The midday sunlight slanted in through the glass door, cutting bright patches of light across the restaurant floor.
Shaun Vance opened his bedroom door and padded quietly down the stairs.
Then he paused.
Jessica Jones was already awake, sitting at a dining table by the window.
She was wearing the clothes Shaun had left in the guest room: a plain white T-shirt and grey sweatpants.
They were clearly way too big for her.
The hem of the T-shirt hung down to her thighs, her sleeves had to be rolled up three times just to reveal her wrists, and the legs of the pants bunched on the floor around her feet.
At the sound of his footsteps, she turned her head.
Her young face was still somewhat pale, but her eyes had regained their light.
Right now, though, those eyes were filled with embarrassment and bashfulness.
“You’re…
awake?”
Shaun walked over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge.
“Did you rest well?
Is your wound still hurting?”
“I’ve…
I’ve been awake for a while.”
Jessica lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting with her oversized sleeves.
“Actually…
I woke up at first light.
There was a lot of noise.”
Shaun paused mid-reach for the eggs.
Then he offered a nonchalant smile.
“Sorry.
The soundproofing in this old building isn’t great.”
He turned back around, cracked the eggs, heated the pan, and poured in oil.
The sizzle of oil filled the kitchen, masking the brief silence between them.
After a long pause, Jessica finally plucked up the courage to look up.
“Last night…
was it you who saved me?”
Without looking back, Shaun tossed the pan with one hand, flipping the golden egg mixture in midair.
“If there wasn’t another superhero happening to stroll by last night…”
He turned his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “…then yes, that would be me.”
Jessica couldn’t help but laugh.
But the smile quickly faded, replaced by gravity.
“Thank you,” she said softly, articulating every word clearly.
“I don’t even dare to imagine what would have happened if I’d fallen into that man’s hands…”
She left the sentence unfinished, but her white-knuckled grip on her shirt spoke volumes.
The Purple Man’s ability was far too terrifying.
To be controlled, to lose oneself, to become a puppet…
“It’s over now.”
Shaun plated the tomato egg fried rice into three white porcelain dishes.
“For now, eat.”
He carried the plates toward the dining table.
Just then…
Footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Carl came downstairs.
She was also wearing one of Shaun’s shirts, but in a completely different manner from Jessica.
Only two buttons were done up loosely, the hem barely covering her hips, leaving her long, shapely white legs fully exposed to the air.
Without her black stockings, her bare feet stepped softly onto the wooden floor.
She looked as lazy as a cat that had just woken up.
She tossed her messy blond hair and locked her gaze onto Jessica.
Then she raised an eyebrow.
“Shaun,” Carl’s voice rasped with morning sleepiness, “where did you meet this little sister?
Before I arrived last night…
had you already had a ‘late-night snack’?”
“No, it’s not like that!” Jessica’s face flushed red all the way to her ears, and she waved her hands frantically.
“There’s nothing between us!
He saved me, and I’m just resting here…”
“Eat,” Shaun said, setting a plate of fried rice in front of Carl and pushing another toward Jessica.
“Don’t go scaring the kid.”
Carl shrugged, sat down across from Jessica, and picked up a spoon to dig in.
She was already used to Shaun’s cooking.
For Jessica, however, it was a first.
She scooped a spoonful into her mouth.
And froze.
Her eyes widened, her spoon hovering in midair.
“This…
this is amazing!” she blurted out after finally swallowing, her voice thick with disbelief.
“It’s better than anything I’ve ever had in any restaurant!”
The gore and terror she had experienced at the Purple Man’s restaurant last night were mostly dispelled by the warmth brought by this simple plate of fried rice.
Her stomach felt pleasantly warm, and even her wounds didn’t hurt as much.
“If you like it, feel free to drop by often,” Shaun said, pouring himself a glass of water and taking his seat at the head of the table.
Jessica’s eyes lit up for a second before dimming.
“I’m just a student…
I can’t afford a restaurant like this.”
“As it happens,” Shaun casually offered, “I’m short a part-time waitress.
Six to nine in the evening.
Staff meal included, twenty dollars an hour.
Interested?”
Jessica was stunned.
She looked from Shaun to Carl.
Carl, who had been eating with her head down, looked up and offered her an encouraging smile with a gentle nod.
“Can…
can I really do it?” Jessica asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Come in tomorrow afternoon for a trial,” Shaun said.
“Recover from your injury first, then start officially this weekend.”
“Thank you!
Thank you so much!”
Jessica was so moved that her eyes welled up.
Just then, Carl lightly tapped Shaun’s shin with her toe under the table.
Shaun looked over at her.
Carl blinked at him, her lips curving into a suggestive smile as she gave a subtle shake of her head.
The look in her eyes was unmistakable: *Another cute girl falling into his clutches…
Still, it’s a good thing.
Someone else taking off some of his edge means I can actually work like a normal person.*
Shaun reached under the table, caught her ankle, and caressed the smooth skin with his thumb.
A faint blush touched Carl’s cheeks.
She shot him a glare and pulled her foot back.
Jessica noticed none of these subtle undercurrents.
She was savoring the fried rice bite by bite, treasuring every single spoonful.
Right at that moment, the LCD television on the restaurant wall turned on automatically.
The noon news broadcast began.
The news anchor’s solemn face appeared on the screen:
“We bring you breaking news.
Earlier this morning in eastern Afghanistan, a group of insurgents launched an attack on a local village…”
The video cut to the location.
Yellow sand whirled across a village of mud-brick buildings.
Dozens of armed terrorists were rounding up civilians.
The weapons in their hands clearly bore the Stark Industries logo.
A stubbled, middle-aged man shielded women and children behind him, using his body to block the gun barrels.
The terrorist leader raised a rifle, pressing the barrel against the man’s forehead.
“Stop!” the man shouted.
“They’re innocent!”
“On your knees,” the leader spat in Arabic.
“Or I kill you now, then I kill them.”
The man gritted his teeth, his knees slowly bending.
In that exact instant—
*Vrrroooom—!!!*
A deep, powerful engine roar approached rapidly from the distance, growing louder by the second.
Everyone looked up.
A streak of red-and-gold light cleaved through the sky, diving down at breathtaking speed!
“What is that?!” one of the terrorists shouted in shock.
*BOOM—!*
The red-and-gold armored suit slammed onto the ground, blasting out a ring of sand.
A sleek outer shell, a crimson-and-gold color scheme, and a circular arc reactor emitting a soft blue glow on its chest.
It was Iron Man—the Mark III.
From beneath the helmet’s faceplate, Tony Stark’s voice echoed through the external speakers, carrying a cold, metallic timbre:
“Good morning, scumbags.”
The repulsors fired instantly.
*BANG!
BANG!
BANG!*
The weapons were blasted out of the hands of three terrorists simultaneously, accompanied by the distinct crack of breaking wrist bones.
“Fire!” the leader barked, coming to his senses.
A torrential rain of bullets poured forth.
*CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG—!*
Every bullet pinged harmlessly off the suit’s plating, sparking wildly without leaving behind so much as a scratch.
Iron Man stood his ground, not even bothering to dodge.
“That all you got?”
He raised an arm as the shoulder armor flipped open, revealing rows of micro-missiles.
*Swoosh swoosh swoosh—!*
The missiles trailed smoke as they shot out, striking the weapon crates at the terrorists’ feet with pinpoint precision.
*BOOOM—!!!*
A chain reaction of explosions tore all the Stark Industries weapons to shreds.
The terrorists scattered in panic.
Iron Man stepped forward, the heavy boots of the armor stamping deep indents into the sand.
He walked up to the man who had shielded his family and looked down at him.
“Get them out of here,” he said.
The man froze for a second before snapping out of it, grabbing his wife and daughter, and fleeing.
Only then did Iron Man turn toward the remaining insurgents.
Five seconds.
It took a mere five seconds.
Every single enemy left standing hit the dirt—either decapitated or blown to pieces.
Finally, Iron Man walked up to the camera.
It was a camera set up earlier by the terrorists to livestream their execution.
The light strips at the eyes of his faceplate flared slightly, as if looking directly at the viewers on the other side of the screen.
Then he raised a repulsor, aiming it straight at the lens.
“Tell your boss,” Tony’s voice boomed through the suit, icy and arrogant, “from now on, Stark Industries weapons are only used to take out the trash.”
*BZZZT—!*
The repulsor fired, turning the screen instantly black.
The news broadcast cut back to the studio.
The anchor looked visibly shaken, clearly struggling to recover from the shocking footage she had just witnessed.
Inside the restaurant, dead silence reigned.
Jessica’s spoon clattered onto her plate with a sharp chime.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape, and it took a long moment before she managed to squeeze out words: “Was that…
a robot?
A superhero?
Oh my God…”
Carl, meanwhile, looked thoughtful.
“Stark Industries’ technology has reached this level?
Tony Stark shut down the weapons division just a few weeks ago, and he’s already built something like this?”
She glanced at Shaun with an inquiring look.
Shaun took a leisurely sip of water, a faint glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
The Mark armor had officially made its public debut.
The timeline was beginning to gallop off its tracks.
The news report continued, with the anchor reading a vague statement from a military spokesman alongside an emergency PR release from Obadiah Stane.
However, none of the three people in the restaurant were paying attention anymore.
“Um…” Jessica broke the silence in a soft voice.
“Can I come tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock sharply?”
Shaun nodded.
“Sure.
A spare key is in the counter drawer; I’ll leave it for you.
Focus on healing first.”
Jessica nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling.
Carl stood up.
“I need to change for work.”
She walked over to the large full-length mirror in the restaurant and reached her hand straight into the glass surface.
The surface rippled like water.
She pulled out a paper bag containing her business suit and high heels.
Carl gave Jessica a smile and walked into the bathroom to change.
A few minutes later, she stepped out dressed in a sharp black skirt suit with her blond hair pinned up, back to her appearance as an elite investment banker.
As she walked past Shaun, however, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, her voice meant for his ears alone:
“Be gentle with her…
at least don’t leave her unable to get out of bed on her first day.”
Shaun gave her backside a slap.
“Mind your own business.”
Carl gave a soft huff and pushed open the door to leave.
The bell on the glass door chimed.
Only Shaun and Jessica were left in the restaurant.
Jessica stood up, acting somewhat stiff.
“Well…
should I head back too?
I live in Brooklyn, so I need to take the subway…”
“I’ll drive you,” Shaun said, picking up his car keys.
“You’re injured, don’t go cramming into the subway.”
“No, no, that’s fine!” Jessica quickly waved her hands.
“It’s too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Shaun was already walking toward the back door, where a black Audi A8 was parked.
He had bought it with the profits made from Tony’s stocks.
Jessica had no choice but to follow.
Sitting inside the car with her seatbelt buckled, Jessica silently watched the streetscape race backward past her window.
After a moment, she said softly, “I’ll work hard.”
Shaun offered a simple “Mm.”
“And…” Jessica turned to look at him, her gaze earnest.
“About last night, I won’t tell anyone.
Including who you are…
and those abilities.”
Shaun smiled.
“Smart girl.”
The car pulled into Brooklyn, pulling up in front of an old apartment building.
Jessica got out, stood by the curb, and waved goodbye to Shaun.
She only turned to go upstairs after the car disappeared around the corner.
Back inside her small but tidy apartment, Jessica leaned against the door and let out a long breath.
She walked up to the mirror and looked at her reflection.
A pale face, dark circles under her eyes, and still wearing Shaun’s baggy white T-shirt.
But there was a spark in her eyes.
She gently touched the bandaged wound on her chest, a smile slowly curling her lips.
She was safe.
She had a job.
And…
that mysterious, powerful Chinese restaurant owner.
Jessica walked over to the window and looked toward Manhattan.
In the distance, the spire of Stark Tower gleamed brightly under the sunlight.
After buying the day’s ingredients, Shaun drove his car back to the restaurant’s backyard.
A pale blue light screen unfolded before his eyes:
[Worldline Fluctuation Rate: 35% → 38%] (Iron Man’s public operation triggered global attention and alerted various factions)
[Notice: Death of Purple Man; the fate trajectories of related individuals such as Daredevil, Luke Cage, and the Punisher have shifted.]
Shaun closed the screen, a smirk touching his lips.
“Only thirty-eight percent?” he muttered softly to himself.
“Looks like it can get a whole lot messier.”