Tony came calling
When the knocking sounded, Ye Mo was staring blankly at the cup of Americano that had gone cold.
The voice was rhythmic, three long and two short notes, carrying an undeniable confidence, much like Tony Stark himself, who never liked to give others room to think. Ye Mo put down his cup, adjusted his breathing, and reached up to straighten his silver half-rimmed glasses, hiding the fleeting wariness in his eyes behind the lenses. He straightened the collar of his black hoodie, making sure no wrinkles betrayed his inner turmoil, before walking towards the door with seemingly casual steps, but in reality, every step carefully calculated.
"They've arrived."
Ye Mo opened the door, his signature nonchalant smile on his face. Standing outside was Tony Stark, not in his armor, but in a well-tailored dark blue shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms. The Iron Man seemed to be in a good mood, carrying a tote bag with the Stark Industries logo, as if he were visiting an old friend rather than discussing the Superhuman Registration Act that would determine the fate of superheroes worldwide.
"I knew you were in there." Tony raised an eyebrow, stepping across the threshold with the familiarity of someone returning home. "Your security system is like paper to me. Don't glare at me, I mean it. I cracked that electronic lock last time in less than three seconds. If that technology were used for good, how many unfortunate souls locked in their cars could it save?"
Ye Mo stepped aside, closing the door behind him, and said calmly, "Mr. Stark, this is a private residence, not your laboratory. Also, next time, I suggest you knock before entering; it's basic courtesy, although I know it might be a little difficult for you."
Tony chuckled, casually walking into the living room and tossing his bag onto the coffee table. His gaze swept over the simple yet tidy furnishings before finally settling on Ye Mo. "Don't be so serious, Ye Mo. I'm not here to talk about work today, at least not initially. Let's talk about life, or more accurately, the future."
Ye Mo walked to the sofa and sat down, picking up the remote control on the table. He pretended to adjust the TV settings, but was actually trying to hide his tense nerves. He knew Tony wouldn't come without a reason, especially with the Superhuman Registration Act causing such a stir. Behind every smile, there might be a sharp blade.
"Life?" Ye Mo turned his head, a confused expression on his face. "My life right now is just drifting along, trying to avoid being affected by those crazy superpowered individuals. Mr. Stark, if you want me to give street speeches or sign autographs, you've got the wrong person. I can only fix small appliances, not mend people's hearts."
Tony sat down opposite him, leaning forward, his hands clasped under his chin, his eyes sharpening. "Don't play dumb, Ye Mo. I know you're more than just an ordinary tech geek. Last night in San Francisco, the tactical acumen and battlefield judgment you displayed are beyond what an ordinary person who only knows how to fix appliances could do. And..." He paused, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "Emma Frost Thaddeus Ross has a close relationship with you, and she's one of the best Mutants. In this sensitive time, your very existence is a variable."
Ye Mo's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his nonchalant demeanor. He picked up his coffee and took a sip; the bitterness spread across his tongue, making him slightly more awake. "Mr. Stark, I think you've misunderstood. Emma Frost and I are just friends. As for the San Francisco matter, I just happened to be passing through and helped out a bit. I'm just an ordinary person, really. Besides being a bit sharp, my health is terrible; I catch a cold even from the wind and sun."
"An ordinary person?" Tony chuckled, taking a tablet from his bag and handing it to Ye Mo. "If he were an ordinary person, how could he remain calm in such a chaotic environment? How could he predict the movements of the Yellowjacket? Ye Mo, I don't like beating around the bush. The Superhuman Registration Act is about to pass; it's the wheel of history, and no one can stop it. We need intelligent and capable people like you to stand up and support this act. Not for the government, but for the long-term interests of the superhuman community. Only by being regulated can one be trusted; only by being trusted can one survive."
Ye Mo stared at the draft bill displayed on the tablet screen. The dense text resembled a giant net, attempting to capture all superpowered individuals. Suddenly, a system notification sounded in his mind, cold and mechanical: [High concentration of political oppression detected. Host advised to remain neutral and avoid involvement in the conflict.]
This damn system always has to show up at times like this to spoil the fun. Ye Mo took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the voice in his head. He couldn't directly refuse, nor could he explicitly support. If he stood up now, he could become the target of everyone's criticism, no matter which side he chose. He needed time, more information, and to find the real way out of the fog.
"Support the bill?" Ye Mo put down his tablet, rubbed his temples, and pretended to look exhausted. "Mr. Stark, this matter is too complicated. You know, I've been under a lot of stress lately, often suffering from insomnia, and my memory is deteriorating. Sometimes I can't even remember what I ate yesterday. It's probably not appropriate for me to make a decision at a time like this, is it?"
Tony stared into Ye Mo's eyes, seemingly searching for a flaw. Ye Mo's gaze was somewhat unfocused, his fingers trembling slightly, and coupled with the occasional weak electrical interference from the system in his mind, he made himself look like an ordinary person on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"Memory decline?" Tony frowned, a hint of doubt in his voice. "Ye Mo, you weren't like this before. You know exactly what you're saying."
"People change." Ye Mo sighed, stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Tony. "Maybe it's because I've been watching too much news lately, and I'm feeling a bit irritable. Mr. Stark, I don't think I'm in a good position to discuss such serious topics right now. How about we talk about it another day, after I've had a good night's sleep?"
Tony remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Ye Mo's retreating figure. He didn't press further, nor did he lose his temper; he simply watched the bustling New York cityscape outside the window. After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice low and gentle. "I understand your concerns. Everyone has their own bottom line and fears. I don't demand an answer from you now. But, Ye Mo, you must understand that silence is also a choice. And in the eye of the storm, silence often signifies a certain stance."
After speaking, Tony stood up, straightened his collar, picked up the tote bag, and turned to walk towards the door. He paused as he opened the door, glancing back at Ye Mo. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a half-bright, half-shadowed glow on his face, making it impossible to discern his true thoughts.
Take care, Ye Mo.
The door closed with a soft click.
Silence returned to the room. Ye Mo stood there, listening to the footsteps outside the door gradually fading away until they disappeared completely, before he slowly let out a sigh of relief. He turned around and leaned against the windowsill, his face as pale as paper. That brief moment of pretense had almost exhausted all his mental energy.
He walked to the table, picked up the pen, and added a question mark next to the sketch of the armor he had drawn in the notebook.
Tony was gone, but his words hung like a sword over Ye Mo's head, ready to fall at any moment. Ye Mo realized that Tony was no ordinary man; his keen intuition and powerful insight might have already detected something unusual about him. From now on, any negligence could have fatal consequences.
Ye Mo took off his glasses and rubbed his sore eyes. He walked to the mirror and looked at the slightly pale young man in it. The previous schadenfreude was gone from his eyes, replaced by a deep wariness. He drew the curtains, completely shutting out the sunlight, plunging the room into darkness.
He must be more cautious and hide even deeper. In this vast web of lies, conspiracies, and power, only by maintaining absolute clarity can he find the only way out.