title of New York Casanova."
Lin Xiao rushed over and covered Tony's mouth. Tony struggled and swatted at his hand, the two of them twisting and turning like children. Flash stood still the whole time, arms crossed, watching without any expression on his face, his light gray eyes looking at two immature children.
When Lin Xiao released his grip, Tony's face turned bright red. He gasped for breath and pointed at Lin Xiao's nose. "Fuck, were you trying to strangle me?"
"It's a misunderstanding." Lin Xiao straightened the collar of his monk's robe, his expression extremely serious. "She's a friend; she came back with me to take care of some business."
Tony nodded, a "I'd be a fool to believe you" look on his face. "Friends. Yes, yes, friends. Your friends, Lin Xiao, are all at this level, I know."
Flash frowned slightly and spoke, her voice neither loud nor soft. "I still have to report for duty. If you hear from the doctor in a few days, come find me at the embassy." After she finished speaking, she made a gesture in the air with her right hand, opening another purple door. Before stepping inside, she turned her head and glanced at Lin Xiao. That glance was so quick that Lin Xiao didn't even have time to interpret it.
The door closed, and the purple light dissipated. The office returned to silence, with only Dumbledore still speaking on the television.
Tony turned his gaze from where the light had disappeared to Lin Xiao, the teasing smile still lingering on his lips, "A top-tier beauty like that is rare? Like her? Go for it! Staring blankly isn't like you, Lin Xiao."
Lin Xiao blushed and sat down on the sofa, kicking off his slippers and putting his feet up on the coffee table. "None of your business." He poured the last bit of wine from the bottle into his glass, took a sip, and then changed the subject, "What's going on in New York while I was gone?"
Tony thought for a moment, then his expression turned strange. He pressed the remote to turn off the TV, sat up straight on the sofa, and tapped his fingers twice on his knees.
" JARVIS told me that your S.H.I.E.L.D.. secretly brought someone back from out of town early yesterday morning and settled him in a new outpost on the outskirts of the city. The place was built overnight, the exterior painted in a 1940s style, and all the furniture inside is antique—the gramophone, newspapers, radio—all replicas. You tell me," Tony tilted his head, "Is S.H.I.E.L.D.. making a movie, or building a retro-themed hotel?"
Lin Xiao's eyes lit up.
"Filming my ass. I told you, the Old Popsicle was coming, and it seems he really is here."
Tony's fingers stopped.
"Is it really him?" His voice was half an octave lower than before.
Lin Xiao nodded.
Tony leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tapping slowly on the armrest. He stared at the empty wine bottle Lin Xiao had drunk from on the coffee table, his gaze lingering there, but his pupils weren't focused on the bottle. After several seconds, he finally spoke, his tone much more subdued than usual, as if something had temporarily suppressed his usual playful demeanor.
"If my dad were alive," he said slowly, "I'd probably run to see him."
Lin Xiao didn't reply. He put down the bottle, poured Tony a glass of water, and pushed it towards him. Tony took it but didn't drink it; he just held it, his eyes fixed on the swirling water in the glass.
Where is that outpost?
"Are you going to go take a look?"
"I haven't decided yet." Tony put down his cup. "Let me digest this a bit."
Lin Xiao took a deep breath, walked over, and patted Tony on the shoulder. The two of them stared at the TV, but their minds were on that person.
In the newly built outpost on the outskirts of the city, Steve Rogers leaned against his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.
He looked at the newspaper on the windowsill three times, the date being November 1945. The jazz music on the gramophone changed one song after another. The nurse came in twice to change his dressing, and the doctor came once, asked a few questions about how he was feeling, and then left. The black man, who called himself Fury, hadn't appeared since he left last night.
Steve didn't ask many questions. He lay there quietly, as if asleep.
Until the nurse came in again to change his IV drip.
She walked to the bedside, skillfully unpacked the new bottle, and connected the tube. Steve turned his head to look at her, his gaze moving from her face to her wrist, and then stopping. On her wrist was a narrow ring, made of a material that didn't look like metal, a silver-gray color he had never seen before, with a tiny blue indicator light embedded in its surface, flashing intermittently.
Steve narrowed his eyes slightly, but he didn't react.
"What's the date today?" he asked, his voice sounding no different than usual.
The nurse paused for a moment, then glanced down at the mark on her wrist. "November 17th, Captain."
Steve smiled. "Thanks. I'm a little tired and want to sleep a little longer."
"Okay, ring the bell if needed."
The nurse left. The door closed softly.
The smile on Steve's face gradually faded. He sat up, reached out and gently pulled the IV needle from the back of his hand. A tiny drop of blood came out with the needle, which he rubbed off on the sheet. He rolled out of bed, stood barefoot on the floor, walked to the window, and peered out from behind the curtains.
Outside the window was a quiet suburban street scene, the streetlights were on, and there were no cars on the road, but behind the second-floor window of the building across the street, the gap in the curtains was narrower than before. Steve stared at that gap for three seconds, then stepped back, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled the sheet back over himself.
He fluffed up the pillow, lay back down, and closed his eyes. His breathing was even, and his face was calm. But he knew the nurse was lying.
The November newspaper did indeed have the November date printed on it, but the blue indicator light wasn't from 1945. The way the black man spoke didn't seem like that of a soldier. How could a black man have such power when he was being dealt with by a person? This whole thing was strange, and the eyes in the building outside the window hadn't looked away since the moment he was carried in.
He didn't know where he was. But this place was definitely not his 1945.