After a full day of classes, Mio had thoroughly experienced what it meant to be “a person afraid of being famous.” During breaks, many other female students would crowd around.
Some asked if she dyed her hair, some asked where she came from, some asked how she studied so well, and some even came to ask for her contact information.
The people hitting on her came in waves.
Mio kept a cold face the whole time.
If she could answer in one word, she absolutely wouldn’t use two.
She bluntly rebuffed everyone who tried to hit on her, leaving no room for anyone.
She just wanted to be a transparent person and didn’t want to have any presence in the school.
Finally making it to the end of the school day, Mio packed her bag the moment the bell rang, pulled up her hoodie to cover her conspicuous white hair, and walked briskly out of the classroom.
She just wanted to leave school quickly and go to Chinatown for a hot Chinese meal.
“Mio!
Wait a moment!” Peter hugged his bag and chased after her, blocking her path.
With a shy smile on his face, he said earnestly again: “I’m really grateful for what happened this morning.
Also, if there’s anything you’re unfamiliar with, like school coursework or the roads in New York, you can ask me.
I’ve lived here for a long time.” Mio looked at his sincere eyes and was silent for two seconds.
She knew Peter meant well, but she knew even better that the closer she got to him, the more trouble there would be.
So she just shook her head faintly, her tone still distant: “No need, thank you.” After speaking, she didn’t give Peter another chance to talk, sidestepped around him, and quickly walked into the crowd of students leaving school.
The hood covered most of her face, and she soon disappeared into the crowd.
Peter stood where he was, watching her disappearing back, and scratched his head helplessly, but he didn’t chase after her again.
Today was a close call.
Although she accidentally had an intersection with Peter Parker, at least it didn’t cause big trouble and didn’t expose her abilities.
It doesn’t matter.
As long as she continues to keep a low profile and doesn’t have any entanglement with him, there won’t be a problem.
She pulled her hoodie, covering more of her white hair, turned into the subway station, and disappeared into New York’s crowd again.
— — Youth (?
Prayer in progress…
The night in New York is never truly quiet, especially in the area bordering Queens and Manhattan.
The light from neon signs can seep through several streets, yet it cannot light up the dim and narrow alleys deep inside.
Mio sat at her apartment desk, her fingertips unconsciously tapping the desktop, her gaze falling on the anonymous email just received on the computer screen.
The sender information was wiped clean.
The content was simple and direct: Repair a crashed enterprise-class server, fix the corrupted core files of the database, complete within a two-hour time limit, cash settlement, payment of 1,500 U.S.
dollars.
The location is in Hells Kitchen, an Underground Room near 10th Avenue.
Her first reaction was to delete the email directly.
What kind of place is Hells Kitchen?
The most chaotic lawless land in all of New York, occupied by gangs, with more shootings than convenience stores.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
and the Police are too lazy to manage the mess here.
Whether you can come out intact after going in once depends on luck.
She had tried so hard to survive for so long, there was absolutely no need to jump into a fire pit for a sum of money.
But when the mouse moved to the delete key, her finger paused.
1,500 U.S.
dollars.
And it’s cash.
She currently works herself to the bone taking four or five small jobs a day, and she only earns less than 200 dollars.
This single order is worth almost a week of her income.
This money could improve her quality of life significantly, and the other party stated very clearly that it was just to repair a server, go quickly and return quickly, without involving other matters.
Mio leaned back in the chair, staring at that number, struggling for a full three minutes, and finally lost to reality.
No way, he gave too much.
She took a deep breath and replied with an email, writing only two words: Deal.
Immediately, she got up, pulled up her hoodie, tucked all her white hair inside, revealing only a bit of the tips, and put on a pair of plain black-framed glasses to cover her overly conspicuous sea-blue eyes.
After confirming in the mirror that she looked like an ordinary Asian student working a part-time job, she grabbed her wallet and portable computer, locked the door, and left the apartment.
The further the subway went into Manhattan, the more oppressive the atmosphere in the carriage became.
A drunkard leaned against the carriage wall, muttering to himself, a tattooed man leaned in the corner, eyeing everyone with sinister eyes, and the air was mixed with the smell of alcohol, tobacco, and cheap perfume.
Mio huddled in the corner, keeping her eyes down the whole time, minimizing her presence.
Leaving the subway station, the scene in Hells Kitchen was completely different from Queens.
Most of the buildings on the street were mottled and dilapidated, the walls were covered with messy graffiti, most of the street lights were broken, and only a few bars with neon lights still showed a little light.
From time to time, the swearing of drunkards and the sharp laughter of women came from the alleys, and the sound of Sirens rang far away, but they never approached here.
Mio followed the address in the email, turned into an alley full of trash cans, and found the underground bar named “Iron Anchor”.
The heavy iron door was ajar, and noisy rock music and clinking glasses came from inside.