In Manhattan, New York City, the morning rush hour had passed, but the noisy, crowded streets hadn't quieted down. The bustling clamor still filled the air.
"Mister lin, here's your breakfast."
"Thank you, Mr. Li. It's kind of you to make this trip every day."
"No need to be so polite, Mr. lin. You've paid for it."
"I think you're just after the tip, aren't you?"
"Haha, you caught ."
Joking as they spoke, lin still handed over a few dollars in tip to Mr. Li, who owned a small Chinese breakfast shop in nearby Chinatown. The place wasn't big, but the flavor was authentic, so lin often went there for breakfast. Over ti, they got to know each other, and now Mr. Li would bring the food directly without lin having to go out.
Not only was lin, a white man, never condescending toward them—he was genuinely warm and often helped the Chinese community, earning their goodwill. And of course, the generous tipping helped too.
What they didn't know was that beneath lin's appearance lay the soul of soone from the Middle Kingdom. Even after hundreds of thousands of years, he had never forgotten his roots.
"Thank you, Mr. Li. Your cooking is still as delicious as ever."
…
…
"As long as you enjoy it, Mr. lin."
"It's a sha, though. I haven't been able to find an authentic Chinese restaurant."
"I'm sorry I can't help you there, Mr. lin. To suit Arican custors, most places here have adjusted the flavors. Finding real, authentic Chinese cuisine here isn't easy. If you ever have the chance, you should go to my holand. Not only is the food truly authentic, but the landscapes and people are beautiful."
"Of course, I'd love to go soday." lin nodded.
Whenever the conversation shifted to that mysterious Eastern country, Mr. Li—though of a working-class background—would unconsciously beam with pride, as if it were ingrained in his bones.
lin understood that feeling all too well. Once—no, even now—he often felt the urge to contribute to his holand from a past life and witness her majestic rivers and mountains once again.
But he didn't dare. The restrictions left behind by the Eastern immortals were too terrifying. Soone like Dohko might only be monitored, but if one surpassed the human realm and reached divine levels, stepping into that land ant being severely suppressed—the stronger the power, the greater the suppression. Until he fully understood those restrictions, he wouldn't set foot there.
"There's still work at the shop, I'll head off now. Have a great day, Mr. lin."
"Thank you."
After Mr. Li left, lin looked at the soy milk and buns in the bag and smiled, ready to head back inside—but then a nearby voice caught his attention.
"Hank, what's that? It slls amazing."
"I don't know. So kind of food, I guess? Uh… Hope, how about this…"
"I'm hungry, Hank."
"Didn't you just have breakfast?"
"But I'm hungry again."
"…Fine, I'll give it a try."
The man with glasses walked toward lin.
"Hey there, sir. Hello. Would you be willing to sell that food? Don't worry, money's not an issue."
lin glanced at him, then at the little girl behind him, whose eyes were filled with curiosity and a hint of mischief. He smiled.
"Sorry, sir. This isn't for sale."
"Co on now, how about three tis the price? You could buy two more with that, couldn't you?"
"Sorry, like I said, it's not for sale," lin declined again.
"Listen, I…" The man dropped his friendly tone, growing stern. He was ready to drop so tough words just to satisfy his daughter.
But lin's next move stopped him in his tracks. lin walked right past him and crouched in front of the girl.
"Wait! You…" The man panicked, thinking he'd angered lin and that he was about to hurt his daughter. He quickly reached into his pocket for a small throwing dart, ready to attack—but then froze.
lin had simply pulled out a bun and handed it to the girl, smiling kindly. "Here you go, kiddo. I know you're not really hungry, but you should still try it."
"Huh? You noticed?" The girl blinked in surprise. The wariness in her eyes disappeared, replaced by curiosity.
"Of course. But… your dad is pretty funny," lin said with a wink.
"Giggle~ Is he? I think so too! What's your na?" she asked.
"Of course, little lady. My na is lin."
"You can call Hope!"
"Hope? That's a beautiful na."
"I think so too!"
…
The man stood watching, feelings mixed. He was happy, because his daughter looked genuinely joyful—sothing he rarely saw. But he also felt a bit jealous that the joy ca not from him, but from a stranger she just t.
He quietly put the dart away, and just then, lin and Hope walked over to him.
"…Thank you." All the things he wanted to say boiled down to that one sentence.
"No need to thank . A child's smile is priceless, isn't it?"
"…Yes." The man looked at his daughter's happy face and smiled. "Sorry about earlier. I'm Hank. Hank Pym."
"lin."
"You live here?"
"Right there." lin pointed to his house.
"Then I guess we're neighbors. Just moved in." Hank gestured to the house next door.
"Looks like life just got more interesting," lin said with a grin.
"I think so too." Like father, like daughter—even their catchphrases matched.
"Wow~ This is so good! Uncle lin, what's this called?" Hope asked excitedly.
"It's called a bun. It's a type of food from the East. It symbolizes prosperity and rising fortune—aning life gets better and better," lin explained.
"Really? Then it's decided! From now on, I'm having buns for breakfast!"
"Haha, no problem." Hank would never say no to his daughter's requests—especially not one like this.
"Don't rush, little lady. Chinese cuisine has so many delicious dishes. Buns are just the beginning."
"Really?"
"Of course. But the food here isn't very authentic, so it might not taste quite the sa."
"That's too bad…" Hope's joyful face fell, and she pouted sadly.
"Haha, I've been learning Chinese cooking recently. Would you like to co taste it soti, beautiful young lady?"
"Hmm? Of course!"
"Then it's settled."
"Mm-hmm!"
Their first friendly exchange as neighbors ended there. lin returned inside with the rest of his food, while Hank and Hope continued setting up their new ho.
"We're so lucky, Hank. Just moved in and already have such a great neighbor!"
"Yeah, we really are," Hank nodded with a smile, though his mind was racing, wondering about lin's identity. He hadn't forgotten that the mont he reached for his dart, a mysterious presence had locked onto him.
…
"Master, that man…"
"I know. Don't worry about it, Galan. This city is full of destiny. It's normal to run into people who aren't ordinary," lin said.
Hank's identity was no mystery to lin. From the mont he saw them, he had already known. The first Ant-Man, a superhero and a genius scientist. His invention—the Pym Particle—could alter mass and size, even allow access to the mysterious quantum realm.
His wife had been the first to enter the quantum realm and return successfully—the original Wasp. Of course, at this ti, she was still trapped in the quantum realm.
And the little girl Hope? She was the second-generation Wasp—a future superhero.
A whole family of superheroes.
"But still…"
"Alright, Galan, eat your breakfast. It won't taste as good cold."
"Master, I ant to ask… Your cooking is way better than Mr. Li's. Why do you still buy breakfast from him?" Galan asked, a little grumpily.
To lin, mastering cooking—or anything, really—was child's play. He could make the world's finest cuisines, and they tasted so good that Galan once nearly swallowed his tongue along with the food. But lin rarely cooked for himself, preferring to buy food outside.
To Galan, it felt like living next to heaven but being stuck in hell every day.
"Little joys, gathered over ti, beco great happiness," lin replied with a gentle smile.
Galan stood solemnly, full of reverence. As expected of the god he worshipped—one who loved the earth and all its people.
But in the next second, he was completely thrown off.
"Besides, what—do you expect to cook for you every day? Would you even dare to eat it?" lin teased.
"I would!" Galan blurted out his deepest desire, only to regret it instantly.
He was lin's subordinate—how could he expect his god to cook for him every day? Even if he dared to eat it, if word got out in the Sanctuary, Shion and Ares would probably lead all the Saints to flay him alive. His brother Saga wouldn't protect him—in fact, he'd probably kick him a few extra tis out of jealousy.
"Well… it's not impossible. But on one condition." lin's smile turned sly.
"I agree!" Galan shouted before even hearing the condition. For food that good, he'd risk anything.
lin's grin widened. Galan had taken the bait.
"I signed you up for the law program at NYU. Go get your PhD, and I'll do the cooking."
At that, Galan's fired-up expression collapsed into misery. He looked pitiful, like a guilty child, fiddling with his fingers.
"Master, I… don't I already have a doctorate?" he asked in a small voice.
"In what?" lin asked, rolling his eyes.
"Um… Martial Arts…"
"You tell —when did the world start giving PhDs in Martial Arts?"
"J-just recently… it's a new departnt…"
"Yeah, because you held your fist to Howard's face and forced him to make it."
"It's still a doctorate… right?"
"Invalid. Go get a real one! You're the only Gold Saint with a master's degree."
"Master, I'm a Silver Saint, not Gold…"
"Orpheus, Albiore, Misty, Marin, Shaina…"
With every na lin listed, Galan's head hung lower, nearly touching the ground.
"So… go get that PhD! You're a disgrace!"
"Waaah…"
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