Chapter 4872: Strange Wonders, Marvelous Drama (Sixteen)

After extensive revisions to the script, the film was still shot in Hampton. Thanks to the Time Management Bureau, screenwriters had ample working time without significantly delaying the schedule. Winter had not yet passed, and the final snowfall would arrive in three days. Blizzard, manor, banquet—nothing suited murder better than this.

Stark in formal attire was applying makeup. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, sinking into a somber, gloomy atmosphere. Snow would fall only on this day; they had to complete the film's climax shoot today, requiring everyone's full commitment—including Stark himself.

In truth, he did not need excessive acting skill. The young man in the mirror appeared fragile, melancholic, dazed, and broken. Yet the mental fortitude belonging to the mature Iron Man prevented these negative emotions from spiraling into collapse, keeping him from seeming weak—only overly sensitive. No one could look away from his gaze.

The opening also began with the mirror.

The young man stood before the washbasin, a few drops of water clinging to his black, forehead-fringed hair. Droplets slid from his temples toward his cheekbones, then slightly rightward. He lifted his gaze, and everyone in the mirror simultaneously looked up.

"Today." When the bay's tide receded to its deepest point, the lighthouse lit up.

"Now." On the winding mountain road, heavy snow fell from the sky.

"You are about to hear a name you know well." An ancient manor emerged from the snow mist, its outline faint and indistinct.

"I, Anthony Edward Stark." His immaculately tailored suit pants parted the wind and snow outside from the shifting light and shadow within.

"And, a story about me you have never known." The champagne towers on either side of his shoulders and the figures conversing alongside them blurred like wind and snow.

"Not Iron Man, but Tony Stark." The figure in formal attire grew increasingly diminutive against the manor doorway's backdrop.

"A patient tormented by anxiety disorder for decades." Threshold.

"A genius scientist." Floor.

"A billionaire." Table leg.

"A playboy." Column.

"A superhero." Picture frame.

"A human being." Courtyard.

"Bang!"

A fallen corpse.

"Cut!" Chris shouted, "Perfect. Alright, you playing the corpse—retract your tentacles first..."

Eddie flipped over on the ground, pulling the symbiote's tentacles from the courtyard ceiling back in, then pushed himself up and shook his arms: "I'm telling you, buddy—without a ton of chocolate, you can't appease him."

"A ton? You're looking down on Iron Man?" Stark pointed a finger. "My chocolate planet is nearly finished—when it's done, you can move there, and I'll make you Lord of the Chocolate Realm."

"Tony!!!" Chris yelled again, "We're shooting the chase scene!!!"

"Coming!" Stark replied. As he walked toward the hallway, Shiler was already waiting there. Stark took a deep breath.

"Remember, Tony, all you need to do is run—and most importantly, never summon your mecha midway..."

"Got it, got it." Stark waved his hand. "You've emphasized this how many times already..."

"This isn't my fault," Chris said helplessly, "Who let you drop a mecha during the mystery scene last time and smash all six corpse props we prepared?"

Stark touched his cheek: "This is my fault, but I was just startled. It definitely won't happen again."

Two minutes later, a Lei Ting mecha burst through the window. Chris hadn't even spoken when Strange, waiting at the stairwell, came down cursing.

"How much longer must I wait for you?!" Strange shouted down the hallway, "Jarvis! Take control of his mecha!"

"Sorry, sir," Jarvis's voice came from nearby, "Mr. Stark has supreme authority over his mecha..."

"Get a few people to hold down his mecha!"

"Then they'll just be dragged onto the set with it!"

"Get Spider-Man!!!"

After another half hour of chaos, the snow was nearly stopping. Stark finally ran down a corridor over ten meters long, colliding head-on with Strange descending the stairs. He peered down the hall, and upon seeing Shiler, had Stark pulled upstairs.

"Finally wrapped!" Chris said, "But your portrayal of exhaustion and fear was spot-on."

"Because I'm genuinely exhausted and afraid!" Stark leaned on the upstairs railing, shouting downward, "Get that guy downstairs out of the way! Or I'll fire the hand cannon!"

"You did well too," Chris patted Shiler's shoulder, "Now everyone will think you're the killer."

Shiler smiled at him. Then Chris walked back upstairs, addressing Stark and Strange: "Next is your two-person scene—lines memorized, right?"

"If he drags his feet any longer, I'll forget mine." Strange sighed. He rolled up his sleeves, though he wasn't wearing the formal attire of Shiler and Stark, but rather server's uniform.

"Remember, when you go up the stairs later." Chris pushed Stark beneath the first stair landing, then turned to face Strange ahead, saying, "You pause at the top, look back at him. There's a meeting of gazes, then you must portray a daze—understand?"

"No need to act that," Strange said.

The tall, young server halted his steps. He turned to look at the person behind him, and upon seeing those eyes, the contempt and disdain on his face gradually solidified—but did not melt into ordinary flattery or fawning. Instead, it deepened, as if he were studying some scripture.

"You're a server?" Stark asked, "You don't look like one."

Strange in the shadows indeed did not. Though he wore server's uniform, utterly inferior to those splendid formal attires, his features carried an "air of high intelligence," implying he would never be someone earning a living through manual labor. Suspended to the extreme, it manifested as another kind of lofty nobility—untouched by worldly grime.

"I am." Strange spoke, carrying a certain mysterious cadence. Though he is now young, lacking the white beard and sideburns of a Supreme Sorcerer, one can still see through this face, through this gaze, the great sorcerer of another time and space.

"You came at just the right time," Stark said, "Take me away from here—someone died downstairs."

"I know." Strange turned and walked upward.

And Stark followed behind him: "How do you know? Where are you going? Aren't you afraid of running into the killer?"

Up one step, then up another.

The final step stepped out— a expanse of blood red.

A blizzard howled in.

The screen shattered completely. The youth before the washbasin bent down; the mirror was blank. The faucet's rushing sound came, water gathering at the drain into a downward vortex, while the wind and snow outside continued.

Stark straightened, tousled his dry forehead hair, then adjusted his tie before the mirror. From the side, his lashes were long; when he leaned his body forward toward the mirror, they resembled a sword about to pierce inward.

Suddenly, the restroom door opened. Stark instinctively turned to look—and then everything went black.

Spider-Men were queuing to tour Stark. They approached, then let out a "Wow" of amazement, pulling the next one in, then emitting the same astonishment. Only after everyone had marveled did they send out a representative.

"Mr. Stark, you were truly handsome when young," Spider-Man said somewhat bashfully, "Your eyes are truly beautiful—more beautiful than anyone I've ever seen, like they could speak. When you look at me, I even feel a bit shy."

Faced with this ordinary yet warm praise, Stark truly wanted to move to tears. Finally, no more "story-vibe," "chosen horror male lead," "mental pervert bait" descriptions—truly worthy of his good Peter.

At this moment, Chris walked over again, holding a script already somewhat torn from use, saying: "Today's shoot is nearly done. Come early tomorrow to film the preceding setup scenes."

Stark exhaled. Spider-Man then asked curiously: "How do I look a bit like I'm in a mystery film?"

"You have good taste," Stark said, "It's indeed a suspenseful horror mystery film."

"How did you come up with filming this?" Spider-Man was even more curious, "So who is the murderer?"

Stark shook his head without speaking, and at this moment someone walked over and said: "Mr. Stark, your Lady has come to visit the set."

Stark hurried over there. As expected, he saw Pepper handing out small gifts and coffee to the employees.

"Oh, Pepper." Stark hurried over and gave her a hug. As Pepper turned around, she instinctively opened her arms to embrace him, patting his back.

"There are so many people here," she said, "Let me finish my work first, okay?"

Stark was clearly reluctant, but the people around were very tactful, taking their own shares and withdrawing swiftly. Stark held on for a long time before reluctantly letting go.

"Alright, Tony, I know your anxiety disorder makes you a bit…… Oh, damn." Pepper stared in shock at Tony's face and blurted out a curse.

Stark looked at her with feigned innocence, but in reality he was trying hard to convey emotion through his eyebrows and eyes. Even without effort, he was already quite striking; now Pepper could clearly feel a bit dizzy.

This usually sharp and capable woman seemed to be haunted by something, standing there dazedly staring for a while, then unconsciously reaching out to touch the corner of Stark's eye.

"I regret not meeting you at this time." Stark slightly lowered his body, looking into Pepper's eyes and saying, "If we had met back then, I would certainly not have wasted time on those bad things, and you would have saved me as always, right?"

Pepper stared at him speechless. Pepper was no longer young, she maintained herself well, but had not used the golden apple. Moreover, she always preferred to look more mature so she could take the initiative in business. Every trace left by time on her was her weapon.

Facing this somewhat youthful Tony Stark, they seemed to be a generation apart. Yet the atmosphere between them was more like lovers from their youth crossing time and space to meet their present selves.

Pepper gently stroked Stark's cheek, and after a long while finally said: "Back then I couldn't have met you, Mr. Stark. Back then I was still managing the printer in the office."

Stark stared at her without blinking, then suddenly smiled: "Then I'll save myself first, and then go save you."