Ronan stopped dead in his tracks.
Well, well—he knew it. Wong dragging him out today meant something was up.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have been nagging nonstop.
"So, all that whining about me showing up late was just you setting me up for this, huh?"
Ronan shot Wong a look dripping with disdain.
The old "tear 'em down, then build 'em up" trick? He'd been pulling that move for years.
"No way!"
"You were late, plain and simple—nothing to do with this."
Wong shot back, all righteous indignation.
Translation: he wasn't admitting squat.
"So, does that mean I can just say no to this favor?"
Ronan smirked. If Wong was gonna play hardball, then he wasn't helping.
But Wong just shrugged, nodding toward the front.
"Actually, it's not my thing—it's Nico's."
"In Eastern terms, you're about to 'take someone's hand and eat their food,' so you'll owe her."
Wong flashed a smug grin.
Ronan twitched his mouth and fired back with a classic, globally recognized "hello" gesture.
No way he'd ditch Nico—not after all those meals he ate here as a kid.
No guess needed—Wong totally set this up!
"Nico's thing? Of course I'll help."
"But you gotta tell me—what's it about?"
Ronan sighed. Why did every meetup with Wong feel like a prelude to some bad news?
Huh?
Why did that line sound so familiar?
"Better let Nico fill you in."
"For most people, it might be a real pain."
"But for you? It's a snap of the fingers."
Wong grinned, slinging an arm around Ronan's shoulders like they were best buds.
Even though, age-wise, Wong could easily be his uncle.
Ronan rolled his eyes. He figured the simpler it sounded, the trickier it might get.
"Here's hoping it's as easy as you say."
With that out of the way, they switched to small talk.
Soon, the group rolled up to a restaurant that didn't exactly scream "high-end."
It wasn't some grimy hole-in-the-wall, but it wasn't a glitzy, over-the-top hotel either.
Still, Ronan was into it.
"Not bad—you guys picked *this* place?"
Ronan eyed the modest joint, nodding approvingly.
Hong Kong's packed—land's scarce, every inch worth its weight in gold.
The business district looks flashy, sure, but most spots are cramped as hell.
In his past life, Ronan visited once—just once—and it shattered years of rose-tinted goggles.
Hong Kong folks living in "pigeon cages"? Who'd have thought?
Over the years, though, he'd gotten used to it.
So why was he so pleased?
Simple—he was dreading Nico and Wong dragging them to some fancy hotel.
Those places look swanky, but the food? Can't touch the decades-old hole-in-the-walls.
This spot might not top some tiny dives in flavor, but it nailed the balance of vibe and taste.
"Those tourist-trap joints? No way I'd take you there."
"I hear it's Gwen's first time in Hong Kong—she's gotta taste the real deal."
Nico's first half was in Cantonese, the second in English.
Subconsciously, she already saw Ronan as one of them.
That "tourist-trap" bit—translated, it's a tad rude—so she stuck to Cantonese.
Gwen Stacy glanced at Ronan, curious.
"Don't look at me—Nico said she's not taking us to rip-off spots."
"Every country's got 'em. Totally normal."
Ronan grinned, translating the first half for Gwen with a little polish.
Hearing that, Gwen cracked a knowing smile.
Who says America doesn't fleece foreigners?
Oh, it does—a ton!
As they stepped inside, the owner hustled out, greeting them with warm vibes.
Clearly, he and Nico were tight.
Bet the owner lady never dreamed her daily tea regulars included a mage slinging weird spells.
No need for her to lead—Nico took them straight to a second-floor private room.
It wasn't decked out in luxury, but it was spotless.
You could tell the owner was a clean freak.
"Their food might not beat some tiny joints."
"But cleanliness? That's its other big win."
Nico started breaking down the menu for Gwen Stacy.
Meanwhile, Wong nudged Ronan with an elbow.
"You move fast, huh? Few months back, you were swearing up and down single life's the best."
"Now look—slapping yourself in the face yet?"
Wong was one smirk away from full-on mockery.
He still remembered Ronan's smug face when his own relationship slipped out.
Even used it as leverage to scam a pile of cash off him!
Unforgivable!
"You wouldn't get it—I'm young, my mind flips quick. Normal stuff."
"Maybe you've lost that youthful fire and drive, so just chill and take it easy."
"I'll even hook you up with some old-school Eastern healer recipes if you're nice."
Ronan patted Wong's shoulder, giving him a pitying look.
Real talk—no guy can stomach that stare.
"I'm in prime shape!"
Wong thumped his chest for emphasis.
The move and the sound naturally caught the ladies' eyes across the table.
Both were curious—what were Ronan and Wong yapping about?
But the topic was a bit awkward. Wong flashed an apologetic grin, then glared at Ronan.
"Besides, even if I needed it, I wouldn't take your recipes."
"Where are we? Hong Kong, Eastern Country."
"Best old-school healers? Right here."
"If *you* need 'em, I could recommend a few."
Wong shot Ronan a look, firing back without flinching.
Ronan just shrugged—he wasn't even gonna dignify that with a reply.
Wong's quick comeback? Dead giveaway he's hiding *something*.
As a good pal, Ronan let it slide.
As for him?
Heh, he's in a man's prime years!
Topic dropped, the dishes started rolling out one by one.
Most folks peg Cantonese food as dumplings or buns—shrimp dumplings, char siu bao, that kinda thing.
Or maybe roast duck, poached chicken.
But truth is, Cantonese cooking's way deeper than that.
Even if Ronan wasn't from a Cantonese area last life, as a foodie, he knew his stuff.
Since they were all family here, he told Gwen Stacy to dig in—no need to hold back.
Seeing the other three wielding chopsticks, Gwen wanted a go.
She fumbled a bit at first, but with Ronan's pointers, she got the hang of it.
Just ate slower—no big deal.
"Wishing you wealth, wishing you glory…"
Mid-meal, Ronan's phone blared to life.
All three pairs of eyes swung to him.
"It's New Year—gotta keep it festive, right?"
Ronan wiped his mouth calmly, pulled out his phone, and saw an unknown number.
Instinct kicked in—he hung up.
Unknown caller? Nope. Anti-scam 101!
Verizon and AT&T gave him a mental thumbs-up.
But before he could grab his chopsticks again, the phone rang once more.
This time, the caller swapped out—for the big, dumb… *cough*—hero, Tony Stark.
"Hey, Boss Stark—calling to cover my medical bills?"
Ronan answered, casually popping a shrimp dumpling in his mouth.
It made his voice sound all muffled and weird.
"What medical bills?"
"And what are you doing? Why's your voice so off?"
Tony Stark's confused tone crackled through.
"Never mind what I'm doing."
"Spit it out—don't hold up my lunch."
Ronan swallowed the dumpling, waving at the others to keep eating.
They all knew "Boss Stark" meant Tony Stark.
In Ronan's words: a bit of an idiot, but a loaded friend.
"Lunch?"
"Lunch at this hour? What, you mages live upside-down?"
Tony Stark peeked at the wall clock, then out the window, double-checking the time.
"I'm in the M78 Nebula right now, smacking down evil wizards."
"Just took out one trying to summon a dark god—so what's wrong with grabbing some lunch?"
Ronan bullshitted on the fly.
Who knows who's with Stark? He wasn't spilling his location.
"F*ck!"
"Can you talk straight for once? What's this M78 Nebula crap?"
"Since when can my phones call across planets?"
Tony Stark wasn't buying Ronan's nonsense.
"Alright, alright—what's up?"
"I'm busy here."
Ronan dodged Stark's jab, steering the convo elsewhere.
Tony Stark dared call the M78 Nebula crap?
Heh, just wait!
If a parallel universe pops up someday, Ronan's showing him a real "transformation"!
That scrap-metal suit of his? One stomp, crushed!
"Almost forgot why I called."
"Steve says they found a Hydra base."
"Wanted to know if you're free tomorrow—team up to take it down."
Tony Stark finally got to the point.
A Hydra base?
Ronan rolled his eyes.
"What's a Hydra base got to do with me?"
"Hand it to S.H.I.E.L.D.—oh wait, they're kaput, right?"
"You guys can handle it easy."
Ronan smirked. He wasn't some Avengers recruit—why'd he have to tag along?
No need at all.
Chilling for the Spring Festival sounded way better.
"Fine, don't come."
"But Steve mentioned some weird energy signals there."
"Barely noticeable, though."
"Asking you was just for extra insurance."
Tony Stark replied, sounding unbothered.
Weird energy signals?
Ronan raised a brow.
Speaking of odd energy, you can't skip Hydra's Mind Stone stash.
Could it be…?
"Where's this signal at?"
Ronan tossed out a question.
"No clue on the exact spot—Steve's keeping it hush-hush to dodge Hydra eavesdroppers."
"Not bragging, but nobody on Earth can tap my lines."
Clearly, Tony Stark scoffed at the whole "secrecy" thing.
Ronan pieced something together.
That tight-lipped? Even Stark's in the dark?
Gotta be *that* place.
"Where you at now?"
Ronan asked.
With *that* spot, it meant the thing that flips Tony Stark's life was kicking off.
And in Ronan's head, a little plan sparked.
"At the company—where else?"
Tony Stark shrugged, lifting his glass for a sip.
Next second, Ronan materialized right in front of him.
His hand froze mid-sip.
"Huh?"
"How'd you get here?"
Tony Stark even heard his own voice echo through Ronan's phone.
"No questions—urgent business."
"I've got a ton of evil dishes—er, wizards—to deal with."
"Wear this thing. Keep it on you at all times."
"If you're in danger, I'll sense it right away."
Ronan tossed Tony Stark a pendant.
Tony scrambled to catch it, nearly splashing his drink.
But the next second, Ronan vanished from his sight.
His voice buzzed through the earpiece.
"Keep that pendant on."
"Or if you're in trouble, I can't save you."
"Hm, this roast goose is solid."
"Hurry up and eat—after this, we've got…"
Ronan's voice faded in and out—first two lines for him, the rest… elsewhere.
Tony Stark took a deep breath and hung up.
F*ck!
Who takes a call that half-assed?
Fuming, he nearly chucked the pendant.
But his raised hand froze mid-air.
Something clicked. He quietly pulled his hand back, slipping the pendant into his pocket.
Yeah…
Steve Rogers mentioned weird energy.
And Ronan once said odd energy could mess with his "seal."
Might even pop his soul out again.
*Hiss…*
Tony sucked in a breath.
No—this was a lifeline.
Can't toss it!