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

"Not bad, you caught another one."

Stephen Chow corrected: "It's not about 'fishing,' it's about 'importing.'"

Several people entered the health center through the back door; the lights were still on in the basement.

Jiliu, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, stood up after hearing the noise: "You're back."

His gaze finally settled on the severed arm that Stephen Chow was holding: "Is it too late for me to ask now?"

Stephen Chow put the severed arm in the corner: "Too late. You're in charge of moving it tomorrow."

Rapids: "..."

On the bed, Anton lay with his eyes open.

His face was still pale, but his eyes were bright.

Stephen Chow leaned closer: "How are you feeling?"

Anton thought for a moment: "Like being hit by a train."

"That means the recovery is going well. People who have actually been hit by a train usually don't have the chance to describe their feelings."

"You're the one who saved me?"

"To be precise, it's the person who saved you and is about to arrange a job for you."

Zhou Xingxing pulled up a chair and sat down: "Comrade Anton, let me make this clear to you first. You have some Stryker's messy genetic modifications left in your body, so you're not suitable for work in the short term."

"So I'm initially considering assigning you to an administrative position. Warehouse management, blueprint filing, and logistical registration are all fine. I heard you used to be a librarian?"

Anton paused for a moment, then said, "Yes."

"That's perfect."

Zhou Xingxing slapped his thigh: "Archiver in the data room, your job is a key technical support position."

Anton looked at him.

When he woke up, Jiliu had already recounted what had happened in fits and starts.

Underground laboratory, manhunt, Chinese national, contract, social insurance and housing fund...

Anton initially thought his brother had been beaten and damaged his brain, until he saw Stephen Chow in person and realized that the man was truly insane.

But he was serious about being crazy.

"Am I... really still able to work?"

Anton asked in a low voice.

As he asked the question, he instinctively clenched the hem of his clothes.

He is not a mutant.

I used to be just an ordinary librarian.

I like painting, I like quiet, and my biggest dream is to work at the city library until I retire.

Then one day, a group of people barged into his life, strapped him to the operating table, and stuffed unfamiliar genes and pain into his body.

Stephen Chow looked at him and put away his playful smile.

"able."

Anton lay on the narrow folding bed, his eyes filled with complex emotions. Like someone waking from a nightmare, unsure if they were truly awake.

"Can I... work like this?"

"Of course I can. So, can you categorize them?"

"meeting."

Will it be registered?

"meeting."

"Will they archive all sorts of messy data by number?"

"meeting."

Would you argue with an unreasonable borrower?

Anton paused for a moment: "...Occasionally."

"That would be even better."

Stephen Chow slapped his thigh: "What our unit's archives needs most is a comrade like you who is patient, meticulous, and reasonable."

Jiliu sat on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed: "Stephen, he still has Stryker's stuff inside him."

"So we can't let him be idle. When people are idle, they tend to overthink. Overthinking leads to anxiety. Anxiety leads to gene rejection. Gene rejection leads to light bulb failure. Light bulb failure means we have to pay for it."

Lorna leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, and sneered, "So your main concern is still the light bulb?"

"Light bulbs are also public property."

Stephen Chow raised a finger.

"Comrade Xiao Luo, your thinking is very dangerous. Public property may seem like just a light bulb, but it actually represents the people's right to light. Without lights, how will the night shift workers read the blueprints?"

"What if the bridge piers are built crookedly because I can't see the blueprints? Who's responsible if the bridge piers are crooked? Are you responsible?"

Lorna was speechless for a moment, not knowing how to refute him.

The soft-serve ice cream vendor sat in the corner, clutching his three-dollar ice cream tub, listening in a daze.

Anton suddenly lowered his head.

"But I'm worried I'll lose control, and I don't want to hurt anyone."

They had all witnessed that scene in the underground laboratory.

He can punch a torrent into a wall.

"Relax. At Stryker's, if you lose control, they'll give you a sedative, tie you up, and keep drawing blood."

"If you lose control on the streets of America, SWAT officers will point guns at you, and the news channels will call you a monster the next day."

"Where we're from, if you're not feeling well, you go to the infirmary. If the infirmary can't treat you, you go to the hospital. If the hospital still can't do it, I'll take you to see Leonardo da Vinci. If da Vinci still can't do it, I'll go and cut the power to his lab and force him to come up with a solution."

The snotty-nosed man sniffed in front of the computer: "Da Vinci could swear."

"He may curse, but he still has to do the work."

Stephen Chow stated confidently, "In our company, no one can be arbitrarily scrapped before they sign a retirement contract."

"Talent..."

The word was unfamiliar to Anton; no one had ever called him a talent before.

Jiliu bowed his head, his eyes slightly red.

Stephen Chow glanced at him: "Ah Ji, don't make that face."

Jiliu looked up and rubbed his eyes: "What kind of expression is that?"

"Like someone who owes me 800 yuan and hasn't paid it back."

"..."

"Your brother's follow-up treatment, nutritional meals, resettlement expenses, temporary documents, and international transportation are all costs. You'd better work hard after you return to China."

Jiliu took a deep breath: "I will."

"Don't just talk the talk."

Stephen Chow pulled a stack of papers from the suitcase next to him and slammed them on the table.

"Come on, while we're all awake, let's sign the letter of intent first."

Lorna's eyelids twitched.

"Do you carry the contract with you?"

"What do you mean by 'carry it with you'?" Stephen Chow asked with a displeased look. "This is a confirmation of intent for temporary labor cooperation in the emergency introduction of special overseas talents. It's a temporary contract in short. It's very formal."

The soft-serve ice cream leaned over for a look.

The paper was pieced together from notepads that I'd swiped from some hotel reception desk.

The text above is written in a mix of English and Chinese, with the handwriting being flamboyant and unrestrained.

The first line reads:

I voluntarily agree to travel to China to accept legal labor placement, living security, and job placement. I will not engage in any activities that endanger public safety, damage construction site equipment, arbitrarily remove roofs, or dismantle tower cranes without authorization.

second line:

The company promises to do its best to provide accommodation, wages, social insurance and housing fund, necessary medical assistance, basic language training, and hot meals of no less than those provided by the local construction site canteen.

The third row:

If damage to public property such as steel bars, doors and windows, pipes, vehicles, and public toilets is caused by personal emotional outbursts, compensation or overtime work may be discussed depending on the circumstances.

Lorna's face darkened: "Are you targeting me?"

Stephen Chow said seriously, "No. This clause applies to everyone."

"Then why is there a rule against twisting a colleague's belt buckle into a pretzel?"