Hawkeye slapped five thousand dollars onto the table.
"From the agency," Hawkeye said expressionlessly. "Thanks for your hard work on this mission. The business with that woman won't appear in any official report."
Lin Xiao opened his mouth to say something, but Hawkeye left without looking back.
The door closed behind Lin Xiao.
Lin Xiao looked down at the stack of money in his hand, his smile fading a little. A commotion rose from downstairs. Several black SUVs were parked outside the hotel, and a group of people in suits were loading equipment into them. Ella, tied to a chair, was hauled into one of the vehicles by two people. Her blond hair was a bird's nest, and a towel still gagged her mouth, but her eyes remained fixed on Lin Xiao's window.
How to describe that look-it was probably a three-in-one combination of "I'll remember you," "Just you wait," and "What the fuck kind of monster is this?"
Lin Xiao waved at her.
The corner of Ella's mouth twitched. The car door closed, and the convoy drove off.
When Tony Stark learned about it, he was standing at Bagram Base's firing range, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching military personnel test the Jericho Missile's performance data. An assistant hurried over and whispered a few words in his ear.
Tony's expression changed. Somewhat confused, he asked, "Who handled it?"
His subordinate lowered his head. "Someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. The big guy you specifically asked to bring along, Lin Xiao."
Tony said nothing. He turned to look at the smoking wreckage of a target in the distance and remained silent for a good while.
"Where is he?"
"At the hotel. He said he was counting money."
The corner of Tony's mouth twitched wildly.
"Got it."
He continued watching the missile tests as though nothing had happened. Only his fingers tightened a little around his glass.
You could call Tony arrogant, flashy, and a smart-ass, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Lin Xiao had headed off a disaster for him. If Lin Xiao hadn't seen through that flight attendant, what would have happened next-someone gaining leverage over him, leaked intelligence, even his entire Afghanistan trip being riddled with infiltrators-he understood better than anyone.
But for Tony Stark, "thank you" was one of the hardest fucking things to say in English.
He could take on a roomful of opponents at a congressional hearing, speak effortlessly to a thousand people at a press conference, and announce "I am Iron Man" before the global media. But walking up to someone and earnestly saying, "I was wrong. Thank you"-he probably couldn't get it out no matter how he tried.
He needed time. He needed to figure out what to say. He needed to find a way that wouldn't make him feel awkward.
Lin Xiao, meanwhile, was completely unaware of this. He was lying in bed, counting the five thousand dollars Hawkeye had given him again in the sunlight streaming through the window.
Fifty bills. All hundreds. Brand-new, without so much as a crease, smelling of ink.
Lin Xiao stacked the money neatly beside his pillow, then rested his hands behind his head, crossed his legs, and fell silent as he stared at the chandelier on the ceiling.
He shifted his gaze from the chandelier to the window. The hotel had a good location, facing an open area inside the base. Tony Stark had just returned from the firing range, surrounded by military representatives, engineers, bodyguards in black, and two assistants carrying folders. Tony walked in the middle, sunglasses covering half his face, gesturing about something while the people beside him nodded repeatedly.
Behind them, lounge chairs and parasols had already been set up beside the hotel pool. Several scantily clad blond beauties were chatting and laughing over glasses of champagne; who knew who had invited them. Tony certainly knew how to enjoy himself, and he had so many people keeping him company.
As Lin Xiao watched, his expression slowly faded, and an indescribable loneliness welled up inside him.
He had done so much just to fit into this world. All he wanted was a peaceful little life.
And the result? It seemed he was nothing more than a useful tool. Others used him, wiped him clean, and put him back in the toolbox.
Ding-Host. The host's current emotional state does not match his usual behavioral pattern. This system recommends-
"Recommends what?" Lin Xiao's voice suddenly became calm, so calm that even he was a little surprised. "That I stop overthinking? That I keep being a big dumb lug, happily doing missions and grinding stats every day?"
The system didn't answer immediately.
Lin Xiao sat up against the headboard, picked up the stack of bills beside his pillow, and turned it over and over in his hands.
"Doupao, tell me. What has everything I've done since coming to this world been for?"
Doupao didn't answer, only listened quietly.
"On the day of the press conference, I just stood there. I didn't do anything. Tony Stark didn't like the look of me, and one word from him got me sent to Afghanistan. Coulson is my boss, but every word he says is a probe. Even taking me out for a meal was an assignment from the director. That flight attendant wasn't even after me. She approached me because I was with S.H.I.E.L.D. If I wasn't, she wouldn't have given me a second glance."
He tossed the bills onto his pillow.
"Today I did something worthwhile, and they gave me five thousand bucks. As though that's what everything I've done is worth."
From his very first day after transmigrating into this world, he had been pushed along. The system pushed him to do missions, and his circumstances pushed him to grow stronger. All he wanted was to slack off and fit into this world, so why was it so hard?
"I don't want to use my brain," Lin Xiao said dully. "I just want to be a clerk. Sit in an office, drink tea, read the paper, and collect my salary at the end of the month. Go over to May's for a free meal now and then and listen to Peter talk about school. I don't want to scheme or put on an act. I don't want to match wits with female spies. I don't want to punch through a wall and have people look at me like I'm a monster."
He paused.
"But I don't have a choice."
Laughter drifted in from outside. Someone over by Tony had told a joke, and everyone was laughing. The sound floated through the window into Lin Xiao's ears. With a soft sigh, he closed the window.
Closing his eyes, he remembered his previous life. His days had been ordinary, but full and satisfying.
Then he had transmigrated.
He had come to this world, gained a system and superpowers, and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. He had thought that as long as he was strong enough, useful enough, and cooperative enough, he could find a new place for himself in this world. But he had forgotten something.
Deep down, he was still someone from Dragon Country, different from them.
What was in his bones could never be forgotten in a lifetime! When he drank with Coulson, he instinctively held his glass down and waited for the other man to pour first. When he saw Tony showing off at the press conference, the saying "the bird that sticks its head out gets shot" automatically sprang to mind. Every time he completed a mission, his first reaction wasn't to celebrate but to tally the accounts. None of that could change, even with a different body and a different world.
Someone from Dragon Country, surrounded by Americans, hoping they would understand him and become his friends?
It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't his. They simply weren't on the same wavelength.
It wasn't that they didn't want to understand him. They just lacked the cultural background to understand how someone from Dragon Country thought.
And what about him? He had been making a mistake too-thinking that if he did well enough, was useful enough, and cooperated enough, he would be "accepted." But "acceptance" required one side to be willing to change. He didn't want to change, and neither would they, so there was no point forcing it.
Lin Xiao opened his eyes.
The chandelier on the ceiling was still on, its light soft. The laughter outside continued, but it no longer sounded quite so grating.
Suddenly, he found it very funny.
He laughed for who knew how long before slowly stopping. Reaching for the bills on his pillow, he counted them again, his movements unhurried. Then he lit a fire and burned those five thousand dollars.
His eyes went from confused to clear, from conflicted to relieved.
That's right, he thought. I'm from Dragon Country. Why am I looking for a connection with a bunch of fictional comic-book characters?
Their failure to understand me isn't my problem. Their world runs by different rules from the ones I grew up with. It's not my fault I can't fit in.
I'm here to survive. To grow stronger. So that one day, I can sit peacefully in an office drinking tea and reading the paper, without having to worry about anyone's displeasure. Not to win their approval, but to live as myself.
Since I'm from Dragon Country, I'll live the Dragon Country way.
Lin Xiao leaned against the headboard, gazing at the chandelier as the corners of his mouth curved upward. Being myself is pretty good. Repay kindness and settle grudges, eat, drink, have fun, and live freely. They're them, and I'm me! There's absolutely no need to cater to anyone else's ideas. Living free and happy is the way to go!
Another burst of laughter came from outside. Tony's party was still going, and the music had changed again, from languid jazz to a pop song with a stronger beat.
Just then, someone knocked.
Three knocks. Not fast, but clear. Whoever was knocking clearly wasn't accustomed to knocking on other people's doors.
Lin Xiao looked at the door, then at the ceiling, and sighed. He climbed out of bed and went to open it.
The moment the door opened, Lin Xiao froze briefly.
Tony Stark stood in the doorway. He had taken off his jacket and wore only a light blue shirt, its sleeves casually rolled to his elbows. His sunglasses were off, and his caramel-colored eyes were looking at Lin Xiao. His expression was different from usual-no trademark flashy grin, no calculation, no condescension.
"Mr. Stark?" Lin Xiao's voice carried just the right amount of surprise.
Tony cleared his throat.
"Can I come in?"
Lin Xiao stepped back and gestured for him to enter.
Tony walked in and glanced around the room. His gaze passed over the crude folding table, the chair, and the battered canvas bag bulging on the bed. Lin Xiao noticed a flicker in his expression, as though he had seen something that made him uncomfortable.
"This room you're staying in," Tony began, his voice a little lower than usual, "is too small. I'll have my assistant get you another one."
"No need. It's fine." Lin Xiao waved a hand.
"I'm not just being polite." Tony turned to face him. "You took care of a major problem for me. This is my way of returning the favor." He paused, seemingly weighing his words. "Lin Xiao, about the press conference-"
"The press conference was nothing," Lin Xiao said with a smile, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "I just stood there and smiled, and stole your thunder. It's perfectly normal that you didn't like me."
Tony froze for a moment, then let out a short laugh.
It wasn't his standard onstage laugh, but the awkward laugh of someone whose thoughts had been exposed in a single sentence and who didn't know what to say.
"You really are..." Tony pointed at Lin Xiao. "Pretty direct."
"We Dragon Country people value honesty," Lin Xiao said, looking utterly sincere.
Tony fell silent for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and dropped all his airs, all his posturing, all his habitual defenses.
"I'm sorry."
It was probably the hardest sentence Tony Stark had ever said in English.
"I was wrong at the press conference. Getting you sent to Afghanistan was petty of me too. I only learned today what you did-the flight attendant, those people, and how you dealt with all of them alone." He paused. "I haven't known how to thank you."
He looked into Lin Xiao's eyes, this time without evasion or stubborn pride, without hiding behind jokes.
"So I'm here to make up for it now. An overdue apology."
Lin Xiao looked at Tony. The most narcissistic man in the world was standing before him, looking so earnest that he hardly seemed like himself.
Then Lin Xiao smiled.
"Mr. Stark-"
"Call me Tony."
Lin Xiao blinked.
"Tony," he said, then scratched his head. "You really don't have to make such a big deal of it. I just did what I was supposed to."
Tony patted Lin Xiao's shoulder, his expression earnest.
"I'd like to formally invite you to tomorrow's exhibition. New weapons. Not as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but as my friend."
His tone was just a little unnatural when he said "friend," but he said it anyway.
Lin Xiao looked into Tony's eyes as though confirming something. Then he nodded, a flattered smile appearing on his face.
"All right. I'll go."
Whether Lin Xiao's smile at that moment meant he was "moved" or "something else," probably only he knew.
"Three tomorrow afternoon, at the weapons display area on the east side of the base. Military representatives from over twenty countries will be there, along with a few media outlets. Don't be nervous. Just stand beside me. Now that that's all said, let's go, brother. The girls are waiting for us to party."
Tony came over and patted Lin Xiao's shoulder. But where he couldn't see, the corners of Lin Xiao's mouth lifted into a curve.