Ye Mo Showed His Charm

Ye Mo stood at the door of the broadcasting room, still holding the microphone that had been handed to him. The lights inside were a bit dazzling. He glanced down at his inner breast pocket and lightly touched the card with his fingers. Not to confirm if it was there, but to remember the feel of it.

He walked in, and just as the host was about to speak, Ye Mo raised his hand to indicate, "I'll only speak for one minute."

No one objected. The mother and daughter looked up at him, and the counselor stopped writing.

"I'm not here to give a speech," he said. "I'm here to fulfill a vow."

The audience was silent.

"Yesterday, when I was carrying water through the ruins, a little girl gave me a drawing. She drew a person standing in the fire, with light behind them. She said it was me. Actually, I didn't feel like a hero that day; I just didn't leave. I'm a survivor of this disaster, just like you."

He paused.

"True heroes never wear capes. They walk ten kilometers every day to deliver supplies, they spend the night with the elderly in buildings without power, they give their last bottle of water to others. I'm no better than them, I just happen to have a few special skills."

After saying that, he left without waiting for applause or turning back.

It was already daylight outside. The wind was blowing quite strong, so he zipped his trench coat up to his neck and walked towards the street corner.

At 5 a. m. the next morning, smoke was still rising from the east side of the teaching building. Structural experts said the building could collapse at any moment and that no one was allowed to approach it. But some people heard cats meowing, coming from the third floor, intermittently.

No one dared to go in.

Ye Mo was the first person to appear at the scene. He wasn't wearing his battle gear or glasses, just a black hoodie and an old bag. Reporters later discovered it was him after reviewing the surveillance footage.

He circled around to the back wall, made sure no one was watching, and then slipped through it in a flash. The wall opened and closed like water, leaving no trace.

The third-floor corridor was completely dusty, with half a steel bar hanging from the ceiling. A storage cabinet in the corner was bent under the weight, and a tabby cat was stuck inside, its legs covered in blood.

Ye Mo crouched down and whispered, "Don't be afraid."

He didn't try to pry it open by force, but instead slowly pried open the deformed metal. His fingers were worn raw, and blood mixed with rust dripped down. The cat struggled at first, but then, realizing he was saving it, it stopped moving.

Twenty minutes later, the cabinet opened. He took off his coat, wrapped it around the cat, and went back the way he came.

It was just getting light when he came out. He carried the cat to an animal rescue station two blocks away, where there was a line of people registering missing pets.

When it was his turn, the staff asked for his name.

He wrote: Mr. X.

The other person looked up at him, then looked down and wrote it down. They didn't ask any further questions.

That afternoon, a volunteer posted in the group. "Mr. X came to our station and rescued a cat." Then a photo surfaced—a figure from behind, wearing a black hoodie, carrying something in his arms, walking towards the sunlight.

On the third day at noon, the local television station aired a street interview program, inviting several survivors to talk about their lives after the disaster. The host suddenly asked, "Who do you think you should thank most right now?"

The interviewee mentioned a bunch of names, including Tony, Thor, and S.H.I.E.L.D..

The host laughed and said, "What about Mr. X? His story of rescuing the cat is all over the internet."

The man paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know him, but my son does. He had a fever that day, and Mr. X carried him to the makeshift hospital. On the way, he told him stories, like the one about Sun Wukong fighting monsters in ' Journey to the West '."

An older woman nearby chimed in, "The trash can downstairs from my apartment tipped over, and he was the one who picked it up. I thought it was some kind neighbor."

The host could no longer laugh.

Before the live stream ended, she added a question, "If you were to say something to Mr. X right now, what would you say?"

Several people said, "Thank you for not leaving."

On the fourth day, a new hashtag appeared on the trending topics list: #Mr Mr. X's Quotes#.

It all started with a short video. The background was a community cleanup scene, with a group of people wearing masks sweeping the ground. Ye Mo stood in front of the camera, but his face wasn't fully visible.

He said, "Courage is not impulsiveness. It's choosing to take a step forward even after recognizing the danger."

The video is only thirty seconds long, but it has been viewed over ten million times.

But then something bad happened. A young man imitated him, rushing into the dilapidated building to look for someone, and was injured when a falling beam struck him. While being taken to the hospital, he was still shouting, "I want to be Mr. X too!"

That evening, Ye Mo posted a second video.

In the same spot, he squatted among a group of volunteers, pointing to the neatly sorted trash bags on the ground.

Everyone has their own battlefield. Yours may not be in the ruins. It might be eating on time, talking to your parents, or persevering and never giving up.

He stood up and dusted off his pants.

Don't be like me. Just be yourself.

On the evening of the fifth day, a teenager sat in front of the monument in Central Park. He kept his head down, and the counseling team went three times but couldn't persuade him. Someone said that his younger brother had died, and he hadn't spoken since.

Ye Mo glanced at his watch as he passed by; it was 6:17.

He didn't go over there, but instead walked to a nearby bench, sat down, and took a book out of his bag. The book was old, with curled edges, and the cover read "The Ordinary World".

He opened it and read it page by page. The wind blew by, and the pages rustled.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour.

The boy didn't move, nor did he look up.

As dusk approached, Ye Mo closed his book and stood up. Passing the boy, he didn't stop, but left the book on the bench.

There are words on the title page, written in pencil:

You don't have to be anyone's shadow; your light will illuminate the way.

After he walked away, the boy slowly raised his head, glanced at the bench, and then looked at his back.

Then he stood up, walked over, and picked up the book.

On the morning of the sixth day, a new volunteer arrived at the library. He was a young man, conscientious in his work, and not very talkative. When the librarian asked him why he came, he said he wanted to see how others survived.

On the same day, 372 new volunteer application forms were submitted. Twenty-one of them gave the same reason. "Because I watched that video."

Ye Mo was unaware of these things.

He was helping set up tents in another block. Someone recognized him and wanted to take a picture, but he waved them off. The person didn't chase after him.

At noon, he was sitting by the roadside eating his boxed lunch when his phone vibrated. It was a message from Emma Frost, asking if he wanted to go back to the base.

He replied: Not in a hurry.

Looking up, I saw several children drawing in the distance. The paper was full of colorful figures, some flying in the sky, others rescuing people on the ground. One of the children ran over with the drawing and stuffed it into my hand.

The painting reads: Thank you, Mr. X.

He accepted it.

At 3 p. m., he went to the supplies center and picked up new work clothes and gloves. The person in charge asked him if he was going to join the moving team again.

He said yes.

The other person laughed, "You know what? Everyone's scrambling to be in your group now. They say working with Mr. X means you'll have good luck."

He didn't smile, he just nodded and took the task sheet.

At eight o'clock in the evening, he was walking home. In his coat pocket was a new volunteer application form, which he had filled out himself.

There weren't many people on the street, and the streetlights were turning on one by one.

He turned into the alley and stopped.

There was a puddle of water on the ground ahead, reflecting the light of the sky.

He looked down, then suddenly raised his hand and gently pressed his left shoulder.

It was once pierced by Loki's beam, and the skin is now intact, but it still gets a bit heavy on rainy days.

He didn't say anything and continued walking forward.

As I reached the alley entrance, a delivery truck was parked on the side of the road, and the driver leaned out.

"You are... Mr. X?"

Ye Mo nodded.

"Here, take this." The driver handed over a package. "It's anonymously sent, and it says, 'I must deliver it to you personally.'"

He took it; the box wasn't heavy, and the packaging was very ordinary.

He didn't dismantle it on the spot.

As I turned to leave, the wind picked up again.

One corner of the package was blown open slightly, revealing the red fabric inside.

He pressed it down with his hand and continued walking forward.