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To change the subject—and also out of sheer curiosity—
Henry asked, "I always thought playboy Tony Stark would surround himself with a flock of beautiful female secretaries, purely for the convenience of 'on-site resource utilization.' But looking at things now, they all seem to have the faces of resentful housewives. Don't you ever, you know… water the garden a bit?"
Tony wore an equally aggrieved expression.
"When you're dealing with endless petty maneuvers every single day, the moment you see another human being, you just want to mow everything down with an M61 Vulcan cannon. Who the hell would still be in the mood to screw women?
"Besides, I hire them to get work done. It's not just women. I keep them in those positions because of their competence. Ordinary hookers aren't worth the kind of money I pay."
Thinking back to the news over the past few years, Henry realized Tony Stark really had kept a low profile. There were few headlines about him—nothing like the classic playboy constantly splashed across the entertainment pages with a rotating cast of scandalous lovers.
But he also wasn't portrayed as a widely praised young corporate prodigy. Even controversy or comparisons with old Howard Stark were rare. It was as if all news related to him had been deliberately blurred and muted.
"Have you ever thought about this?" Henry suddenly tossed out a new topic.
Tony sipped his whiskey as if unconcerned, then took out that jammer again and flipped it on.
"Go on."
"I'll say this first—I don't know your exact situation right now, and I don't know what others are thinking either. This is just my personal opinion. You can take it or leave it.
"Soldiers wear white gear in snowfields. In deserts, they wear brown desert camouflage. In jungles, dark green camo. Do you think maybe you're attracting all this trouble because you're just too conspicuous?"
"You're trying to tell me to join their corruption?"
"If you can't keep your distance from that circle and you're inside it, then you need some necessary camouflage. Otherwise, everyone will worry that you're there to break things.
"Do you know what the Eastern concept of a '投名状'—a pledge of allegiance—means?"
"What's that?"
Henry used Water Margin, one of the Four Great Classical Novels of China, as an example and gave a rough explanation.
"Basically, if you want to enter certain circles, whether it's a pledge of allegiance or some kind of initiation ritual, the core purpose is the same: to tell the people inside that you're one of them.
"You have to show an attitude of shared glory and shared ruin. Only then will they stop worrying that you joined just to disrupt the rules—or to expose them publicly.
"The deeper the entanglement, the more disgusting the things you might have to do.
"Of course, that doesn't mean I'm telling you to sink into the same corruption. You pick something you can tolerate and create a 'weakness' in the eyes of outsiders—something they think they can use to buy you off or deal with you.
"That has another benefit too. Your enemies will focus on that apparent weakness instead of probing you from every direction. Then you know exactly what you need to defend, instead of suspecting everyone and everything of trying to kill you."
Tony tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"Is this how you operate too?"
"I usually choose to stay far away from those circles. I don't see them, they don't see me—everyone's happy. Partly because I don't need anything from that world, so there's no reason to make things so complicated. Keeping my distance works just fine."
Tony tilted his head and suddenly asked,
"Have you ever trusted anyone?"
"If trust were that easy to give, I'd have been turned into a lab rat by the U.S. military a long time ago. You're not about to tell me the U.S. military is kind and would never experiment on special individuals, are you?"
Tony was left momentarily speechless. Based on the information he had, he really couldn't say that with a straight face—unless he lied.
"But today, you do have a need," Henry added calmly.
The unspoken implication was clear: you also gained a weakness.
Forcibly dragging the conversation back on track, Tony looked straight at him.
Henry admitted openly,
"Yes. But I still need to see whether the payoff matches the cost. This isn't exactly a necessity—I won't die without it."
Tony didn't keep the focus on himself. Instead, he brought up the matter again and proposed new terms.
"Becoming CEO of Stark Pictures, I don't need you to actively investigate anything.
"At that level, some things will naturally come into your sight and hearing. You just need to be my eyes and ears—remember what you see. I'll handle the analysis myself.
"If this really wasn't an accident, I don't believe it was some massive group conspiracy. Proactively digging for information would only attract unnecessary attention—and might even lead you in the wrong direction.
"All other benefits stay the same. The contract term can be three or five years, with extensions possible. You can resign at any time—no penalties, no non-compete clauses. Likewise, if I decide I don't need you anymore, I can let you go at any time."
Henry nodded.
"Sounds reasonable. I can accept that."
Compared to pay or benefits, Tony had precisely identified Henry's real requirement: the right to walk away at any moment.
Granting a soldier the right to desert mid-battle might seem strange. But if you think of him as a spy deep behind enemy lines, then discretionary withdrawal authority becomes the key to survival.
In the eyes of these people, a so-called "body of steel" was hardly an invincible ability. It was just that no one had gone all-in on researching it yet.
Without that shared understanding, the name Henry Brown wouldn't be on so many lists.
Still, Tony was surprised at how readily Henry agreed.
"You just nodded like that?"
"I still have one question," Henry said.
"Is what happened to you something deliberately set up as a trap? Have you figured that out?"
"Probably not."
"That 'probably' doesn't sound very confident."
Tony replied,
"The person who told me about it is a family friend we can trust. But I can't extend that same trust to the organization behind them. I only learned that organization even existed after my father died."
He really shouldn't have asked—but Henry couldn't help himself.
"That organization… do you know what it's called?"
"I didn't ask in detail, and they didn't say. It probably dates back to World War II, when my father joined. They did suggest I take over his position within it—but I refused."
Henry looked at the young master with open curiosity.
Tony's skin wasn't thick enough to withstand that stare, so he explained,
"They were my dad's war buddies. To me, they're just a bunch of uncles and aunts I don't even fully recognize. You expect me to go in there and act like a grandson to everyone? Would you be happy about that?"
Alright—second generation, unaware of first-generation hardship.
They'd already paved the road for you, and you still weren't satisfied? What—did they need to carry you there in a sedan chair?
Well, people born with golden spoons tend to disdain silver spoons and iron spoons alike. That's normal enough. Guess it just proves how pitiful it is to be someone who treasures even an iron spoon.
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