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

"So, you're a bureaucratic agent working for the government?"

"You want to capture me and take me to your lab for dissection and research..."

A playing card slipped from between the strategist's fingers: "Or are you planning to implant a bomb in my head and use me as cannon fodder?"

Stephen Chow slapped his forehead, his face filled with disappointment and indignation.

"You kids who grew up under the harsh realities of capitalism, you see everyone as a human trafficker, don't you?"

"The Overseas Special Talent Introduction Office of the 749th Bureau of China. No slicing, no implantation, no human experimentation. We only do one thing! Provide a place where capable people can sleep peacefully."

Zhou Xingxing grabbed the arm of the card king and pulled him to sit down on the sofa, while he took out his rugged phone and opened a photo album.

"Come here, cousin, let me show you what kind of amazing life those Americans consider rats are living in China now!"

He clicked on the first video and held the phone screen right up to the King of Cards' eyes.

The King's pupils contracted slightly.

The screen shows a torrent.

The guy known for his bad temper in the fraternity was wearing a firefighter's uniform and was surrounded by a group of Chinese firefighters around a long table in the canteen.

The braised pork in the stainless steel rice bowl in front of me was piled up like a small mountain.

"What makes you think I'm not acting?"

The King of Cards glanced at Stephen Chow.

"I'm a professional con artist, buddy. Forging videos is a piece of cake."

"Polaris repairing a rocket engine? Green screen effects, post-production compositing—that kind of high-tech visual would only fetch three thousand dollars a day on a Hollywood set."

The King of Cards smiled, took out a cigarette from his pocket, and put it in his mouth.

"As for the 'frogman' receiving an award? These kinds of extras get two hundred dollars a month including meals at the Screen Actors Guild in Los Angeles."

"Then take a look at this." Zhou Xingxing swiped through his phone and brought the screen back to him.

A selfie I posted seven minutes ago.

In the photo, Jiuliu is holding up his phone, with a group of firefighters around a copper pot of mutton hotpot in the background.

He squeezed out an extremely awkward peace sign on his thin face, accompanied by the two Chinese characters he had just learned: "Happy".

The selfie looks unedited.

The location on WeChat Moments is real-time: Huaxia·Beijing·Special Service Fire and Rescue Brigade General Canteen.

Someone replied in Chinese, "Brother Jie, don't just eat, there's a physical fitness test tomorrow," to which Jiliu responded with a long string of angry emojis.

Stephen Chow scrolls to the next page.

This photo was taken by Polaris in a cleanroom laboratory.

She wasn't looking at the camera; she was raising her hand to manipulate the magnetism, suspending a bunch of silver-white parts in mid-air for assembly.

"Even if this is true," Gambit turned off the screen, "what exactly is your government supporting them for?"

"What's the point?"

Stephen Chow slapped his thigh: "That's why I like them – they can get the work done!"

He quickly calculated the accounts on his fingers.

"Jiliu is currently with the Capital Fire Department. Yesterday, during a chemical plant fire, he single-handedly evacuated all the toxic smoke from three floors in just a few minutes, saving 120 people!"

"Polaris helped the space city solve three rocket valve response delay problems. Each valve cost over eight million yuan, directly saving the country 24 million yuan in economic losses!"

"What about the Toad People? Do you know what they're called in Guizhou now?" Zhou Xingxing asked, scrolling through his phone's photo album.

"Master Mo, one of the top ten model workers! The local village secretary gave him some cured meat, but he returned half of it because he thought it was too salty."

"For his birthday, the construction team chipped in to buy him a 12-inch cake with five words squeezed out of strawberry jam on it: 'Master Mo is awesome.'"

"That's impossible!"

"This is impossible..."

He repeated it again, pointing to the big red flower on the toad-man's chest on the screen.

"With his appearance, no matter what country he's in or what job he does, people will only...

"All you do is spit and chase after him calling him a monster, right?"

Stephen Chow put away his phone, his tone turning serious.

"That's your America. Do you think someone there would look like a shoehorn come to life?"

"It's okay. As long as you can drill the anchor holes in the cliff face, the union will still give you soybean oil and Fuji apples for the New Year."

The King of Cards leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling in silence for a long time.

He looked at the suite he was staying in, which cost three thousand dollars a night, and at the dazzling but cold neon night view of Las Vegas outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He knew better than anyone that even though he slept on a high-quality spring mattress, the slightest unusual footsteps in the hallway outside would send him into a panic, fumbling for the playing cards under his pillow.

He was a wealthy playboy, but he didn't even have a home where he could close his eyes and sleep soundly for eight hours.

For some reason, the King's voice became somewhat dry and unsteady.

Even if everything you said is true.

"I'm a professional cheater who specializes in cheating at casinos. My ability is to charge objects and create explosions. You can't exactly ask me to work at your casino, can you? Are casinos even legal where you are?"

Stephen Chow was waiting for this very sentence!

He excitedly snapped his fingers and pulled out a pre-printed bilingual (Chinese and English) letter of intent for labor cooperation, slamming it onto the coffee table.

"Why go work at a casino? We should utilize your core professional strengths, cousin!"

"You mutant bomb-makers can only blow up bank vaults in America, but where we're from..."

"Our country is currently undertaking large-scale infrastructure projects everywhere, building roads through mountains and bridges over rivers. The most troublesome part is dealing with those hard rock layers that require directional blasting."

He patted his chest and gave his assurance.

"Why don't you become our specially appointed chief engineer for directional blasting? Your skills don't require explosives or detonators for detonation; it's completely smokeless and low-carbon, in line with national environmental protection policies. You alone are worth two fully staffed blasting teams!"

The King of Cards looked at the densely packed clauses on the contract, his gaze lingering on the few lines that mentioned weekends off, paid annual leave, and holiday benefits.

"I have a long criminal record, and the police and the FBI here are watching me."

Stephen Chow curled his lip in disdain.

"Where we're from, we value turning over a new leaf and starting anew, and extradition treaties are practically worthless to our talent recruitment office!"

"Once you sign and put your fingerprint on it, you'll be a key protected talent under the protection of our China's major infrastructure construction team. Even if the King of Heaven himself came, he wouldn't be able to cross provincial or national borders to arrest us."

The card master stared at the densely packed terms and conditions, his eyes scanning back and forth over the lines of "accommodation included," "weekends off," and "paid annual leave" three or four times.

He didn't pick up the pen immediately.

As a professional con artist, he began to examine the contracts.

When he sets traps for others, he usually hides them in inconspicuous places.

He spent five minutes flipping through the pages but couldn't find any hidden clauses.

There is no term of service, no compensation traps, and no "final interpretation right belongs to this unit".

He remained silent for a long time before raising his head.

"What guarantees can you offer that these things are true?"

"I've been lying to people for twenty years. What if you're lying to me too?"