Lin Xiao was woken by his phone alarm. Half asleep, he fumbled for his phone and squinted at the time: 9:10. Training started at nine.
"Fuck, I'm late."
Lin Xiao rushed into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and pulled on his newly tailored dark gray suit. He had meant to save it for a formal occasion, but there was no time to worry about that now. He raked his hair twice in the mirror, grabbed the sunglasses on the table, and hurried out of the apartment.
New York's morning rush hour was as much of a clusterfuck as ever. His taxi spent a full twenty minutes stuck in traffic before reaching the entrance to the Triskelion.
By the time Lin Xiao pushed through the revolving door, his watch read 9:40.
Someone stood at the entrance to the lobby.
She wore a tight black tactical outfit that outlined her shapely yet powerful curves. Her red curls were tied neatly behind her head, revealing a finely defined jawline and a pair of gray-green eyes. Those eyes were staring coldly at him.
Her arms were folded across her chest, and the toe of one foot tapped lightly against the floor.
The rhythm was unhurried, but to Lin Xiao, it somehow sounded like a countdown.
"Oh." He stopped in his tracks, an ingratiating smile reflexively spreading across his face. "Good morning, Agent Natasha."
Natasha ignored his greeting. She glanced down at her watch, then looked up again, her voice unhurried, every word like a blade soaked in ice water. "Well, if it isn't our great hero who braved Afghanistan. Director Fury's most valued level-six agent."
Lin Xiao's smile froze for a moment.
"I-"
"Your very first day of training, personally assigned by the director," Natasha tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smile in her tone, a smile that sent a chill down Lin Xiao's back, "and you show up this late?"
"Traffic," Lin Xiao blurted out.
"Traffic." Natasha repeated it and nodded, as though seriously considering the validity of that excuse. She held out a hand, palm up.
"What?" Lin Xiao blinked.
"A fine for being late. Twenty dollars per ten minutes. You're forty minutes late, so that's eighty bucks. I'll give you a discount: a hundred."
Lin Xiao's eyes widened, and he laughed in exasperation. A reverse discount-now he had seen everything. He had worked his ass off beating up American soldiers in Afghanistan for only five hundred dollars a head, and this lady was taking a hundred just for standing at the door?
"Did the director say there were fines for being late to training?" Lin Xiao asked with difficulty.
"No, I just added that rule to teach agents punctuality. I'm your instructor now, after all." Her lips then curved upward in a way that made Lin Xiao want to hit someone.
Lin Xiao stayed silent for a long while, then lowered his head and reached into his suit's inner pocket. As he took out his wallet, he suddenly remembered something: the black lace stocking was still wrapped around his left arm beneath his cuff, with a tiny strip of lace edging still showing.
His movement paused for a moment. Then he continued pulling out his wallet with his right hand as though nothing had happened, letting his left hand drop naturally and using the motion to tug his cuff down. He moved quickly, too quickly for an ordinary person to notice.
But Natasha was no ordinary person.
She was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents. She could tell whether someone was lying from how often they blinked. To her, Lin Xiao's tiny attempt to shield his left cuff with his right hand was practically a loudspeaker announcement: There's something in my sleeve.
Her gaze swept over his left cuff.
Half a centimeter of black lace edging showed there. Very narrow. Very short. But with Natasha's eyesight, she could even make out the lace pattern clearly.
That pattern looked familiar. Very familiar.
Her pupils contracted slightly for an instant before returning to normal. The expression on her exquisite face did not shift, but Lin Xiao noticed that the curve of her lips had changed. Before, it had been icy mockery. Now it was something else-more dangerous, scalp-prickling, the kind of focus that appeared when taking aim at prey.
Lin Xiao swallowed, pulled out his wallet, and handed her two hundred-dollar bills. "An extra hundred to help you cool off."
Natasha took the money without much expression, folded it, and tucked it into her tactical pocket. But Lin Xiao noticed that her face had reddened and her clenched hand had gone white.
"Come with me." Natasha turned toward the elevator.
Lin Xiao followed, taking the opportunity to tuck the lace farther into his left sleeve.
The training room was on the Triskelion's third basement level. It was as large as a basketball court, covered in gray nonslip mats, with all kinds of training equipment hanging on the walls and several thoroughly battered dummies piled in a corner. Recessed ceiling lights cast a cold white glow that made the whole room look like an operating theater.
"Physical training." Natasha removed her jacket, revealing the fitted tactical tank top beneath, and walked to the control panel to press a few buttons. A ring of red indicator lights lit up on the floor mats. "Warm-up. Run around the training floor until I tell you to stop."
Lin Xiao looked around the training floor. A lap was about two hundred meters. He thought there was nothing difficult about that, took off his jacket, draped it over a nearby rack, and started running.
Ten minutes passed. Natasha stood beside the console, arms folded, watching Lin Xiao finish his twentieth lap at a steady pace. His breathing was even, his face was not flushed, and his heart was not racing. He even had enough to spare to flash her a grin.
Her brow furrowed slightly, then quickly smoothed.
Twenty minutes passed. Lin Xiao finished his fortieth lap. His stride remained steady and his breathing even. As he passed Natasha, he even found time to ask, "Instructor, are we done warming up? I'm getting a little chilly. The AC's a bit cold."
Natasha's expression remained calm, but her folded arms tightened a little.
Thirty minutes passed. Lin Xiao finished his sixtieth lap. His steps were almost no different from his first lap, and his breathing maintained the same rhythm, as though his lungs were made of titanium alloy. He even started humming a Dragon Country song, "Pleasant Goat and Big Big Fierce," while running, so far off-key that the tune had wandered out into the Atlantic Ocean.
"Stop." Natasha finally called a halt.
Lin Xiao stopped where he was, took a slight breath, and wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, offering an honest-looking smile. "All warmed up. What's next?"
Natasha looked at his sincere face and fell silent for a moment.
"Core strength training." She took a twenty-kilogram solid iron ball from the rack and handed it to Lin Xiao. "Catch."
Lin Xiao caught it one-handed, as easily as catching an apple.
"Hold it above your head. Sit-ups. Thirty per set."
Lin Xiao lay down and started. His form was textbook-perfect, his rhythm steady, and every sit-up had exactly the right range of motion. The solid ball looked like an inflatable plastic toy in his hands. Twenty kilograms was probably about the same to him as two bottles of water were to an ordinary person.
The first set. The second. The third. The fifth. The tenth.
Lin Xiao set the ball aside, got up from the mat, and brushed the dust off himself. "What else?"
Natasha watched him. Even his breathing had not faltered.
Natasha took a deep breath, turned to the equipment rack, and took down four weighted bands. These were training equipment S.H.I.E.L.D. had specially made for strength-type agents. Each weighed fifty kilograms and could be worn on the wrists or ankles for added resistance. After taking them down, she rolled her eyes thoughtfully and grabbed four more.
"Put them on. Pull-ups. The bar's over there."
Lin Xiao spread his hands, pretending to look put out. "I protest. Why eight instead of four?"
Natasha's smile was beautiful and sweet, with unmistakable mischief in her eyes. "Protest denied."
Lin Xiao said nothing. He fastened the eight weighted bands around his wrists and ankles, two on each, walked beneath the pull-up bar, jumped up to grab it, and began doing pull-ups.
One. Five. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Eventually, that was not enough for him, and he even started performing difficult moves like invincible windmill spins and Thomas flares.
Lin Xiao released the bar, and the floor trembled slightly when he landed. He rolled his wrists, looked up at the bar, and muttered, "Pretty sturdy bar." Then he turned to Natasha. "What's next?"
Natasha stood there with her arms crossed, expressionless. Her face was still exquisite and icy, but the corners of her mouth were twitching wildly.
"Firearms training." Natasha turned toward the shooting range, her tone no longer as composed as it had been at the start.
The shooting range was next door to the training room. It was a long, narrow room with a row of human-shaped targets at the far end. Several disassembled handguns lay on a table, their parts reflecting a cold, hard sheen beneath the lights.
"Glock 17. Standard issue." Natasha approached the table, her fingers sweeping over the parts as swiftly as the wind. In under three seconds, she had assembled a complete handgun. She handed it to Lin Xiao. "See that target? Ten rounds. Eight hits to pass."
Lin Xiao took the gun and turned it over in his hands. He had never touched a real gun in this life-no, in either of his lives. In Afghanistan, he had mostly solved problems with his fists. To him, guns were more like toys in his enemies' hands. He raised the gun and aimed at the target with completely improper form, his left hand still hanging at his side as he held the gun in his right hand alone.
Watching his less-than-amateur grip, Natasha finally smiled a little. It was the first time that day she had genuinely wanted to smile.
Then Lin Xiao pulled the trigger.
The first shot struck the bull's-eye. So did the second. And the third.
After all ten shots, a coin-sized hole had been blasted through the very center of the target. All ten bullets had passed through that same hole, as precisely as though measured with a ruler.
Lin Xiao set the gun on the table and scratched his head. "This thing barely kicks. I thought it would jar my hand."
The shooting range stayed silent for several whole seconds.
Natasha looked down at the handgun, then back up at Lin Xiao. She had seen plenty of strength-type agents. Some were born tanks, able to take hits and dish them out, but terrible shots. Yet this two-meter-ten wall of muscle had picked up a real gun for the first time, used completely improper form, put all ten shots through the bull's-eye, and then said the recoil was weak.
This was no longer talent. This was a monster.
"Give me your hand," Natasha suddenly said.
Puzzled, Lin Xiao held out his hand. Natasha took his wrist, turned his palm upward, and examined the web between his thumb and forefinger. No calluses. Nor were there marks on the inside of his index finger from prolonged gun use. She released him, stepped back half a pace, and studied the big man before her in an entirely new light.
"You really haven't handled a gun," she said.
"I haven't." Lin Xiao nodded honestly.
"First time shooting?"
"First time." Lin Xiao thought for a moment, then added, "Do toy water guns when I was a kid count?"
Natasha pressed her lips into a line. The way she looked at Lin Xiao suggested she was calculating something, or holding something back. For an instant, Lin Xiao thought he saw something almost deserving of the words "utterly exasperated" in those gray-green eyes. But it lasted only an instant, barely a blink, before something deeper and more dangerous replaced it. It was the look of a hunter locking onto prey.
She tucked her red hair behind her ear, the corners of her eyes curving slightly and her lips lifting just enough. But Lin Xiao had a bad feeling.
"Lin Xiao," her voice turned sweet and soft, "you did exceptionally well in the physical and firearms training. As your instructor, I'm very pleased." She enunciated "pleased" with particular clarity.
A chill ran down Lin Xiao's back. He instinctively wanted to retreat, but the table was behind him.
"Next is lesson three: agent reconnaissance, counter-surveillance, and concealment training. A hundred points across the three subjects."
She paused, her smile deepening a little.
"Of those, concealment is worth eighty."
Lin Xiao's expression froze.
"Eighty?" His voice rose half a pitch above normal. "You just said the three subjects total a hundred points, and concealment alone is worth eighty?"
"That's right."
"Then the other two-"
"Ten for reconnaissance, ten for counter-surveillance." Natasha sounded perfectly matter-of-fact, as though announcing an unquestionable law of physics. "I'm your instructor. I decide the grading criteria."
Lin Xiao fell silent. Looking at Natasha's still-alluring smile, he finally understood something: this woman had never intended to let him pass. The physical and firearms training had only been a warm-up. The real punishment came afterward. Concealment was worth eighty points. All she had to do was declare him "unsatisfactory," and everything he had done before would count for nothing.
"You're screwing with me," Lin Xiao pointed out bluntly.
Natasha tilted her head, her smile growing brighter. "Yes, I am. What are you going to do about it?"
She said it openly and unapologetically, with an almost innocent delight. As though using her position to settle a personal score was not something she needed to hide, but rather her greatest source of fun that day.
Lin Xiao watched the woman smiling like a poppy before him. He stayed silent for several seconds, tapping his fingers against the outside of his thigh.
Then he smiled too.
"Instructor," Lin Xiao said, his voice suddenly very serious, "a question. What exactly does this concealment training involve?"
"Very simple." Natasha walked to the training room console and pressed a few buttons. A huge wall display lit up, showing a cross-section of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Building. "I'll give you thirty minutes to find somewhere in this building to hide. I'll have forty-five minutes to find you. If time runs out and I haven't found you, you win. If I find you..." She glanced back at him. "You lose. And if you lose, your grade..."
Lin Xiao frowned. "Stop beating around the bush. You're targeting me like this-what exactly do you want?"
Natasha turned around and leaned against the console, arms folded, the smile on her face growing more suggestive.
"You should know what I want. A certain big guy stole something from me, and I already have the evidence." Her voice lowered, carrying a deliberately mysterious note. "Maybe I'll make you write a report explaining exactly how you stole it."
Lin Xiao's pupils contracted, then he frowned. "What if I win?"
Natasha's smile deepened. She tucked her hair behind her ear and asked lazily, "What would you like?"
Lin Xiao's expression suddenly grew especially solemn. He looked less like someone making a wager than someone about to announce a major decision, his gaze fixed directly on Natasha.
"Then I won't hold back either. I want your other armband."
The air instantly froze.
Natasha's composure finally cracked. A fissure appeared in her air of having everything under control, and a faint pink visibly spread from her fair neck to her ears. It lasted only an instant, and she quickly returned to normal, but Lin Xiao saw it.
A long, suffocating silence.
Then Natasha laughed. It was neither her earlier icy mockery nor her recent seductive teasing, but a teeth-gritting laugh of someone so furious she almost found it funny.
"Fine." She bit off the word crisply. "Deal. If you lose, not only will you write a report explaining what you did that day-how you stole it, every detail of the process-but you'll also wash my clothes for a month. By hand."
Lin Xiao blinked.
"Wash your clothes for a month?" he repeated, his tone carrying a kind of incredulous delight.
"Yes."
"Your clothes?"
"Yes."
"The close-fitting kind?"
Natasha's smile faltered.
Lin Xiao lowered his head and muttered something. It was quiet, but particularly clear in the spacious training room:
"Are you sure you're not rewarding me?"
Natasha's face darkened. Completely.