American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

"I'll knock on the door."

After saying that, Stephen Chow slid his right hand down to his waist.

Lorna's eyelids trembled.

"Wait, the knocking you mentioned, it can't be—"

A flash of silver light.

With a click.

The wooden door to room 604 is cracked along the lock.

Half of the door panel tilted inward.

It hit the ground with a dull thud, raising a cloud of dust.

The only sound in the room was the voices of people watching a soap opera on the television.

A woman is slumped in the sofa.

She was wearing pink pajamas, her hair haphazardly tied back.

Holding a metal spoon in her left hand and hugging the mint chocolate ice cream tightly in her right.

The three people's eyes met.

"..."

Zhou Xingxing glanced at the woman on the sofa, then looked down at the broken door panel.

"Uh, it's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding!"

"The keyhole had traces of high-temperature melting, which made me think there was an ambush inside."

Stephen Chow sheathed his sword without changing his expression.

"Safety in production is of utmost importance; it is better to make an extra cut than to be negligent in taking precautions for even a second."

The woman finally came to her senses.

"Sister Lorna?"

"It's me, Amy."

She rushed over and hugged Lorna.

"You're alive! Oh my god, I thought you were gone after you were taken away..."

"Where did you go? I looked for you, but all I found were bloodstains and police seals."

"I was locked up by Stryker for a year."

The canned laughter emanating from the television echoed throughout the room.

Stephen Chow stepped forward and pressed the switch.

"I'll watch the soap opera later."

"This plot is so cliché: the male lead has amnesia, the female lead is pregnant, and the doctor is definitely the villain."

Amy looked at Stephen Chow.

"who is he?"

"A madman."

Stephen Chow straightened his tie.

"To be more precise, he is the temporary field officer of the Overseas Special Talent Introduction Office of China."

"He also serves as a human resources consultant for urban and rural infrastructure construction and an expert in pork quality assessment."

"..."

"Don't try to understand; he's always been like this."

"So my door..."

"I'll pay for this."

"real?"

"That's natural."

Stephen Chow took out a pen and paper, wrote a few lines, and handed them over.

"Once I return to China to process the funding approval, the funds will arrive within ninety working days."

Amy picked up the note.

The handwriting above was flamboyant and elegant, and the last signature was Ling Lingqi.

There was also a small note next to it.

Please name the invoice as the Seventh Engineering Team for Urban and Rural Infrastructure Construction.

It's very thoughtful; they used English.

Amy's gaze shifted to Lorna, her tone hesitant.

Are you sure he's not a scammer?

He saved me.

Lorna sat down on the sofa and patted her hand.

"But what's wrong with this door?"

Amy explained the reason in a low voice.

This house has been vacant for a long time.

She had someone she knew melt down the lock and then moved in.

Being short of money and unemployed, I haven't been able to change the locks.

Lorna then briefly recounted her experience in the underground laboratory.

"That's why I came to find you."

Lorna looked directly into her eyes.

"Come with me, let's leave America together."

"Where to?"

"China".

"Are you crazy? I don't even have a passport."

Stephen Chow quickly responded.

"We'll handle the documents."

"We'll take care of the work."

"We've got your accommodation sorted."

"Free meals and accommodation, legal employment contract, and year-end bonus for outstanding performance!"

"What can I do?"

"You've hit the nail on the head."

Stephen Chow pulled out a small notebook.

Please describe your abilities in as much detail as possible.

Amy pouted.

"My nickname is Soft Ice Cream, because my ability is to make ice cream."

Stephen Chow's pen tip slipped.

"Created out of thin air".

The soft-serve ice cream raised its wrist.

A wisp of mist emanated from the palm of his hand, condensing into an ice cream ball within seconds.

"Any flavor is fine."

"Vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, mint, pistachio, caramel sea salt."

She hesitated for a moment, then added.

"We can also make some unusual flavors. Wasabi, kimchi, beer..."

"Once I tried to make a hot pot flavor, and I almost cried from the spiciness."

"So you understand now?"

"I can't fight, I can't fly, and I can't stop bullets."

"At most, I can do odd jobs at an ice cream shop. The only advantage is that the boss won't suspect me of stealing from the warehouse."

Lorna frowned.

"Amy..."

"fine."

The soft-serve ice cream forced a smile.

"I'm used to it."

"Oh, they don't even like eating food produced by mutants."

Stephen Chow slapped his thigh and stood up.

The soft-serve ice cream was startled.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I could let the child—"

"The previous sentence."

"I can't fight?"

"Further ahead."

"Any flavor is fine?"

Stephen Chow's eyes lit up.

What is the production volume per batch?

"What?"

"Hourly output".

"Based on a standard 50-gram ball, how many can be produced at full power?"

"I haven't calculated it."

"Let's calculate now."

Stephen Chow pushed the empty bowl on the table over.

"Come on, vanilla flavor, keep producing for one minute."

The soft-serve ice cream looked at Lorna.

"Do as he says, or he'll be chanting until dawn."

A minute later, three large bowls of ice cream were stacked on the coffee table.

The soft-serve ice cream flicked slightly on her wrist.

A dollop of vanilla ice cream landed in a flowerpot in the corner.

Stephen Chow tosses a metal spoon to estimate its weight.

Slide your phone screen open with one hand and tap the numbers.

"Approximately twelve kilograms per minute."

"Based on a 60% discount to a stable output, the hourly production is 400 kilograms."

"Eight-hour workday, daily output of 3.2 tons."

Stephen Chow spun around twice in the living room.

"Disaster relief supplies, heatstroke prevention and cooling measures, and nutritional supplements for children."

"Visiting and comforting workers on field construction sites, and providing welfare for border outposts."

"Also... could you make a low-sugar, high-protein version?"

The soft-serve ice cream casually chimed in.

"As long as I know the specific taste, that's enough."

"Perfect!"

Stephen Chow clapped his hands.

"Sports nutrition supplements! Overtime meals for workers! Psychological support foods for children in hospital wards!"

"And Old Mo, make him insect protein ice cream."

"The flavors of locusts, crickets, and bee pupae are both high in protein and satisfy his taste."

The soft-serve ice cream's face was a little pale.

"Tastes like locusts?"

Stephen Chow became more and more excited as he spoke.

"Your ability is a revolution in cold chain logistics!"

"Zero carbon emissions, green and environmentally friendly, perfectly in line with the future development trend."

A cacophony of shouts and hurried footsteps echoed from the street below.

Lorna walked to the window.

Seven or eight gang members were blocking the way downstairs.

They had guns, and two other people were carrying gasoline drums.

The soft-serve ice cream that had come over changed its expression.

"It's the Black Snake Gang."

"They collect protection money from this building, and I owe them two months' worth."

Stephen Chow frowned.

"How many?"

"three hundred."

"Dollar?"

The soft-serve ice cream nodded.

"But didn't you say you occupied this place?" Lorna asked, puzzled.

"You have to pay protection money just to occupy a room?"

The soft-serve ice cream sighed.

"There's nothing I can do; they outnumber me. If I don't pay, I won't even have a place to sleep."

"Today, they probably saw strangers coming upstairs and were planning to extort money from them."

"Sorry for dragging you into this."

"You dare to set fire to someone's door for three hundred yuan?"

Stephen Chow looked solemn.

"The grassroots governance of capitalism is rotten to the core."

The three were still inside discussing their options when a scream suddenly came from downstairs.

Lorna walked to the window, full of doubts.

A black armored vehicle was spotted parked next to the pickup truck.

All the thugs from the Black Snake Gang lay in pools of blood.

A man in a gray trench coat stood in the middle.

He spotted the woman looking down.

"Polaris, the tracking chip on your body has not been removed yet."