Coulson's casual question as he left was like an invisible needle, piercing precisely into the softest, most unguarded part of Paul's heart.
Dr. Li Lina.
That name was a brand seared into the deepest part of his soul, a forbidden zone he couldn't touch in either of his two lives.
His life as an orphan in his past life had filled him with an unattainable longing for the word "mother." And in this life, he had the name, but all that remained was a blurry memory and a faded photograph.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury… Why would they be interested in a Chinese scientist who had been dead for years?
Paul didn't answer Coulson, only watched him leave in silence.
Returning to his private lab on the top floor of Stark Tower, Paul threw himself heavily into his ergonomic chair. The entire space was so quiet that the only sound was the ceaseless background noise of New York City outside the window.
A long-forgotten, chilling sensation of being watched crept up his spine and spread through his entire body.
He hated this feeling.
Hated having his life placed under the microscope of some vast organization, hated the unknown, hidden eyes lurking in the shadows.
Fury's interest wasn't a whim.
There had to be a secret behind it, something he didn't know.
Paul shot up from the chair, the confusion and unease in his eyes instantly replaced by an almost manic focus.
He rushed to the holographic console, his hands a blur in the air.
"JARVIS, pull up the engine schematics for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Project Insight Helicarrier. All data, highest clearance."
If he couldn't find out their motives, he would use a bargaining chip they couldn't refuse to get what he wanted.
Paul decided to channel all his frustration, anxiety, and fear into the massive project before him.
As long as he could build an engine a generation ahead of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current technology, he would have the upper hand.
For the next full week, Paul practically lived in the laboratory.
The top-floor space became a self-contained kingdom, and he was its only god.
The ethereal blue light of the holographic projections illuminated his young but exceptionally resolute face. Countless complex formulas, 3D schematics, and energy flow simulations flowed around him like a waterfall, reorganizing and iterating.
Magnetic Axis Servo System… Hyper-Thrust Motivator… Distributed Energy Matrix…
These concepts, still theoretical even to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top engineers, were like the most pliable building blocks in Paul's hands, forcibly pieced together with an unimaginable, violent aesthetic.
He abandoned S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clumsy, centralized power supply design, instead constructing an entirely new distributed power system with an incredibly high fault tolerance.
Each engine was an independent unit, yet they could achieve instantaneous synchronization through a quantum entanglement network.
This meant that even if a third of the engines were destroyed, the Helicarrier could still maintain stable flight.
It was a masterpiece that crushed the current era.
When the final module completed its simulation test, the engine model in the hologram emitted a low, steady hum, the ethereal blue energy flowing perfectly within it. Paul leaned back heavily in his chair.
Seven straight days of sleepless, high-intensity work had pushed his body to its limit. His eyes were sunken, his face pale.
But his gaze was astonishingly bright.
It was the satisfaction of a creator who had completed a magnum opus, the arrogance of someone with the world at his feet.
He had done it.
In one week, he had solved a problem that had stumped S.H.I.E.L.D. for six months.
Now, it was time to collect his payment.
Paul picked up an encrypted phone and dialed Coulson's number directly.
The call was answered almost instantly.
"Paul?" Coulson's voice sounded surprised.
"The engine proposal, I've finished it." Paul's voice was raspy with fatigue, but his tone was irrefutable. "It's ready for delivery anytime."
The other end of the line fell into a dead silence that lasted for more than ten seconds.
Coulson even wondered if the recent stress was making him hear things.
One week?
How was that possible?
Nick Fury had given him and Hill's top team a full six months, and they were still wrestling with the engine's stability issues.
And this fourteen-year-old boy was saying he'd finished it in a week?
"…Paul," Coulson's voice was hoarse, each word a struggle. "Are you sure… you're not joking?"
"My time is valuable. I don't have time to joke with you," Paul said, rubbing his throbbing temples. "I've sent you the final designs and all the data. See for yourself. Also, get a jet ready for me. I'm coming to your headquarters."
"To headquarters?" Coulson's mind was struggling to keep up.
"Of course." Paul's tone was matter-of-fact. "The technical data you promised in exchange—I need to review and select it myself. I don't trust anything that's passed through other hands, especially not from you people at S.H.I.E.L.D."
The words were incredibly blunt, but Coulson couldn't refute them.
He hurriedly opened his encrypted terminal. When he saw the design data package Paul had sent—so massive it was almost terrifying—he froze.
The exquisitely ingenious structure, the unheard-of theories, the energy circuits that were nothing short of art…
Just a cursory glance sent a shiver of shock down Coulson's spine.
This wasn't an improvement.
This was a miracle!
"My God…" he murmured, almost unconsciously.
"Finished looking?" Paul's voice came through again. "Is the jet ready? I only have an hour to rest."
"Yes, yes! I'll arrange it immediately! Highest priority!" Coulson's voice had changed completely, now tinged with a mix of awe and excitement, as if facing an unknown power.
This boy wasn't just a genius.
He was a monster! A monster capable of upending the world's technological landscape!
Before hanging up, Paul seemed to remember something, a playful smirk touching his lips.
"By the way, Coulson, you bought my robot, Baymax, right? Could you have him pass a message to my dad? Tell him his genius son is going on a business trip to S.H.I.E.L.D. to save the world, so he shouldn't miss me too much."
Without waiting for Coulson to react, Paul hung up.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, but he couldn't stop the image of Tony Stark's colorful expression upon hearing that news from appearing in his mind.
Sure enough, less than thirty seconds later, JARVIS's gentle voice echoed through the lab.
"Sir, Mr. Stark has a message for you."
"What'd he say?" Paul asked, his eyes still closed.
"Mr. Stark says," JARVIS paused, as if choosing his words carefully, but ultimately relayed the message faithfully, "'Tell that little brat he'd better not try to fly S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier back here. The landing pad at Stark Tower can't fit that big, clumsy thing. Also, tell him to remember to bring back a souvenir. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's sunglasses would be nice.'"
A smile tugged at the corners of Paul's mouth.
That man, always saying the opposite of what he felt.
So obviously worried, yet his pride would never let him admit it.
He stood and walked to the shower. The hot water washed over his body, taking the exhaustion with it, but it couldn't wash away the anticipation and resolve in his heart.
An hour later, a refreshed Paul stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the city below.
An all-black Quinjet, emblazoned with the S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle, hovered silently over the tower's helipad.
Paul took a deep breath, his eyes growing sharp and profound.
S.H.I.E.L.D.…
Fury…
What do you really know about my mother?
He strode toward the helipad with only one thought in his mind.
This time, he wasn't just going to retrieve the technical data that was his due. He was going to pry open S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sealed intelligence archives and find every last clue about Li Lina.
What was truly hidden in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s databases?
The secrets of the Helicarrier, or the truth about… the woman he had only seen in his dreams?
The Quinjet's ramp slowly lowered. Paul stepped aboard, as if stepping into an unknown vortex.
He knew this journey would be far more than a simple technical exchange.
A much larger storm was waiting for him.