Who is Hong Fei? A man who lives to eat. European cuisine might not be his favorite, but since he was already abroad, he figured he might as well sample something new. These days, aside from delivering goods, he spent most of his time wandering and indulging his appetite. More than half a month later, he found himself barefoot on a northern Spanish beach.
The waves lapped at the gravel beneath his feet as he strolled, phone pressed to his ear. "I saw the video," he said. "Well done. Your year-end bonus will be doubled."
Frank responded dryly, "Don't ask me next time."
Hong Fei chuckled. "Look at you, so distant. That video wasn't my design—it was pure coincidence. I didn't expect anyone to be foolish enough to film in a life-or-death moment." He paused, then laughed heartily. "You know what this is called? Destiny is on my side!"
"I don't follow," Frank replied flatly. "But what's the point of arranging it like this? They'll figure out sooner or later that The Hand has nothing to do with these incidents."
Hong Fei's smile faded. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "First, we have to admit that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scale and resources far surpass ours. Their investigation into me might not yield results immediately, but over time, it's hard to say. The more I do, the more motives and traces they'll uncover. So, the best solution is to offer them a scapegoat. The Hand is peculiar—not massive, but certainly not small. They possess secrets strange enough to pique Nick Fury's interest.
And given his position, he's desperate for a culprit right now. Whether it's true or not, he'll deal with it first."
He paused, letting the waves fill the silence. "The video is just an introduction; the truth doesn't matter. The key is to give him a stepping stone. Instead of wasting time on me, he can focus on a specific organized crime group. This isn't a multiple-choice question. S.H.I.E.L.D. should target large criminal organizations like The Hand instead of obsessing over one person. Making Master Hong look like a villain is simply outrageous!"
Frank's tone shifted slightly. "Why do I feel like you know Nick Fury intimately?"
Hong Fei grinned. "Absolutely. I know him better than his own father!"
Frank was silent for a few seconds before asking, "You've always wanted those leaders of The Hand. Aren't you afraid they'll get caught?"
"What's there to fear? We'll just snatch them back. We've done it before, haven't we?"
Frank sighed. "...Forget it. Go on."
Hong Fei continued, "Second, we need time. When S.H.I.E.L.D. faces The Hand, they might seem to have the upper hand, but The Hand isn't powerless. Their conflict won't end quickly, and that's our opportunity. Just because we can't beat them now doesn't mean we won't later. Things are always changing. Maybe next time, I'll take you straight into Nick Fury's lair."
Frank cut in sharply, "I'm not going!"
"Alright, we'll discuss that later. I don't expect The Hand to overthrow S.H.I.E.L.D.; they just need to hold out for another year. That's enough."
Finally, even if he continues to investigate, it doesn't matter. If we get caught, so be it. When conditions allow, we buy time; when they don't, we grab guns and knives and charge straight in. Always be prepared for both scenarios. What do you think?"
Frank groaned. "I don't think much of it! What do you mean by a year? What are you planning now?"
Hong Fei's voice turned cryptic. "You'll know when the time comes."
Frank sighed and rubbed his temple. "Alright, your plans usually work out. Hope this one does too. I'm flying to Sokovia tomorrow—nothing left for me in New York."
"Hmm, I'll handle things on that end." Hong Fei paused. "When's that guy arriving?"
"Today. Should be any minute now. Just wait." Without another word, Frank ended the call.
The man Hong Fei had asked about was their longtime arms supplier. Whether in New York or Tokyo, he always delivered. Hong Fei kept walking along the beach until he sensed someone approaching—their stare boring into him. He glanced up.
A middle-aged man with black hair and pale skin stood there, grinning like one of those overeager salesmen who ambush you on the street. The moment their eyes met, the man threw his arms wide and let out a booming laugh. Definitely him. But why did that face seem so familiar?
"My friend! My most esteemed guest! My generous patron!" The man seized Hong Fei's hand, then pulled him into a crushing bear hug, slapping his back like an old comrade. When he finally let go, he beamed. "Wow, solid build! No wonder Frank always says you prefer the heavy-duty stuff, eh?"
Hong Fei's cheek twitched. He gave a stiff nod. The guy's over-the-top friendliness would've made him a natural at selling timeshares.
Throwing an arm around Hong Fei's shoulders, the man gestured toward the water. "Dear comrade, how about we take a seat on that little beauty?"
Hong Fei followed his gaze to a gleaming white yacht. He played along as they turned toward the harbor, the yacht smoothly docking as they approached. Once aboard, the engines roared to life, cutting through the waves.
On deck, the man's theatrical grin softened slightly. He extended a hand. "Yuri Orlov."
Hong Fei shook it. "Hong Fei."
"I know who you are. Please, sit." Yuri poured two glasses of champagne, handing one over. "Truth is, I've heard about your work. That big move you pulled? Something I once dreamed of doing but never could. So—thank you." Their glasses clinked.
Setting his drink down, Yuri leaned in. "Relax—no client of mine ever gets exposed. Not even if they bought a single bullet. My father taught me that rule. I'd die before breaking it."
"Your father?"
"Yuri Orlov. Same name." Hong Fei's eyebrow lifted. Father and son sharing a name?
Yuri laughed. "I see your confusion. Yes, we carry the same name. When I die, my son will too. That way, the world knows—doing business with Yuri Orlov means safety. Reliability."
Hong Fei nodded. "Smart."
Yuri beamed. "Glad you think so. Honestly? I've been itching to meet you. Sick of peddling rifles. Got artillery in storage gathering rust."
Hong Fei's eyes lit up immediately: "So, you have quite a few good things?"
"Of course! Even if I don't stock it, just name what you want—I'll get it." Yuri passed him a tablet. "Take your time browsing. Whatever catches your eye? Twenty percent off."
Hong Fei studied the screen, his fingers scrolling slowly.
His moods shifted like sunlight through leaves—one moment grinning with delight, the next frowning tight-lipped in concentration. After a prolonged silence, he handed the tablet back to Yuri. "I've marked a few. Take a look."
Yuri studied the selections with meticulous care, murmuring as he scanned each entry. "Solid choices. This one packs serious firepower, that one's got impressive range..." He nodded approvingly. "They're all excellent pieces. Truly top-tier!"
Who knew that Hong Fei would shake his head repeatedly upon hearing this? A wry smile tugged at his lips. "You've got it backwards. I want everything except the marked ones—every last item."