Lin Xiao sat on the sofa, hung the Unyielding Heart around his neck, and was checking it in the mirror when his phone suddenly rang.
"Mr. Lin!" Happy's voice came through the phone, full of energy. "Mr. Stark sent me to pick you up! I'm already on my way! I'll be downstairs in about ten minutes!"
Lin Xiao glanced at his phone and was about to offer a few polite words when Happy added, "Mr. Stark said you don't need to prepare anything! He's arranged it all! There's a suit waiting for you in the car, custom-made!"
"...All right." Lin Xiao hung up, stood in front of the mirror to rake his hair into place, and went out.
The familiar black stretch Lincoln was parked downstairs. Happy stood ramrod straight beside the door. When he saw Lin Xiao emerge from the building, the broad smile on his face held nothing but respect.
Back in Afghanistan, he had personally seen this big man, whom Tony had seated in the back row beside the restroom, look like a god of slaughter in the camp. Only later had he learned that the man had spent three whole months searching Afghanistan for Mr. Stark alone, then single-handedly charged deep into Ten Rings territory, fighting his way in and out seven times to rescue Tony. So when Tony said, "Happy, go pick up Lin Xiao," Happy had already upgraded Lin Xiao in his mind from "the boss's strange new friend" to "a big shot who saved his life."
"Good evening, Mr. Lin!" Happy opened the rear door with a movement polished enough for an etiquette textbook.
Lin Xiao nodded and climbed into the car. Sure enough, an elegant black suit bag lay on the back seat, with a pair of leather shoes and a small tie box beside it.
"Mr. Stark said you might not have formalwear for this sort of banquet," Happy said, turning around from the driver's seat. "He had the tailor rush this one. Try it on and see if it fits."
Lin Xiao unzipped the suit bag. Inside was a dark gray three-piece suit, its fabric exquisite to the touch. He shook it out, his gaze falling on the label inside the cuff, and his eyes narrowed at a very subtle pace.
A line of small gold-stamped lettering read: Handmade, custom-tailored, pure worsted wool. Value: eighteen thousand US dollars.
Lin Xiao rubbed the label twice with his fingers. His face showed little, but the abacus in his head was already clattering away. Eighteen thousand for one suit. Thirty-six thousand for two. Tony had the tailor rush it, which meant this tailor took Tony's orders and made top-tier goods. Clothes like these weren't just something to wear in the wardrobe; they were social currency. Flash that label in front of those S.H.I.E.L.D. people someday, and he wouldn't have to say a word to raise his standing.
"Happy." Lin Xiao's voice was very calm.
"Yes, Mr. Lin!"
"This suit. Did Tony say it was mine to keep?"
"Of course! It was made especially for you. Naturally, it's yours!"
"Good." Lin Xiao nodded. "Then tell the tailor to make three more in the same size. Any colors are fine, as long as the fabric's the same."
Happy's smile froze for three-tenths of a second. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but finally just nodded. "Of course, Mr. Lin. I'll tell the tailor later."
Lin Xiao watched New York's night scenery streak past the window, tapping a jaunty rhythm on his knee. This was fantastic. Without spending a cent, he could add five handmade, custom-tailored suits worth eighteen thousand each to his wardrobe. Passing up a bargain like this would betray all those days he had spent eating instant noodles in a rented room.
In the private lounge on the top floor of Stark Tower, Tony Stark leaned against the doorframe with a glass of whiskey in hand. He wore a dark blue suit in the same style as Lin Xiao's. His bow tie was immaculate, his hair and stubble carefully groomed, and brown-tinted sunglasses perched on his nose, covering much of his face.
"Well, well." Tony lowered his sunglasses and looked over the lenses, sizing Lin Xiao up. "I knew it. If you'd dressed like this at the press conference, I might not have gotten mad at you. At least I wouldn't have shipped you off to Afghanistan."
"Then I'd still rather go to Afghanistan." Lin Xiao adjusted his tie. "Wearing this thing, I'm afraid to breathe too hard in case I pop a seam."
"I'll have another made if you do." Tony approached and handed Lin Xiao the other glass of whiskey he was holding. "Tonight isn't a formal board meeting, just a private gathering. Everyone coming is from our circle-partners, suppliers, a few military representatives, and a few people who want to suck up to me but haven't found a way in."
"Then why invite me?" Lin Xiao accepted the glass and took a sip.
"Because you're my brother." Tony didn't look at him as he said it. Instead, he looked down at his drink, his tone as casual as if he were discussing tonight's menu. "You spent three months searching Afghanistan and dragged me out of that cave. Tonight, I want you standing beside me."
Lin Xiao looked at him, silent for a moment.
Tony Stark always wrapped his true feelings in jokes and flashy swagger. He couldn't say something like "I owe you my life," but he could say, "Tonight, I want you standing beside me."
"All right." Lin Xiao raised his glass and clinked it against Tony's. "Then I'll be your bodyguard tonight."
"Bodyguard?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "You? In that outfit?"
"Then-your image consultant."
"Get lost."
They laughed together. The liquor swirled in their glasses, reflecting the glittering light of the crystal chandelier overhead.
Stark Tower's private banquet hall occupied the thirty-eighth floor, lined entirely with floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan's nightscape spread out like a painting of a sea of lights. Lin Xiao followed Tony inside, then settled into place with a glass of red wine, surveying the room.
He spotted Obadiah Stane, the chief culprit behind Tony's peril in the original story.
The burly bald man stood among a group of military representatives, beaming, a cigar between his fingers as he spoke at length. His hands waved as he talked, his body language expansive and confident, as though he were the room's true host.
Tony lingered at the entrance. Lin Xiao noticed his hand clench slightly, then relax. That trademark smile returned, and he strode into the crowd, greeting people, clinking glasses, and exchanging pleasantries, handling everyone with ease. Lin Xiao leaned against a pillar at the edge of the hall, his gaze never leaving Tony's direction.
Tony walked up to the microphone at the front of the banquet hall and tapped it.
"Everyone, thank you for coming tonight. I have a few things to say."
The chatter gradually faded. All eyes turned to Tony, including Obadiah's-he stood at the front of the crowd, wearing that kindly smile particular to an elder.
"Three months ago," Tony began, his voice steady and carrying his characteristic nonchalance, "I took a trip to Afghanistan. I was only supposed to demonstrate a few new weapons, but there was a little mishap on the way back."
A few quiet laughs came from the audience. Stark-style humor-calling three months of captivity "a little mishap."
"I spent an entire season in a cave," Tony continued, his smile fading a little. "I saw weapons I'd made in the hands of people I'd never imagined would use them. I saw innocent people lose their homes, even their lives, because of my inventions. And I saw an unarmed doctor cut a hole in my chest with a scalpel and missile parts to save my life."
The hall was so quiet that the air conditioning was audible.
"So today, standing here, I'm officially announcing something." Tony took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the startled, confused, uneasy faces. "Effective today, Stark Industries is permanently closing its weapons manufacturing division."
The silence exploded like a bomb. People leaned together and whispered; some sucked in a breath, others set down their glasses. Several military representatives in the front row immediately changed expression. Obadiah's smile froze, then was replaced with another expression at remarkable speed.
"Tony!" Obadiah strode forward, his booming voice drowning out every whisper. "My boy! You have no idea how worried I've been! You spent three months in that cave. You must have suffered terribly. Your mind hasn't recovered yet-"
He turned to the guests and spread his hands, his tone filled with anguish. "Everyone, Tony has just endured the darkest period of his life. He's suffered tremendous psychological trauma, which is why he's saying such muddled things. Stark Industries represents decades of our hard work. It's a pillar of the defense industry! Close the weapons division? That's a betrayal of the company and every one of its employees!"
"Mr. Stane."
A voice came from the edge of the hall. It wasn't loud, but every word was as clear as if spoken right beside their ears. Everyone turned.
Lin Xiao walked out at an unhurried pace, a wineglass between his fingers and a harmless smile on his face. It looked sincere, but anyone who knew him understood that the more sincere Lin Xiao's smile was, the less sincere what followed would be.
He walked into the center of the crowd and stopped before Obadiah. His height forced him to lower his head slightly to meet Obadiah's eyes. He looked less like someone about to argue and more like someone inspecting a product he wasn't entirely satisfied with.
"Did you just say Tony was shaken up and wasn't thinking clearly?" Lin Xiao's tone suggested he was confirming an insignificant detail.
Obadiah frowned at him. Of course he recognized the big man following Tony-he hadn't paid much attention before, assuming he was a newly hired bodyguard. Rather than answer, he snorted and turned to the others. "This is a friend of Tony's. I'm not sure why he's at an occasion like this. Perhaps Tony felt he needed someone who could throw a punch to bolster his presence."
A few nearby guests laughed awkwardly.
Lin Xiao didn't laugh. He tilted his head, his voice still as mild as if he were chatting with a neighbor. "Mr. Stane, I've been listening to you for a while, and there's one thing I can't figure out. You said you spent these three months worrying about Tony, praying every day for his safe return-so why didn't you come looking for him?"
Obadiah's smile stiffened for an instant.
"I'm the executive vice president of Stark Industries," he said, quickly regaining his composure, a hint of impatience in his voice. "I have a responsibility to keep the company running. My approach was to mobilize every resource at my disposal for the rescue, rather than run into the desert playing lone hero like certain people."
"Oh, mobilizing resources." Lin Xiao nodded, looking enlightened. "What resources did you mobilize? The military? Intelligence networks? Private security contractors? As far as I know, Stark Industries didn't send a single rescue team to Afghanistan during Tony's captivity. You, however, Mr. Stane, held four board meetings in those three months, and at every one, you proposed discussing 'the transition of management if Tony fails to return.' What a coincidence, huh?"
The room erupted.
Obadiah's expression finally changed. A fleeting trace of panic flashed in his eyes before anger replaced it. He was, after all, an old fox with decades of experience. He knew what it meant to be publicly exposed like this.
"Who the hell do you think you are!" Obadiah stepped forward, his finger nearly jabbing Lin Xiao's chest. His voice was extremely low, but every word carried barely contained fury. "What gives you the right to spout nonsense in front of me? You're just some thug Tony picked up, someone lucky enough to hitch a ride on Stark Industries' coattails. Do you really think you deserve to stand here and speak to me at an occasion like this? Do you know how much I've given this company? When I was fighting shoulder to shoulder with Tony's father, you were still suckling in some corner!"
The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Lin Xiao looked at the finger nearly poking his chest. He neither moved away nor slapped it aside. Instead, his smile grew brighter. When he spoke, his voice remained unhurried, as gentle as a teacher explaining something to a student.
"Mr. Stane, you just asked who I am? A good question. I'm certainly nobody important. Just someone who happened to be with Tony that day, happened to see him get into the vehicle, and then happened to notice he was missing."
He paused, his voice as clear in the silent hall as a scalpel cutting skin.
"You just said Tony was kidnapped because he went to Afghanistan to demonstrate weapons. Then let me ask you something-was his trip decided at the last minute, or arranged in advance?"
Without waiting for Obadiah to answer, he continued, "If it was a last-minute decision, how did the kidnappers know which road he'd take? How did they set up an ambush only a few kilometers from Bagram Base in advance? How did they bring enough heavy firepower to destroy military Humvees? Could you clear that up for me?"
Obadiah's face went from red to white, then from white to ashen. He opened his mouth, but Lin Xiao gave him no chance to speak.
"Those kidnappers all had military-grade equipment. They'd even prepared a cave to hold their hostage beforehand-concealed, easy to defend and hard to attack, no villages nearby, extremely weak satellite reception. This wasn't an impulsive kidnapping. It was a premeditated military operation backed by intelligence and professional planning. And the only people who knew Tony would be on that road that day were company insiders."
Lin Xiao paused. His smile remained gentle, but every word was another nail in a coffin.
"Tony is softhearted. He values relationships. He knows who could betray him, but he may still be coming to terms with it. You're different, Mr. Stane-you just mentioned his father, Howard Stark. If Mr. Howard were alive to see you treating his son like this, what do you think he'd think? He probably never dreamed that the comrade he trusted most would try to deliver his only son to death for a few hundred million dollars in profit."
In that instant, Obadiah's face turned whiter than his shirt. His hand began to shake. His cigar fell, burning a black spot in the carpet. He whipped around toward Tony, trying to find even a trace of wavering on his face-as long as Tony still cared about their old bond, he had a chance to turn things around.
But Tony simply stood a few steps away, watching him without a word. His face was calmer than Obadiah had ever seen, so calm it sent a chill down his spine.
"Mr. Stane," Lin Xiao spoke again.
Obadiah slowly turned back to the young man before him. That smile remained on his face, but now it looked more frightening than any weapon.
"Do you know something? I spent three months in Afghanistan. I met members of the Ten Rings, desert bandits, and outlaws who killed for a few pieces of bread. But honestly-not one of them was as frightening as you. Because they were bad people, and they knew it. You, however, are a traitor dressed as a friend, wearing a suit and tie, standing in the highest halls of civilized society."
Having finished, Lin Xiao raised his wineglass and took an elegant sip, then gave a slight bow, his tone as light as if he were concluding a pleasant afternoon tea.
"One more thing, Mr. Stane. I have to remind you-when it comes to arguing with someone from Dragon Country, you're hopelessly outclassed."
The dining hall was so quiet that even breathing could be heard clearly. Several guests had forgotten to lower their raised glasses. Cold sweat beaded on some foreheads; others had forgotten to close their mouths. But nobody spoke. Every gaze was fixed on Lin Xiao.
Obadiah stood rooted in place, his whole body stiff. He could see the looks around him changing-from initial confusion to shock, then to something cold and appraising. After decades in business, he knew all too well what those looks meant. It was over. Not legally-they had no hard evidence. But in these people's minds, this gently smiling giant had carved his crimes onto his face with a verbal scalpel.
He abruptly turned and strode toward the door. His steps were no longer composed, his back looking somewhat stooped in the light at the entrance. Only after he disappeared through the doorway did the suffocating tension in the hall slowly begin to dissipate.
Tony stood in silence for a long while. Then he set down his glass and walked toward Lin Xiao.
"You shouldn't have treated him like that," Tony said very quietly.
Lin Xiao looked at him without speaking.
"He was my father's friend, after all. I've known him for so many years. He's done a lot of wrong things, I know. I know better than you do. But some things..." Tony didn't finish. He merely shook his head.
Lin Xiao still said nothing. He raised his glass and finished the last of his wine.
"Tony." His tone suddenly turned serious, no longer concealing a blade behind a smile, but something calmer. "Your greatest weakness isn't your arrogance, your smart mouth, or your love of stealing the spotlight at press conferences. Your greatest weakness is being softhearted. Being soft on your enemies means being cruel to yourself. You spent three months in a cave. I thought you'd learned that lesson."
Tony remained silent.
"You know I wouldn't hurt you. I said those things because you couldn't bring yourself to do it, and someone has to. If I hadn't been here today, he would have painted you as a traumatized, irrational, pitiful man who needed to be kept safe. And because you value your old bond, you wouldn't have contradicted him in front of all these people. Then what? Tomorrow, the Wall Street papers would say-Stark Industries CEO's mental state causes concern, stock plunges. He's using his friendship with your father as a weapon. Can't you think about yourself, too?"
Tony lowered his head. His lips moved, but in the end, he only sighed.
At some point, Yinsen had come over. Standing beside them, his expression was as tranquil as still water. He had watched the entire confrontation from the sidelines, but now his face showed neither indignation nor tension, only a doctor's particular composure.
"Lin Xiao has a point, Tony, though his approach was rather forceful." His voice was as gentle as if he were comforting a patient in a hospital room. "Still, I might have done the same tonight. Tony, you don't need to forgive or make a decision right now. Feelings take time to settle, especially after everything that's happened. But for now, I suggest we go somewhere we can truly relax."
He pointed upward. "You told me this building has the best view from the roof. Come on. Bring that bottle of whiskey you've been hiding for so long."
Stark Tower's rooftop was vast, large enough for three helicopters. But at that moment, it belonged to only three people. Distance filtered the city's clamor into a vague background hum, and Manhattan's countless lights spread beneath their feet like a river of stars.
Tony came up carrying an unlabeled bottle of Scotch. Its dark glass gleamed amber in the moonlight. He pulled out the cork, drank straight from the bottle, and handed it to Yinsen beside him.
Yinsen accepted it and took a swig without hesitation. Lowering the bottle, he wiped his mouth and shifted his gaze from the lights below to the night sky above. He was silent for a long time. Then he spoke softly, as though talking to himself.
"Three months ago, the first thing I did every morning was check my pulse to make sure I was still alive," Yinsen murmured, lowering his eyes.
Tony said nothing. He leaned against the railing, watching Yinsen's profile.
"Yinsen." Tony suddenly spoke, his voice low and carrying a rare solemnity. "I want you to head Stark Industries' medical research and development division. Not as a figurehead. As its actual director. I've had the lawyers draw up the papers. Five percent of the company's shares, with annual dividends. You can use those resources to develop anything you find meaningful. You won't have to consider profits or the market. Just one thing: can it leave fewer people in this world as desperate as we were?"
Yinsen turned to look at Tony. His expression barely changed, but Lin Xiao noticed his fingers tighten. Only after a long while did Yinsen speak, his voice soft. "Tony, I-"
"Don't refuse." Lin Xiao stood by the railing, both arms resting on it as he gazed at the lights below. "Yinsen, you saved this bastard's life. If you don't let him repay you, he won't sleep at night. Besides, he's rich anyway. If you don't help him spend some of it, he'll feel uncomfortable all over."
Lin Xiao turned as he spoke, his trademark smile returning along with his lazy manner. "But Tony, speaking of shares, shouldn't you set some aside for me too? I'm not greedy. I mainly want to be Yinsen's coworker. Sounds impressive when I tell people. So, Tony? Have you transferred my cut yet?"
"Transferred, my ass." Tony laughed and cursed, his laughter scattering in the night breeze. "You think shares grow on trees?"
"Hey? Is this how you treat the man who saved your life?"
"You really are insatiable."
Yinsen watched the two men before him-one a billionaire who had changed his fate, the other a monster who had carried him out of a cave through a hail of gunfire. Yet now they stood in front of him like two bickering schoolboys.
"It's good to be alive," Yinsen said, his voice quiet, yet as though he had used every ounce of strength.
Tony and Lin Xiao stopped bickering at the same time. Both turned to Yinsen, looking at his calm face and faint smile. Silence settled over the rooftop like a thin layer of frost.
"It's good to be alive," Tony repeated, his voice earnest.
"It's good to be alive," Lin Xiao echoed, smiling, though there wasn't a trace of joking in his eyes.
Three glasses clinked together, the clear sound carrying far on the night wind.
Just then, a chime rang in Lin Xiao's mind. This time, a golden screen unfolded directly before his eyes, every word carrying a weight that transcended time and space.
Hidden quest: Tony's Redemption (completed). Completion requirements: Save Tony Stark's life and ensure the survival of the key character Yinsen. Quest rewards: Life Restoration Potion ×5, Mark I Blueprint ×1. Note: Tony Stark in another spacetime could finally say to the surgeon who shared his last half bowl of gruel with him in that cave-I'm sorry.
Looking at the scene before him, Lin Xiao smiled and raised his glass. Tony and Yinsen smiled and raised theirs too.
"It's good to be alive."
PS: We've reached 100,000 Chinese characters! This humble author begs you, dear readers, to follow and request updates. Thank you so much!