Old Wang and Seven Men

Time rewound ten minutes.

"Robbie has been investigating a blind organization lately. It seems to be involved in manufacturing and trafficking drugs."

As Skye browsed online shopping pages, bookmarking anything she liked, she said absentmindedly, "That blind organization is in Hell’s Kitchen up north. They’re all Eastern faces—your compatriots."

Blind people, drugs, Hell’s Kitchen, Easterners… Old Wang more or less knew who they were. He nodded. "Open the door. Keep the shop open."

Skye hurried over to open the door.

It was already evening, and since Old Wang had just closed up, there weren’t many people around.

Old Wang rubbed his stomach. It was so hungry it was no longer as round. How could this do? It was an insult to his Pandaren identity from his past life. How could the mighty Great Dragon Hero go hungry? Had the Qing dynasty fallen, or had the empire run out of food?

"Go to Old Li’s two streets over and buy two servings of bamboo shoot braised pork over rice. Then go to the bun shop at the east end of the street and get ten big buns with dried bamboo shoot filling."

Old Wang glanced at Skye’s still-open computer. More than a dozen pages were open, and one of the searches was actually for cosmetics. A whole set for ninety-nine, shipping not included…

This girl had actually learned how to dress up?

Before, she was doing well if she even washed her face. Now her standards had improved this much.

Sure enough, money was a demon. It led people astray.

"You really can eat," Skye muttered. She shut the computer, dug a few bills out of the drawer, and headed out.

Old Wang casually grabbed a bottle of Bamboo Leaf Green, moved his recliner to the doorway, and settled into a more comfortable position.

A general could not be without a horse; a panda could not be without wine.

His body was human, but his habits were Pandaren. Old Wang’s love of alcohol had been cultivated when he was three years old in his first life. Tempered by more than twenty years on Earth, brewed for ten years in World of Warcraft, and fermented for eighteen years in Marvel World, it had long since taken root deep within him.

Many of a Monk’s skills required alcohol to use.

For others, drinking was a hobby.

For Old Wang, drinking was a necessity.

Fragrant wine beneath the glow of the setting sun had a flavor all its own.

If things could always stay like this, that would be nice.

Unfortunately, there were always people who wanted to shatter this rare bit of beauty.

Somewhat heavy footsteps sounded. Old Wang took a sip of wine, as calm as ever.

"Hey, boss, got any medicinal wine? The kind every man needs."

Seven men surrounded Old Wang. Their trench coats, clearly unsuited to the temperature, concealed their sturdy bodies, as well as the bulletproof vests, pistols, and tactical knives strapped to them. One of them walked straight to Old Wang’s left. His gaunt face looked as though it had been carved by blades of wind, and raw masculine vigor radiated from him. This man was no simple figure.

A pistol, hidden beneath his clothing, pressed against Old Wang’s lower back. The man lowered his voice. "The kind Black Widow bought. Hand over all of it if you don’t want to die!"

"Yes."

Feeling the hard object against his lower back, Old Wang remained expressionless. He slowly rose and, surrounded by five burly men, walked inside.

The other two men shut the door, sealing off the inside from the outside.

As though separating two worlds.

Skye had not actually gone far. Then she suddenly remembered that she had not asked Old Wang what soup he wanted: yellow croaker soup with winter bamboo shoots and pickled greens, or pork rib and egg soup with spring bamboo shoots.

Old Wang was actually easygoing about most things. He did not care much about anything except two things:

One was what he drank, and the other was what he ate.

Old Wang liked wine, congee, and soup. As for soup, bamboo shoot soup was best, and winter bamboo shoots had to be distinguished from spring bamboo shoots.

Needlessly picky.

Old Wang was actually quite capable of making money, but most of it went toward food and drink. He always said, "No matter how poor you are, don’t shortchange your stomach; no matter how hard life is, don’t make your belly suffer." So after living alone for several years, he still had not saved any money.

Skye knew this well, so she came back to ask him properly.

But the moment she turned around, she saw seven burly men ushering Old Wang into the shop and closing the door.

"Wang has that kind of hobby?"

Skye’s expression turned strange. "Isn’t this a little too wild? Can he take it?"

Old Wang definitely would not be in danger. Skye was not worried at all.

Every one of those seven men was powerfully built and around six foot two. There were American-looking faces, a bearded Russian, white men, and Black men.

It was not even fully dark yet. Did they have to be this open about it?

But on second thought, Old Wang probably really could take it.

With a kung fu master’s physical condition, he could smash stones on his chest when he was short on money.

Skye still remembered discussing ways to prepare winter bamboo shoots with Old Wang in the truck once. He had been tired and sleepy, so he had not left. Then in the middle of the night, something woke her up. It was pressing into her uncomfortably.

Seven men… Wang should be able to handle them, right?

Wait…

Why am I even thinking about this?

This isn’t the fucking point!

Skye hurried back at a jog.

But as soon as she reached the door, she heard heavy panting from inside, along with creaking sounds, as if a bed had collapsed.

Something was wrong!

There was no bed in the little shop, only the floor and shelves. Wang, were you really that desperate?

No, Old Wang’s sexual orientation had to be corrected!

Skye raised her leg, ready to kick the door open.

Then suddenly,

The panting continued,

But the shaking stopped.

"That fast?"

Skye froze. "How long has it even been? Thirty seconds?"

Probably not.

From the moment the door closed until now, it had been twenty-five seconds at most.

With seven people, that meant less than four seconds each?

Wait, that did not seem to be how the math worked…

Skye’s expression changed, and she turned to leave.

Forget it. She would leave Old Wang some dignity. Later, she would use practical action to correct his orientation.

Such a fine young man could not be allowed to go bent!

Just as she took her first step, a calm voice rang out. "Perfect timing. Come in and help."

Skye was startled, and also hesitant. "Wang, um… weren’t you all finished already? Besides, there are eight men and I’m one woman. What can I possibly help with…"

Wang, what are you trying to do?

That was too much!

Old Wang said blandly, "What you’re best at. Tying people up."

Half an hour later.

Night had fallen completely.

A car stopped in front of the Azeroth Specialties Shop.

The car door opened, and a long black-clad leg extended at an angle. Natasha, her waist simply bandaged, twisted her hips as she walked to the door.

Hawkeye followed close behind. His eagle-sharp eyes constantly swept over the surroundings, maintaining vigilance at all times.

Looking at the closed door, Natasha hesitated for two seconds before raising her hand to knock.

"The door isn’t locked."

A somewhat muffled voice sounded. Natasha recognized Master Wang’s voice, and the weight in her heart finally lifted. Her expression relaxed as she turned and waved her hand.

Hawkeye hesitated.

The phone call had said everything was fine, but who knew what the actual situation was?

Maybe that Master Wang had been controlled by Hydra, who were using him to lure S.H.I.E.L.D. agents inside, where an ambush was waiting?

They could not let their guard down!

Hawkeye shook his head ever so slightly and drew his bow, nocking an arrow.

Natasha wavered.

That was true.

Master Wang might be a kung fu master, but he could not block bullets. A well-trained ace sniper could take down any so-called kung fu master with a single shot.

Since Hydra had acted, how could Master Wang possibly be unharmed?

This was very likely a trap!

Natasha gave Hawkeye a look.

Hawkeye blinked. Understood.

Several Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. took up advantageous positions, weapons in hand, prepared for battle.

Bang!

Natasha suddenly kicked the shop door open. She immediately struck a ready stance, holding specially made S.H.I.E.L.D. pistols in both hands, prepared to fire at any moment.

Wait…

What was going on?

Seven burly men had been tied into a pile with ropes that were not particularly thick. The knots were clearly unprofessional, yet not one of the men resisted. That was strange.

Looking more closely, every man had some inexplicable object stuffed into his mouth, leaving them able to make only muffled whimpering sounds. They could not shout loudly at all.

Their bulletproof vests, pistols, tactical knives, and the like had been piled to one side. They were all premium Stark Industries products.

Even stranger, their hands and feet were twisted in ways that should have been absolutely impossible. It seemed they had been…

Dislocated?

"Master Wang, they…"

Natasha suddenly felt that she might have underestimated this slightly chubby kung fu master.

"As you can see, I dislocated their hands and feet and plugged their mouths to keep them from killing themselves."

Old Wang lay in his chair, looking up at Natasha as she approached. He felt as if her entire body was glowing, as though he were looking at a pile of glittering gold coins. "I helped you capture seven Hydra agents. How much are you planning to pay me… Also, you kicked in my hardened Kryptonite magic door. How do you plan to compensate me?"

Thanks to "Li Xian of World of Warcraft" for the 1,000 tip, "Ziyuan882" for the 100 tip, and "Zhuangzi Dreaming of Butterflies" for the 200 tip!