An Exchange of Intelligence

The vibranium fragment was still hot. The instant it touched the computer casing, Ye Mo knew something was wrong. The connection request in the system notification had vanished, but the feeling of being watched still clung to his spine. He turned off the screen and slipped the fragment into his hoodie's inner pocket. His fingertips trembled slightly the moment they touched the metal-it was like a living thing, still vibrating.

He did not want to wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to send someone over.

He took out his phone, found the emergency contact number Coulson had left him, and dialed. The call connected on the third ring.

"Something wrong?" Coulson's voice was as steady as it had been that morning, betraying no change in emotion.

"That piece of metal just lit up on its own." Ye Mo leaned against the study doorframe, his tone light. "I thought you might be running some remote activation project. Want to come take a look yourself? Don't blame me if it blows up."

There were two seconds of silence on the other end. "Are you at the estate?"

"Of course. It's not like I have anywhere else to go."

"Ten minutes."

After hanging up, Ye Mo took off his glasses and slowly wiped the lenses. This was no ordinary habit; he was adjusting his pupil frequency to prepare for the upcoming Telepathy synchronization. He knew someone like Coulson would not talk easily. He had to make him say it himself.

Ten minutes later, the man in the suit sat down on the bench again. This time, he neither showed his credentials nor mentioned the listening devices.

"You said the metal was behaving abnormally?" Coulson got straight to the point.

"Yes." Ye Mo opened his hand, the fragment lying quietly in his palm. "It tried to connect to something just now. I cut it off. But I'm guessing you know what's going on."

Coulson stared at the fragment for a few seconds. "Why didn't you let it connect?"

"Because I'm not a test subject." Ye Mo withdrew the fragment. "What I want to know is, how do you plan to handle people like me? Someone who suddenly appears, with no registration, no background, and the ability to predict other people's actions."

Coulson did not answer immediately.

Ye Mo put on his glasses, slowed his breathing, and quietly spread his awareness. His ability was not mind reading, but influence-a slight push to the other person's thoughts, sending them sliding toward what he wanted to hear. Like tossing a pebble onto the surface of the water, the ripples would spread naturally.

"If one day you discover that a mutant has awakened a dangerous ability," he asked softly, "is your first response recruitment, surveillance, or elimination?"

Coulson's brow moved almost imperceptibly. "Threat assessment comes first."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes flickered slightly, as though he realized he had said too much.

But Ye Mo had already caught the key point. He lowered his voice further. "Then what about someone like me, with no organization and no background?"

This time, Coulson remained silent longer. His gaze shifted for an instant, and his finger tapped lightly against his knee.

Now.

Ye Mo increased the amplitude of his Telepathy fluctuations. Rather than forcing control, he created an "illusion of resonance," making the other man mistakenly believe the thought had originated in his own mind.

"Unless you demonstrate irreplaceable value," Coulson said quietly, "otherwise... it's difficult to obtain a long-term exemption."

Ye Mo's heart sank.

Just as I thought. S.H.I.E.L.D. never truly trusted mutants. Even if you had saved people or stopped a coup, you were still nothing but a potential risk in their eyes.

But he could not let it show.

He immediately withdrew his ability and gave a faint, bitter smile. "Sounds like I'd better hurry up and prove I'm not dead weight."

Coulson looked at him, his gaze sharpening again. "There was something odd about your cadence just now."

"Was there?" Ye Mo shrugged. "I just think that instead of having you watch me in secret, we should do this openly."

"Openly?"

"I'll hand this fragment over to you for testing." Ye Mo took the fragment from his pocket and held it in his palm. "On the condition that you share the results. You investigate its origin, and I get to know what project it's connected to."

Coulson said nothing, his eyes resting on the metal.

"I know you're afraid of losing control," Ye Mo said. "But I'm even more afraid of becoming a target for no apparent reason. How about we both give a little?"

Wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves.

Coulson finally reached out, took the fragment, and placed it in a sealed bag he carried with him.

"I'll submit an analysis request," he said. "But whether you get the results isn't up to me."

"Better than nothing." Ye Mo smiled. "At least you're holding evidence now, instead of hiding behind a camera watching playback."

Coulson stood and straightened his suit. "You're very smart."

"And I hope you won't underestimate my will to survive."

They held each other's gaze for a second, neither shaking hands nor saying goodbye. Coulson turned and left, his steps as steady as ever.

Ye Mo stayed where he was until he saw the black SUV drive out through the estate gates. Only then did he slowly exhale.

He had won a round.

Not through system notifications, phasing through walls, or Thermal Vision, but by using his brains and abilities to probe them in return. He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. would not trust him easily, but as long as they thought he was still "useful," they would not move against him lightly.

Back in the study, he opened his laptop, brought up an encrypted folder, and recorded the key points of that day's conversation:

1. S.H.I.E.L.D. had an "early intervention" contingency plan for mutants.

2. Value was the only bargaining chip for securing room to survive.

3. The vibranium fragment was connected to an undisclosed project.

After finishing, he stared at the screen for a moment, then suddenly remembered something and listed the information on the vibranium fragment separately. Its ability to actively attempt a connection to the system meant someone behind it was using it to synchronize signals. Who? Why choose this moment?

As he pondered, his phone vibrated.

The new message was from Tony: [Conference room at three. Don't be late.]

Ye Mo checked the time. Two fifteen.

Still enough time.

He closed the laptop, rose, and headed toward the main building. The corridor lights were steady, his footsteps clear. As he passed through the hall, JARVIS's voice sounded. "Sir, Agent Coulson has left. The visitor log has been updated."

"Got it." Ye Mo nodded. "While you're at it, check whether any external signals have tried to access the estate's network recently, especially shortwave signals in the high-frequency bands."

"Scanning... an encrypted pulse signal was detected three hours ago. Its source cannot be traced. It lasted seven seconds."

Seven seconds.

That was exactly when the vibranium fragment had begun to glow.

Ye Mo stopped walking.

They were trying to connect-not once, but twice. He had interrupted the first attempt with resonance interference. The second had made indirect contact through the equipment Coulson brought.

These people have some nerve.

He kept walking, slipping his hand into his hoodie pocket. His fingertips touched the silver half-rim glasses. While he was adjusting his brainwave frequency earlier, the system had issued a brief notification:

[Consciousness field deviation detected. Cooldown countdown: 90 seconds]

That meant this kind of operation came at a cost. Excessive use of mind control would put the system into a brief dormant state.

But he did not care.

As long as he could seize the initiative, so be it. At worst, he would prepare a few extra seconds next time.

The conference room was on the east side of the second floor. Light passed through its glass walls, offering a view of the lawn outside. Ye Mo pushed the door open and entered. No one was inside. Two cups of coffee sat on the table, with a sticky note beside one of them:

[Yours. Don't drink the wrong one. -T]

He picked up the cup without the note and took a sip. It was so bitter that he frowned.

Typical Tony and his twisted sense of humor.

Setting down the cup, he walked to the window and looked at the distant sky. Thick clouds blocked half the sunlight. The wind was mild, and the treetops barely moved.

Wait.

Barely?

He suddenly realized that this word had appeared in his mind.

Impossible. He never spoke English, especially at a time like this.

And-

He raised his hand and looked at his palm.

Beneath his skin, an extremely thin blue line flashed past, like an electric current, or a stream of data.