Watching Rhodey desperately splash and chase after the girls—a frantic effort to prove his heterosexuality—Zhou Yi could only shake his head with a touch of veteran disappointment. As someone deeply entrenched in the playboy scene, Zhou Yi knew Rhodey was too naive.
This wasn't college; these girls were calculated opportunists, all aiming for the blinding lights and colossal paychecks of Hollywood. A mere U.S. Army Colonel, even a well-placed one, simply couldn't compete with the magnetic pull of two genuine billionaires like Tony and himself.
Besides, setting aside the financial calculus, Rhodey, being "as black as charcoal," as Zhou Yi internally observed, lacked the perceived advantages often attributed to different racial groups in this specific, appearance-driven environment.
When assessing the trio's overall appeal, the factors were surprisingly balanced:
Looks: With European, Asian, and African races all represented, preferences were subjective. Zhou Yi, however, had the height advantage, standing at 193 centimeters, easily crushing both Rhodey and Tony.
Temperament: Rhodey, the seasoned Colonel, possessed a stern, commanding aura, which could attract some. Tony was the witty, humorous inventor, full of cynical mischief. Zhou Yi was sunny, unrestrained, and radiated an untamed freedom. They were roughly equal here.
Physique: Rhodey, the standard U.S. soldier, was robust. Tony, the lab rat, was noticeably weaker, despite his boxing practice. Zhou Yi's natural physique was deemed perfect among humans, superior to both.
Ultimately, all charm and muscle were immediately rendered irrelevant by the sheer tonnage of the yacht—the true "wallet" factor. Tony Stark was far too clever to bet on anything he couldn't win.
Rhodey, despite his desperate flailing, likely understood this and was just trying to amuse himself. Zhou Yi and Tony left him to his entertainment. They settled back on the deck chairs to resume their discussion.
"Alright, show me your hand. I honestly doubt you cooked up anything worthwhile." Tony's arrogance was vintage; in scientific research, he had earned the right to be condescending.
Zhou Yi, accustomed to the inventor's hubris, raised an eyebrow and tossed over a sleek, black object resembling an electronic watch.
Tony snatched it, inspecting it against the sun. "I gotta say, pal. You have impeccable taste. I dig the style of this watch. But you're not planning to jump into the luxury goods market, are you? Because if you are, you should start by seeding all your most influential pals, like me."
Zhou Yi suppressed the urge to strike him. "Can you give your mouth a rest for five minutes? I'm legitimately concerned you'll hit early menopause."
"Dream on!" Tony cut short his complaining, expertly fastened the watch, and activated its internal mechanism.
A layer of fine, silvery nanometal immediately flowed out, covering his entire body like mercury, enveloping everything below his head. Once fully deployed, the metallic film became virtually transparent, almost undetectable to the naked eye.
"Active nanometal? You've actually got a finished product?" Tony asked, surprised. He knew of Zhou Yi's research but not the imminent success.
"It's Holographic Mimicry nanometal," Zhou Yi explained. "It can shrug off direct hits from large-caliber sniper rounds. It's less than one-thousandth of a millimeter thin, so it won't interfere with your skin's normal thermal regulation or sweat. It also manages your health metrics and can instantly perform holographic mimicry when things get ugly. I only installed the basic activation. The detailed operating system is for you to figure out."
Zhou Yi knew better than to present Tony with a complete, locked system. Giving him the basic framework ensured Tony would immediately tear it apart and customize it—a much better use of his time than dealing with customer service.
Tony gave a barely perceptible nod, clearly intrigued by this device that contained technology at least half a century ahead of anything currently available. True to form, however, he couldn't concede defeat.
"This is all you got? Honestly, if I had my hands on this, I could easily boost the defensive rating by forty percent and load it with some genuinely useful offensive capabilities. But, look, it's passable. As a bartering chip for an old display piece, I guess it'll do."
Zhou Yi involuntarily ground his teeth. He hadn't given Tony the suit just for a measly 20 pounds of Adamantium; he'd given it to save his friend's life, knowing the risks Tony was about to take as Iron Man.
Zhou Yi extended his fist, clenching his fingers until the joints cracked loudly. He spoke in a voice that was eerily calm: "Old pal, can I punch you really hard?"
Tony immediately recoiled. "Old pal, can I pay Hogan to take that punch for me?"
The conversation was mercifully cut short. Tony, his mood genuinely uplifted by the unexpected tech gift, contacted Hogan to send the prepared Adamantium over.
The two friends then happily discussed company profits while enjoying the lively spectacle of bikini-clad beauties. The moment of serenity was shattered when Rhodey executed a massive cannonball dive, completely drenching Tony.
"Hey, buddies! We're not here for a board meeting; we're here to party! Don't keep the ladies waiting." Rhodey, the newly self-appointed captain of fun, shouted before disappearing into a swarm of women upon resurfacing.
Tony, dripping wet but completely uninjured, gave Zhou Yi a knowing look. Zhou Yi wisely stepped back.
Tony lived up to expectations. He ripped off his own shirt, jumped into the pool in his trunks, and yelled to the girls, "Alright, ladies! Whoever helps hold that goofball down gets a piece of custom jewelry from me! Everyone who joins in gets a share!"
Rhodey, the instigator, immediately found himself hopelessly overpowered by a throng of curvaceous bodies. He was enjoying the sensation of beautiful women clinging to him while simultaneously being slowly, deliberately drowned—a truly memorable, though lethal, experience.
Zhou Yi, seeing no upside in joining that chaotic melee, retreated to the cabin. He found a sea rod and fishing gear from the storage area and set himself up comfortably on the deck. He intended to spend the time relaxing, simultaneously demonstrating to Rhodey that, as a friend, he had provided the maximum possible support and now the rest was up to him.
He cast his line and settled back into the beach chair. The day was still young; the real fun was always reserved for the night. Drifting into a half-sleep under the sun, Zhou Yi rested.
Meanwhile, miles away, in the labyrinthine network of abandoned subway tunnels beneath New York, groups of homeless people wandered aimlessly. It was a common sight in this glamorous international metropolis: the extreme wealth of men like Zhou Yi and Tony contrasted sharply with the desperation of those searching garbage bins for a bite to eat.
These abandoned, sealed tunnels served as natural, if grim, sanctuaries.
In one particular stretch, a line of over a dozen homeless individuals was loosely forming. They weren't wandering; they were being screened by several neatly dressed men who then directed them deeper into the shadows.
The fact that the occasional person emerging from the inner rooms clutched wads of cash and chuckled softly, revealing sparse, rotten teeth, suggested that this wasn't a lethal operation—merely a dubious one.
"Hey, brother, looks like you're new to this gig." A skinny homeless man waiting in line patted the shoulder of the tall person seated in front of him, striking up a conversation.
The person was wearing a tattered trench coat and a hood. He slowly turned his head, revealing a countenance that was unsettlingly unique. His face was unnaturally pale, as if he lived only in perpetual darkness.
There was no hair anywhere—no beard, no eyebrows, no discernible hairline. His pupils were indistinct in the dim light, perhaps a shade of gray-blue. Most strikingly, his chin bore the distinct scar of a perfectly healed laceration, suggesting major surgical intervention.
To the cynical homeless man, this odd appearance didn't scream "monster," but "severe illness." He felt a sense of pity.
The tall man's gaze flickered in response to the sympathy. He then managed a slight, dry cough and spoke from a throat that sounded parched:
"Yeah. My first time down here for this kind of work."